10 years later

-

"Good morning, Young Commander,"

Zhenyu squared his shoulders, trying to pretend that he belonged in the room full of seasoned generals and advisors. His 16th birthday had passed the week before, and his parents had decided that that marked the appropriate age in which he could now attend the council meetings that consumed so much of their time.

Running an empire was even more complicated than he could've imagined. As the years had passed, he had slowly learned more of what it entailed. In his childlike innocence, he'd only seen his mother and father as his caretakers for the majority of his life. Now he had been confronted with the reality that the future of the world lay in the palm of their hands- and that one day, it would be in his'.

He had formally joined the military the day after his 16th birthday. His parents being the Great Commanders of the most powerful nation in the world meant that he wouldn't have the traditional trajectory of a new recruit. Even still, he hadn't been given leniency in the way of training. Rather, the expectations set for him were far higher. He'd spent almost every day in the dojo for as long as he could remember. Although the ability to bend the earth never blossomed in his fingertips, he'd grown more and more apt in the way of martial arts.

The same couldn't be said for Lihua. She was five years his junior, and she had first shifted the earth when she was only five. Zhenyu remembered the day clearly. The family had gone on a walk, and Lihua had trailed off ahead of them aimlessly, babbling to the air as she narrated a story in which she was the heroine. While his mother and father were lost in a conversation about diplomatic communication with the Northern Water Tribe, Lihua had gestured her hand in the air, sending a rock flying at the imaginary troll in her story. He had pointed it out to his parents with complete disbelief, and she had demonstrated the skill again. Overjoyed, the family had celebrated the development with almond cookies.

He still remembered how frustrated he had been- how frustrated he still was, in a lot of ways. Lihua hadn't put in a tenth of the amount of work he had in his life, and yet she had acquired the bending he had longed for for as long as he could remember.

The same wound had been aggravated when his younger brother, Zimo, had recently demonstrated the ability to bend shortly after his fourth birthday had passed. The development had prompted similar celebrations. Twice in a row, his two siblings had been given a gift he couldn't ever hope to achieve.

Zhenyu knew relishing in his bitterness wouldn't do him much good. Although he sometimes still fell into frustration over the subject, he tried his best to use his time for more productive manners. He still believed himself to be the future of the empire. The weight of the world would slowly be transferred to him.

"The election will be heavily contested either way," General Xu pointed out in the sterile council room, crossing his arms across his chest. "That's irregardless of whether or not it's a valid election in the first place."

The United Republic would soon face another presidential election. Chiko Utsumi had won the last two, resulting in him holding the position for the past ten years. With only a couple of weeks out from the monumental day, their council had begun preparing for the ramifications of the results.

"I have a feeling Utsumi won't respond kindly to criticism. He's gotten more brazen in the last couple of years," Baatar replied, his eyebrows furrowed into one of sheer concentration. "We do recall how he dealt with the shipping port riots."

Zhenyu stared at his father. At the age of 16, Zhenyu was already taller than his mother, but his father was taller still. He noticed the man's authoritative stature that had grown more confident over the years. He squared his shoulders, trying to emulate the stance.

"Indeed. I want to speak to him before it happens- and see what his plans are," Kuvira said, pressing her hand against the table.

"I imagine he's too busy campaigning at current to arrange a meeting," General Meng commented, a disdain evident in his voice. A small faction of the council had been opposed to the union between the United Republic and the Earth Empire- a common source of bickering.

It wasn't as though it was an entirely wholesome friendship. Although Chiko Utsumi had made the most significant alliance with the Earth Empire in their (albeit short) history, tensions still ran subtly underway. The hatred of the past couldn't be so quickly dissolved. Even still, on the face of it all, the two were allied. The Earth Empire had adopted the technologies of the Republic, and the Republic had gained regular shipments of ore and other resources.

"He'll need to make time," Kuvira dismissed with a scowl. "It's pivotal that we know what he's up to before he does anything stupid- and drags us into it."

Zhenyu held his chin up, trying to force the confidence of his mother into his own stature. He wasn't sure who he was convincing.

-

"So he isn't meddling with the election, and he won't do anything if voted out- how good of him," Baatar remarked dryly, scowling as he started the automobile. "He's a pillar of virtue."

Kuvira rolled her eyes, adjusting her hair as they drew nearer to their border wall. The meeting had occured in the no-man's-land between the two countries a week prior to the impending election. Chiko Utsumi had presumably found the time despite his aggressive campaigning. The perpetually optimistic man had arrived with a velvet suit and a mouthful of assurances- but there was something unnerving behind the glint in his eye.

Baatar didn't trust him. He'd grown remarkably less sympathetic to the leader of the United Republic over the years. He was enthused by the technological developments gained through the union, but was otherwise disdainful. He couldn't precisely identify why. By all measurable data, it had been overwhelmingly beneficial to the empire. A substantial growth in trade had made their nation richer than ever before. They'd enjoyed the luxury of pure confidence on the world stage as they were now aligned with their sister country. Regardless, he couldn't shake the personal misgivings he'd harbored towards Chiko Utsumi.

"I think we need to prepare for the worst," he added, shaking his head. "I just can't fathom this going well, no matter how it pans out. Utsumi is almost certainly fixing things in his favor without regard for the consequences. There's no way he'll step down. He's betting on our mecha suits if it comes down to it."

"You shouldn't be so pessimistic," his wife retorted, cocking an eyebrow in his direction. "You always assume the worst of him. It would be a much bigger problem if he did step down and we had to deal with a new puppet of the council for the next five years."

"We're talking about civil war, Kuvira," Baatar returned with a sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Which we'd be obliged to involve ourselves in."

"Not necessarily," Kuvira countered, her gaze hardening. "If Chiko acts foolishly, we won't intervene on his behalf. We can let Republic City tear themselves apart if need be."

"Do you hear yourself, Kuvira?" Baatar replied swiftly. "We're talking about real people suffering because of Chiko Utsumi's ego trip!"

"...I don't want anyone to suffer, but their political situation is their own fault," Kuvira justified, though she softened slightly at his remark. "We'll be vigilant, Baatar. Everything will be alright."

He looked back at her wearily, trying to force himself to believe her. He turned his gaze back to the road ahead.

-

"Again," General Meng said, his voice cutting through the dojo sharply.

Zhenyu was more tired than he cared to admit. Sweat had drenched the back of his gi, and his arms were trembling with exertion. They'd spent the beginning of class conditioning today, and he could feel it. Even still, he lowered himself down into a plank, feeling discomfort ripple through his abdomen.

He heard Chen grunt beside him. He glanced over and caught sight of his face. He was red and flustered, but determination was knit in his eyebrows. They'd grown up together, and Zhenyu could almost always read the other boy. He was tired, just like him.

Zhenyu fell first. He had held the stance as long as possible, but eventually exhaustion took its toll. General Meng typically didn't end exercises early. He waited until one of the boys faltered, and the other could claim momentary victory. It was a training tactic that Zhenyu didn't care for. There was a constant strain of competition over something as simple as pushups. He didn't look his peer in the face as his arms burned.

"I win," Chen mumbled, lowering himself onto his knees with a shaky breath.

Zhenyu scowled. He opened his mouth as if to speak, before biting back his response. There was no point evolving the situation into something greater than it was. He stood up and brushed off his hands.

"We don't have too much time left," General Meng commented, glancing at a clock on the wall. "Why don't we end with a proper spar, hm? Medium contact, into submission."

Zhenyu grit his teeth. Typically, he rather enjoyed sparring. It felt more real that continuous drills or strength training exercises. But this evening, all he really wanted to do was go home and sleep. Even still, he nodded. "Yes, sir," he replied, before positioning himself on the far end of the dojo.

Chen took his place. The boys had sparred more times than either could remember. They both lowered themselves into a traditional bow of respect, before taking their starting stances.

"Begin!"

Chen moved first, darting forward with the agility of a viper. He threw a quick jab aimed at Zhenyu's chest. Zhenyu sidestepped, his reflexes sharp, and retaliated with a low kick aimed at Chen's shin. Chen blocked it smoothly, his movements fluid as he spun and countered with a roundhouse kick.

Zhenyu ducked under the kick and lunged forward, aiming to grapple. His arms locked around Chen's waist, and for a moment, it seemed like he might force his rival to the ground. But Chen shifted his weight away, breaking free of Zhenyu's grip and stepping back to create distance.

"You look tired," Chen taunted, his smirk infuriatingly familiar.

"I'm tired of not having real competition," Zhenyu retorted. He feigned a high strike with his left hand, causing Chen to raise his guard. In the same instant, Zhenyu pivoted and delivered a sweeping kick to Chen's legs. The impact sent Chen stumbling, his balance faltering just enough for Zhenyu to close the gap.

He grabbed Chen's arm and twisted, using his opponent's momentum to throw him onto the mat. The room echoed with the sound of Chen hitting the ground, but he was quick to recover, attempting to roll away and regain his footing.

Zhenyu anticipated the reaction. He followed Chen's roll, his body moving with practiced precision. Before Chen could fully rise, Zhenyu lunged again, his knee pressing down on Chen's back as he grabbed for his rival's arm. With a swift motion, Zhenyu locked Chen's arm in a submission hold, his grip firm but controlled.

Chen struggled, his body twisting and straining against the hold. But Zhenyu's position was solid, his weight pinning Chen down as he tightened his grip just enough to force compliance.

"Tap out," Zhenyu said, his voice low and steady. Sweat dripped from his brow, but his determination was unshaken. He wouldn't lose- not this time.

For a moment, Chen resisted, his pride refusing to let him concede. Finally, with a sharp exhale, he tapped the mat twice with his free hand.

"Enough," Master Meng called, stepping forward. Zhenyu immediately released Chen, rolling back and standing up as his opponent remained on the mat, breathing heavily.

The room was silent again. Zhenyu extended a hand to Chen, his expression light

Chen scowled, his pride stinging from the loss. He rolled to his knees and pushed himself up, rejecting the offer. He avoided Zhenyu's gaze, his jaw clenched tightly.

"Well done, Zhenyu," Master Meng said, nodding at his pupil. "Your technique was solid. You two can stretch- I'm going to see if your mother is here yet, Zhenyu. I need to speak with her." He disappeared from the room, leaving the two alone.

He waited until the door shut, and General Meng's footsteps disappeared down the hallway. "Now I win," Zhenyu announced indignantly, smirking at his flustered foe. He turned around to grab his water on the side of the room. He let the forbidden zeal of pride rush through his veins.

A sudden weight collided with his side, throwing him immediately downwards before he could comprehend what had happened. He made swift contact with the ground as a yelp escaped his lips. Before he could react properly, the weight shifted, and the view of his friend came into view. Chen, red in the face and livid, crawled on top of him, throwing a punch down at his face. "How's that for a win, you dick?" He spat.

Zhenyu absorbed the strike helplessly, before overcoming the initial shock. He wrapped his legs around his back, and threw his weight to the side. He rolled on top of him and disengaged from the embrace, falling back. "What the hell's the matter with you?" He breathed, looking bewildered back at his friend. He felt his heart race aggressively.

"You think you're better than me because your mommy and daddy are important, and they're going to give you the Empire on a silver platter," Chen seethed, glaring up at him. "You go out of your way to try and embarrass me in front of my dad!"

Zhenyu grit his teeth. He felt anger burn in his chest, and he lashed forward with a punch, landing it swiftly against his cheek. "You're just jealous," he reviled, pulling himself away and standing up. "I didn't go out of my way to do shit. You're just not as good, and you don't know how to deal with it."

"Oh yeah? Let's deal with it, then," Chen barked, standing up and wobbling slightly on his feet. "We can deal with it right now if you have the balls!"

Zhenyu looked back at him, trying to gauge what had shifted so dramatically. The pent up frustration of years, flourishing now in the eyes of his first and only friend. He considered taking him up on the offer. He thought about flying forward, making the sparring match into something more real. But he couldn't. Something in him constricted, and he merely shook his head.

"Coward," Chen seethed, his words dripping with bitterness.

Zhenyu let the word land like a strike. He recoiled away, following General Meng out into the hallway. He felt the burning gaze of his friend, and he tried to ignore its sting.

Author's note:

As you might have noticed, this chapter took much longer than normal for me to get out. The truth is, I've been really unmotivated to continue this story. I am going to put it on hiatus as of now. Hopefully one day I'll come back to this, but I'm not sure when. Much love, and I really hope you enjoyed. (灬º‿º灬)