Earth...Fire...Water...Air... This is the age of the new Avatar, and after many years of chaos, the world is poised to enter into a time of prosperity and peace. But every light casts a shadow, and in the days to come, the very balance of the universe will be in danger, and the true purpose of the Avatar will be revealed. The Avatar's name is Usagi, a warrior of love and justice, and despite all the great deeds she has accomplished, her story is not over yet!
AVATAR
The Celestial Sailors
BOOK THREE: DEATH
7: A Moment with Makoto
Yawning, the pirate stared listlessly into the ocean, which rippled with promise but sadly, no fish. He was just starting to wonder if this part of the sea even had fish when he saw something reflected in the clear water. It looked like it was swimming across the ocean at a rapid pace, but then it...split into two? The first object kept going while the second rose up to greet him. A fish? He sat up to get a better look. No...it wasn't a fish, it was a...person? A person reflected in the water, falling from the sky—no, clearly, they had been riding an air bison...
The man screamed and almost fell overboard as the person slammed into the ship, splintering the deck. All the other hands on deck at the time were either blown away (some actually did land in the water) or knocked to their feet. A tall brunette woman, wearing the brownish-green clothes of an Omashu native, grinned broadly at the pirates.
"Hello, boys!" She struck the deck with her foot, ripping several planks out, then lashed them at any pirate still left standing, including the unfortunate fisher. She whirled fluidly around the deck, tearing it to pieces with every step, knocking more and more pirates into the water. An ornately-dressed man who was unmistakably the captain ran out to see what the ruckus was, but he was smacked sideways with a plank, and fell to the floor in a daze.
"Ha!" she cackled. "You guys seem a little...BOARD!" Makoto Kino then groaned at the horrible, unforgivable pun she had made. "Ugh, now I'm starting to sound like Minako. I apologize for that, I'm sorry." Makoto apologetically whacked anybody that so much as budged, then tore the ship asunder piece by piece until the ocean bubbled up to claim it. Noticing a second ship close by—there were five on the run in this area, according to Motoki's scouts—she reached out to the mainmast, bending it towards her. The other ship groaned in protest, but it wasn't the one being controlled by the world's only wood-bender. Makoto continued to tilt the mast more and more, until the building tension became unbearable, and the mighty pillar snapped in two. She then used the mast to cross ships, kicked it into the sea, and dusted her hands off.
"That was a decent warm-up. Does anyone here fancy a real workout?" Pirates swarmed her but their position was hopeless: Makoto ripped the entire vessel apart, reducing it to tinder in five minutes and sending the pirates swimming for their lives. A third fired cannons at her; she raised a huge part of the hull and launched it into the sea, riding it over. The sea churned and splashed as the flaming iron hurled at her, but she fluidly surfed around the attack and leaped off when she was in range of her foe, clinging onto the hull with her bare hands. Makoto climbed up the side, punching holes as she went, and vaulted onto the deck, where she was greeted by scores of filthy, desperate, heavily-armed, bloodthirsty pirates.
Just another day, really.
"Don't worry, boys, I'll have you dancing with mermaids in no time," she grinned, tapping the starboard's bulwark. A large, bearded, one-eyed man, his left hand a hook and his right hand clasping a cutlass (he even had a real parrot on his shoulder), approached her, growling savagely. Suddenly, he paused, blinked, paled, and peered closer.
"Avast ye! Ain't ye that master chef from Omashu, the Culinary Queen Makoto?"
Makoto's face twitched, and she stared at him as if he had suddenly transformed into an eight-headed marmoset in a frilly pink dress.
"Um...beg your pardon? I, I mean, my name is Makoto Kino, but..." The large man, clearly the captain, ran up to her, grinning joyfully.
"The same Makoto who dueled the greatest chef in the entire northern Earth Kingdom, Marduk the Master Restaurateur, winning only by one point?!" Makoto froze, perplexed.
"Um, well, I did have a contest with Marduk awhile back, if that's what you mean."
"And she's so humble about it!" the captain wailed. He dragged his sleeve across a tear-streaked face, then grasped his hook and hand together, bowing. All the men under his command bowed as well. "That match was the most auspicious duel this sorry lot ever clapped eyes upon! The lads and I were part o' the crowd that very day! We were already loyal devotees to the Mastery of Marduk, but now we're huge fans of the Culinary Queen as well!"
Makoto was honestly beside herself; she didn't know what to do, or say. She certainly hadn't expected any of this when she woke up this morning.
"Look, see? We've put you on the prow alongside her!" The captain led her to the bow of the ship, pointing to the area directly underneath the bowsprit. Sure enough, alongside a wooden effigy of Marduk was a replica of Makoto Kino. Her jaw nearly pierced through the ship as it fell.
"Holy cow, I'm on the prow!" She groaned as she realized her blunder. "Arrgh, darn it, Mina, now you've got me rhyming!" She looked back at the captain and crew; they all had their heads bowed and hands clasped in subservience.
"Lady Kino, whatever fate led you to our unworthy vessel today, we be eternally grateful for this opportunity. Consider us your faithful vassals and servants from this day forth."
She hesitated, bewildered. "Um...thank you?"
Really, though—what else could she say?
"No, Lady Kino, thank you!" Makoto recovered from her shock and straightened her posture. Now was not the time to be flustered by fame (though she did wonder if this was what Usagi went through).
"Listen, I don't have time to dawdle here. I need to stop all the pirate ships here and find Sifu Mishkin. I'm sorry, but that includes this one."
"Then we surrender to you, Lady Makoto," proclaimed the captain, kneeling down on one knee. "And I must say, I be honored for the privilege."
"I accept your surrender. I will beg for leniency from King Motoki on your behalf. What is your name, sir?"
"Captain Scum, me lady." Makoto almost snickered. What kind of a name was that?
"Excuse me, but...Captain Scum?" Captain Scum looked embarrassed as he stood up.
"Aye, though me name by birth be Rutherford Dollanshere. Doesn't quite hold the same cadence, though, does it?"
"I dunno, it sounds like a very noble and austere name." The captain and crew all burst out laughing at that.
"Did ya hear that, mates?" Scum pointed with his hook. "The good Lady Kino thinks we be noble and austere!" He then stood to attention and gestured with his cutlass: "Lads, who's the worst scum in the world?"
"WE ARE, SIR!"
"Who's dead proud of it?"
"WE ARE, SIR!"
"What are we?"
"PURE SCUM!"
"The crew of the Scum Bucket, your grace," Scum announced, grinning proudly as he tipped his tricorn hat. Makoto winced. So now she had a pirate following. Well, scratch that off her childhood fantasy list... As the pirates were congratulating themselves on their "scumminess" and pestering Makoto with questions and adoration, she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. One of the ships she hadn't attacked yet suddenly flailed out of control, buckling and yawing as an intense gale smashed it. Scum and his crew gawked at the sight, but Makoto was more confused than amazed. According to Motoki, the other air-benders weren't even supposed to appear unless Makoto gave them a signal, and so far that hadn't happened. Was someone acting under their own initiative? She didn't have to wait too long for the answer, for whoever was attacking the other ship soon finished with their job and flew right over to pick hers off.
The air-bender landed on deck with all the grace and fluidity of a python-squirrel, issuing a gust of wind that repulsed the pirates, sending some overboard. Only Makoto stood firm—and only Makoto recognized her.
It was Haruka.
"It's you! What are you doing here?" Haruka stood and beheld the younger girl with some measure of annoyance. Clearly she hadn't expected company.
"A favor for Sifu Ekatrina. I might ask you the same, Omashu-girl. I thought I told you not to interfere in my business."
"I happen to be working with King Motoki here!" Makoto countered. Haruka glanced around, seeing the gathered pirates gawking at her, and flicked her wrists, blowing more of them out of the water. The remaining hundred or so bristled.
"Get her, lads, she soils the ship and her crew!"
"Wait!" Makoto called. The pirates immediately stood down. Haruka glared at her.
"Working with Motoki, huh? Then why did these pirates just follow your orders?" Makoto flinched.
"It's complicated, okay? They're sort of...fans of mine. Look, they already surrendered—"
"My orders were to wipe them out, not capture them. Do you have any idea what they did to the Eastern Air Temple?"
"Motoki filled me in," Makoto snorted defensively. "I'm just trying to avoid fights wherever I can."
"Foolish youthful altruism," Haruka spat, a mocking smirk carved on her face. "You and that bun-head. I overheard her wanting to spare those ghouls, and now you wanna spare pirates? And let's not forget about all those dangerous cultists she left alive. Oh yes, Miss Muscles, I know all about that. I pick up all sorts of news on the wind."
"Usagi has a bigger heart than you could ever imagine," Makoto growled, getting into a defensive martial-arts stance. Haruka just stood there smiling, more amused than ever.
"Sure: big heart, small brain. I know the type. She'll extend a hand to her greatest enemy and turn the other cheek as they bite it off." Makoto suddenly snapped, taking a loose board and hurling it at Haruka. The older woman slipped out of the way, issuing a blast of air that Makoto only just missed.
"You can say what you like about me, but I'll not stand here and let you slander Usagi!"
"I came here to fight pirates, not hotheaded girls. And I'll not apologize for the truth."
"We'll see about that," Makoto glowered, eyes glinting with fury. Both she and Haruka stared at each other in tense silence for a long time, wondering who would make the first move. Haruka's smile turned sour.
"Fine, have it your way. Do we use bending?" Makoto hesitated for a moment. Her wood-bending against Haruka's air-bending? She could only imagine the damage they'd do.
"No. I'd rather not tear this ship apart any more than I already have, and the last one's too far away for me. Besides, this is just between us. Nobody else needs to get involved."
"There's that senseless altruism of yours again," Haruka sighed. "All right, no bending. When you're ready." Makoto sprinted after her the instant Haruka's mouth closed, swiping her fists at blinding speed. Haruka ducked and swerved out of the way, countering with a slicing uppercut that only missed Makoto's cheek by a sliver. Makoto tumbled, getting on her hands and knees, sweeping her legs out. Haruka cartwheeled away, flipped off one of the smaller masts, and dove in with a kick. Makoto had seen Minako use the exact same move in their sparring sessions and knew how to counter it: she grabbed Haruka's foot with the speed of a serpent and tossed her, but Haruka regained her balance, landing on her hands and flipping over. She then adapted a familiar air-bender stance.
Neither of them moved. Makoto's eyes flitted up and down. She shifted her weight around, favoring her left foot, raising her right arm a little. Haruka noticed, smirked, and used a different stance. Makoto drew herself in, keeping her arms tight, favoring defense. Haruka took another stance, and Makoto's stance changed with it.
"Right, you're friends with an air-bender," Haruka remarked, chuckling softly. "I forgot. You're probably familiar with all our moves."
"Shut up and fight me!" Makoto spat. Haruka grunted.
"If you insist." She charged faster than Makoto could see, leaving her only time enough to act on instinct. Immense suffocating pain slammed into her solar plexus as Haruka's fist made contact, and Makoto crumpled to the ground, coughing and wheezing. Haruka stood triumphant.
"Don't start fights you can't finish, Ponytail. There's always someone bett—" She suddenly lurched as a sharp searing sensation gripped her, forcing her down on one knee. A tentative examination confirmed that Makoto had landed a blow as well, one just as debilitating. Both ladies were effectively out for the count. The pirates, who had been wholly absorbed in this spectacle, let out a loud cheer. Their exultation was cut short as the last ship closed in and fired cannons.
"Thrice-bedeviled blackguards spawned from the pits of the inferno!" Captain Scum cursed, adding a few less savory words for good measure. "We'll teach them not to fire upon us! Ten of you men, look after our guests! The rest of you, loosen Havoc and Mayhem!" The pirates cheered and split up. Below decks, two nasty-looking cannons labeled "Havoc" and "Mayhem" grinned at them, their barrels carved in the shape of monstrous beasts. Special ammunition was loaded into each, and with the wave of a torch, their fuses burned out and the demons belched furious vengeance: one issuing a thick viscous ooze over the other ship's port side while the other unleashed an evil-looking blue fire. Needless to say, both Makoto and Haruka were spared the necessity of finishing it off.
…...
As the Scum Bucket slowly sailed back to the Eastern Air Temple to hand itself over to the mercy of Motoki and the resident Sifus, Haruka sat against the starboard bulwark, letting the wind caress her hair as she convalesced in isolated silence. A slight shift in the breeze told her she had company, but she wouldn't need any help figuring out who. A wounded body limped its way over and delicately settled next to her. They both let out a sigh, and for a long time, neither of them spoke. "How are you?" Haruka spoke at last—softly, respectfully. Makoto groaned.
"Got the wind knocked outta me. Still seeing spots. Can't really walk straight. You?"
"I think you cracked a rib. I've never broken a bone before. I got beaten black and blue during air-bender boot camp, but I never broke a bone."
"Yeah," Makoto coughed, "well, I've taken a few hits myself in my line. Here, see this scar?" She lifted her shirt, showing a faded diagonal pink line on her skin. "That's from one of Zoicite's people. He cut me while I was trying to save Motoki." Haruka's smile blossomed slowly.
"I got one for you. Check it out." She raised her left arm, pulling down the sleeve. A burn-mark was barely visible. "I got this during the ruckus at Kuni's tournament. I smashed a guy's face with my elbow and he snuck a bit of fire in there as he was falling over."
"That's nothing," Makoto scoffed. She turned around, baring her left shoulder. "Look just below there. See it? I was cutting down a tree when a fire-frog jumped on my back. Its poison paralyzed me for a whole day." Haruka nodded, impressed. She bent down, parting her sandy hair, showing a pink mark on her scalp.
"An arrow came this close to putting a hole in my head. Skidded off my skull. I thought my hair would never grow back."
"Okay, but I saved the best one for last." Makoto leaned back, kicking her sandals off, raising her feet up. They were calloused and cut all over. Haruka's face scrunched in bewilderment.
"What, did you walk barefoot across hot gravel on a dare?"
"No, that's from an all-day dancing marathon. I lasted twenty-three hours, went through forty different partners—including the king—and wore my shoes out so badly that I ended up dancing on my own bleeding soles. And I still only got second place." Haruka cringed.
"Yeesh, I think you have me beat. I only have one more, but it's nothing to brag about."
"Show me anyway," Makoto insisted. She was smiling warmly. Haruka chuckled and opened her robe, exposing part of her chest. Makoto blushed and tried to be prudent as she looked. Right next to one of Haruka's blue arrows was a purplish mark.
"Did your tattoo artist sneeze or something?" Makoto snickered. Haruka chortled and closed her robe again.
"Nah, my first love just broke my heart, is all. That's all that's left." The two women smiled at each other. Makoto took out a wine bottle she had brought with her.
"Here, courtesy of the Captain. I'll drink to your scalp if you'll drink to my feet."
"It's a deal," Haruka grinned, and they took turns guzzling. Then they were silent again for awhile.
"Sorry about your rib. I appreciate you helping me take out that ship."
"And I'm sorry about your stomach, and for insulting your friend. It would've been difficult taking them all out on my own. Truce?" Haruka had her palm out, index finger extended. Makoto smiled.
"Yeah." She touched her fist to her palm, the Earth Kingdom's sign of respect. "So did you just come here for pirates and a favor?"
"Well, the scenery's nice, too." Haruka smiled warmly, and Makoto snickered. "No, I heard a rumor about more of those Sentinels in the area. I haven't seen one, but I'll stay for a few more days to make sure."
"I haven't seen any, either, and Motoki hasn't mentioned them. Oh, have you ever heard of Sifu Mishkin?"
"Not really," Haruka shrugged. "I'm only familiar with Ekatrina. She's the friend of a friend of a family member, that sort of thing. I owed her one, so here I am."
"Is your partner with you?" Haruka nodded.
"We took opposite sides. Michiru's probably capsized at least three boats by now, if she hasn't run into your friends as well."
"Nah, they're in Ba Sing Se." Makoto shifted uncomfortably, and not because of her injury. "I mentioned Mishkin because...I'd like to ask you to help us look for him." Haruka closed her eyes and leaned back, wincing slightly as her ribs throbbed. The pain was easier to bear with the wine.
"Sounds like you need to hire a private detective."
"He betrayed his order and worked with the pirates." That got Haruka's attention. Her eyes flashed open and she looked hard at her neighbor, in spite of the pain.
"Say what?!" Makoto explained everything. Haruka stared at the deck in disgust and anger. She took a deep breath, cringing, and nodded her head.
"Yeah, I'll keep an eye out for him. You want him dead or alive?"
"Alive, if possible. But Motoki didn't say anything about not roughing him up." Makoto smiled feebly, and Haruka mirrored her sentiment.
"Fair enough. I promise I'll send word if I hear anything. By the way, I never got your name. I usually just throw nicknames around until I hit a nerve. Bad habit of mine." Makoto smiled and extended her hand as she introduced herself. Haruka took it, but used her other hand to gently caress Makoto's hair and face. The younger woman blushed, averted her eyes shyly, then looked back, and was caught. "Actually, I think I'll call you 'wildflower'. It suits you." Makoto's blush deepened significantly, and her heart started hammering. For a moment, she forgot she'd be marrying the King of Omashu in a few weeks.
"U-um...really?"
"Yeah," Haruka said, as she continued to penetrate Makoto's gaze, burrowing into her soul. "You're a heavy-hitting, stubborn scrapper with a whole laundry list of scars, but I get the impression you're very feminine, too. It's pleasantly diametric. It suits you."
"Ah...I don't know about that," Makoto croaked, looking away out of embarrassment. She played with her ponytail and added, "Lately I've been worrying that I'm too masculine, and that maybe I'm losing touch with myself as a girl. I cook and clean and wear dresses and go to dances, but I always end up going camping, or chopping wood, or doing something no lady would ever dream of." Haruka thought about this ambivalence for a moment before taking Makoto's hand into her own. Once again their eyes locked; Haruka's intensity was almost alarming.
"Makoto, never ever be ashamed of who you are. Embrace it, own it. If people give you grief because they expect you to be something you're not comfortable with, then screw them! You don't want to spend the rest of your life hating yourself, just so you can please other people. You don't want to...live solely for other people's approval." Makoto was stricken at first, but the more Haruka spoke, the more light fell upon her eyes. She began to wonder if some of those encouraging words came from personal experience. She nodded and squeezed the older woman's hands.
"I...I'll try. I just..."
"Wildflower, you are who you are," Haruka said gently. "Be proud of that. Otherwise you're going to be ashamed of it." She winked and slid out of her grasp. Makoto slowly drew her hands to her chest, contemplating what she had been told. She felt something gently passing through her hair, just as Haruka passed her a mirror. She gazed with quiet joy as she saw a flower had been placed.
"There, see?" Haruka said, offering a proud smile. "You can have it both ways." Makoto gingerly touched the place where the flower had been set, and had to admit—it felt right. She felt right.
"Thanks, Haruka," she whispered, glancing back at...wait, where did she go? Makoto bolted to her feet, instantly regretting it as her injury throbbed with electric pain. She saw Haruka sailing away on a small boat, waving with one hand while the other clutched her side.
"Sorry, I'm terrible at good-byes, but you already knew that," she shouted. She then hoisted up the wine bottle. "I'm taking this as a souvenir! I think it's a fair trade." Makoto waved back, extending her palm, pointing up with her finger. Haruka pressed her palm and fist together.
"Take care of yourself, then!" Makoto replied. "The next time we meet, let me cook a meal for you!"
"How about a race instead?"
"No way, you're faster than me!"
"So get better," she called, and was soon gone. Makoto still waved.
"I will! You can count on that." She clutched both her souvenirs from the encounter, and went limping back to the medical ward, where she recovered from one and admired the other.
…...
Motoki raised an inquisitive eyebrow as he read Makoto's report, then glanced at her, then back at the report—then at her again, more than a little perturbed. She just sat there quietly, hands folded, smiling tightly. He looked at the report and then back at her, noticing the flower in her hair.
"Is there something wrong? That's everything." Makoto indicated the papers she had filed. Motoki inhaled sharply and sighed, putting them away for later.
"No, you were concise as always. It's just...Scum Bucket?"
"I know. They're very proud of it." Motoki let out a beleaguered hiss.
"It takes all kinds, I suppose. Well, they've sworn loyalty to me, so I'll put them to good use somewhere. Maybe they can help find Sifu Mishkin. Their only real crime was smuggling, anyway."
"That's good. They seem like a pretty decent bunch, despite their, ah...passions."
"Yes," he grumbled, simultaneously amused and bemused. He pointed to the flower. "Where'd you get that? Those don't grow in this area." Makoto withdrew shyly.
"A friend gave it to me." Motoki nodded.
"And that bruise on your abdomen?" Makoto smirked.
"Same friend." He paused, processed this unusual contradiction, and gave her a look, not sure whether to profess love or frustration. She played with her ponytail, a surefire sign that she was holding a secret from him. Well, no matter: everyone was alive and the operation had been a success.
"And I'm marrying you next month. You know, it's awful: some people thought I should have been betrothed to Kotono of the Fire Nation. They said that I needed a more elegant wife to rule alongside me."
"They don't know Kotono very well," Makoto chuckled. Motoki nodded.
"They weren't there when she and her brother stormed Beryl's palace, or liberated Fire Fountain City, or contested the djinn of Ember Island. Even so, I'd choose you over her any day."
"I'm flattered, but why? They do have a point, you know: I'm not exactly the most refined woman out there."
"Perhaps, but Omashu doesn't need someone who'll faint at the first sight of blood, or who'd rather go to the opera than a war room. Its queen must be strong. You have that quality in spades, my dear." He approached her as she blushed, caressed her face, cradling the flower in her hair with all the gentle reverence a king possessed. Their eyes locked. "But if you ask me, I say you're plenty refined already. And I wouldn't have you any other way. I love you, Makoto."
"Motoki..." Her eyes welled up with tears, and he kissed her, and she kissed him. He told her he'd be returning to Omashu in three days, and would be honored if she would accompany him. "You know I'll be there, silly," she laughed gently. "You can't plan this wedding without me."
She asked him to meet her on the temple balcony that evening, and wore a shimmering green dress for the occasion. A crown of laurels circled her head, and the fragrance of myrtle wafted from her skin. She curtsied low as he appeared in the waning moonlight, and asked him for a dance. His face glowed as he bowed, kissed her hand, and accepted.
The End of "A Moment with Makoto"
Next time: "Mermaids"