13 THE JOURNEY SOUTH
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No ceremony. No speeches. Just motion—the low groan of wood as the ship pulled away from the ice, the steady rush of water bending to human will.
Northern waterbenders lined the rails and the stern, arms moving in smooth, synchronized arcs as they guided the sea itself.
The water responded eagerly, curling and pushing against the hull, driving the ship forward with patient, relentless force.
The sail was raised, catching what little wind there was, but it was the bending that truly carried them. A controlled current flowed beneath the ship, luminous in places where morning light caught the surface.
Appa occupied the center of the deck, massive and placid, legs tucked beneath him as if this were the most natural thing in the world.
He rumbled softly, tail flicking now and then as the ship rocked beneath him.
Aang hovered nearby, doing his best to help—hands slicing through the air and water with earnest concentration.
His currents were uneven, sometimes too strong, sometimes barely there, but the northern benders adjusted without comment.
Katara stood amongst them too, sleeves already soaked, jaw set in fierce focus. Her movements lacked the polish of the masters around her, but there was power there—raw and intuitive.
Sokka, for his part, had stationed himself near Appa's flank, one hand gripping a rope, the other shielding his eyes as he leaned out over the railing.
"I just want it on record," he called over the rush of water, "that if this ship sinks, it will not be because I wasn't emotionally prepared for it. "
No one answered him.
Undeterred, he continued, glancing between the bending and the sea below. "Also, I feel like strapping the world's largest flying bison to a boat should require more discussion. Or at least a meeting."
Appa flicked his tail, spraying Sokka with cold seawater.
"Okay, wow," Sokka sputtered. "Message received."
Hai remained near the stern.
He leaned against the rail, fingers gripping the cold wood, watching the lights of the Northern Water Tribe recede into the distance. The city glittered against the ice—beautiful, enduring, impossibly far away already.
He felt... unmoored.
The path ahead was clear enough.
Help the Avatar.
And yet every surge of water beneath the hull felt like another thread being cut.
Soon, he would have to leave the ship and Pakku behind as well—depart with the Avatar and his friends for the Earth Kingdom, to search for the earthbending teacher Aang insisted they find.
"Careful," A familiar voice said behind him. "If you glare any harder, you'll return to the tribe."
Hai startled despite himself and turned.
Master Pakku stood a few steps away, hands clasped behind his back, beard stirring in the salt-heavy breeze. His expression was neutral, but his eyes were sharp with the same quiet awareness Hai had grown up under.
"Wasn't glaring." Hai said automatically.
Pakku hummed. "Of course not."
He moved to the rail beside Hai, resting one hand against the wood as he looked out over the waterbenders guiding the ship. For a moment, they stood in silence, the rhythm of the water filling the space between them.
Then, Pakku spoke.
"I haven't sailed south in over forty years." He said.
Hai blinked. That was... not what he'd expected. "I know."
"I told myself I never would," Pakku continued. "Said the South chose its path. Said I chose mine." His mouth tightened. "Said a lot of things."
Hai watched him from the corner of his eye. Pakku didn't often speak like this. Not without purpose.
"And?" Hai prompted quietly.
Pakku let out a soft, humorless chuckle. "And apparently I was lying to myself the entire time."
Hai smiled faintly despite himself.
Pakku's gaze drifted outward, toward the pale line of sunlight stretching across the water.
"Katara and Sokka's grandmother," he said at last, voice gentler now.
"Kanna." The name lingered on his tongue.
"She was the bravest person I ever knew.
Leaving everything she loved because it was the only way to stay herself. "
Hai swallowed. He'd heard the story in fragments—whispers of a woman who fled the North, who chose freedom over tradition. Never like this. Never from the man she left behind.
"I loved her," Pakku said simply. No drama. No flourish. Just truth. "I never stopped."
The words settled between them like snow—quiet, heavy, impossible to ignore.
"I'm... nervous," Pakku admitted, as if the confession cost him something. "To see what time has done. To see if I waited too long."
Pakku turned, inevitably, back to him. "You." He said.
Hai stiffened. "Me?"
"Your turn," Pakku replied mildly. "For honesty." His eyes sharpened—not unkind, but unyielding. "You've been carrying it since we left the North. Don't insult me by pretending otherwise."
Hai exhaled slowly. Somewhere behind them, Aang laughed softly at something Sokka said, the sound distant but grounding.
"I was scared." Hai said.
Pakku raised an eyebrow. "You?"
Hai snorted quietly. "I've trained my whole life. Sparring. Forms. Controlled duels. But fighting like that? Fire everywhere. People trying to kill each other. Spirits tearing the world apart?" He shook his head. "I didn't know if I'd freeze. Or run."
"But you didn't." Pakku noted.
"No," Hai said. "But that almost makes it worse."
Pakku watched him carefully now.
"I'm scared of how... easy it became," Hai continued. "How fast my instincts took over. How much of me knew exactly how to hurt someone . How reckless I became." His jaw tightened. "And I hate that I left. It feels wrong."
Pakku was quiet for a long time.
Then he reached out and knocked his knuckles lightly against Hai's—brief, grounding contact. "Leaving doesn't mean abandoning." He said. "Sometimes it means surviving long enough to honor what was lost. Take Kanna for example."
Hai swallowed, throat burning.
"I don't feel like I deserve to move forward." He admitted. "Not without Yue."
Pakku's gaze softened. "None of us ever do. That's not the point."
They shared a look then—teacher and student, yes, but something closer now. Something earned.
Hai bowed his head slightly. "Thank you," he said. "For... everything. For teaching me. For pushing me. For not letting me be lazy."
Pakku scoffed, though there was no heat in it. "You were never lazy. Reckless, maybe."
Hai smiled faintly. "That too."
Pakku nodded once before turning and reaching into his sleeve. His actions were slow and deliberate, as if giving himself time to reconsider. When his hand emerged, it held a small glass vial, sealed carefully with pale wax etched in familiar Northern glyphs.
Hai's breath caught before his mind could catch up.
The liquid inside glowed faintly — not bright, not dramatic. Just... alive. Moonlight caught and contained, gentle and devastating all at once.
Spirit Oasis water.
Pakku held it out between them.
Hai didn't take it right away.
"Your father wanted you to take this on your journey. To take her with you."
"I—" His voice faltered. He cleared his throat. "I shouldn't."
"No. You should." Pakku said, cutting him off without raising his voice.
The words landed heavy.
"You saw what it costs," Pakku continued. "You understand that power is never given freely. And you understand what it means to carry it without asking."
Hai's fingers trembled as he finally reached out, closing them around the vial. The glass was warm against his palm.
Yue's face rose unbidden in his mind — calm, resolved, already halfway gone.
"This isn't a symbol," Pakku said gruffly. "It's a responsibility."
Hai nodded, throat tight. "I won't waste it."
"I know," Pakku replied. "That's why it's yours."
For a heartbeat, something almost like pride flickered across Pakku's face — and then it was gone, buried beneath the familiar sternness.
"Keep it close," Pakku added. "For when the world decides you owe it more than you can afford."
Hai swallowed hard. "Thank you," he said quietly.
Pakku nodded once, then turned back toward the sea. His mouth opened, as if he wished to say more, but that was when—
"Uh—sorry."
The interruption came softly, but it still cut clean through the silence.
Hai turned as Aang approached, staff tucked awkwardly under one arm, expression caught somewhere between apologetic and determined.
Katara lingered just behind him, eyes flicking briefly to the vial in Hai's hand before returning to Aang.
Sokka stood farther back, arms crossed, very obviously listening despite pretending that he wasn't.
"I didn't mean to interrupt," Aang said quickly. "But I think, that it's probably best if we head for the Earth Kingdom now."
Aang nodded, then took a breath like he was bracing himself.
The words settled over the deck like a tide changing direction.
"I'm grateful you allowed us to hitch a ride with you, but we've already stayed longer than we meant to," Aang continued, earnest as ever. "And I really need to find an earthbending teacher. Before things get worse."
Hai felt the pull of it immediately — the shift from waiting to moving, from grief to momentum.
Pakku studied Aang for a long moment, then nodded once. "You're right," he said. "No sense drifting when the current's already decided."
He clapped his hands together sharply, moving towards the centre of the ship. "Slow the ship."
The waterbenders moved at once, bending the sea with practiced ease until the ship's forward motion eased into a near-standstill. There was no land in sight. Just open water and choice.
Beside them, Appa rumbled, rising to his feet with a powerful stretch, wings flexing instinctively. He already knew.
Aang smiled up at him, relief breaking through the tension. "Ready, buddy?"
Katara stepped closer to Hai as they prepared to board, her voice low. "You okay?"
Hai nodded, tucking the vial safely into his inner pocket. "I will be."
She didn't argue.
They mounted Appa carefully, the sky bison steady even as the ship rocked beneath them.
His fur was warm under Hai's palms, familiar already, grounding in a way the rolling sea always had been.
When Appa lifted, the deck dropped away all at once — sails shrinking, voices swallowed by wind — until Pakku stood alone at the rail, a dark, immovable silhouette carved against endless blue.
Hai didn't look back.
Couldn't.
The Northern Water Tribe had always been ice and certainty and rules carved deep into bone. It had been walls and expectations and a future already decided for him. Leaving it felt less like flight and more like tearing free — like something stitched too tight finally giving way.
The air grew warmer as they climbed, salt replacing snow, the horizon blurring into something softer, less defined. Katara leaned forward against the saddle, eyes fixed ahead. Sokka cracked a joke that didn't quite land. Aang hummed quietly to himself, the sound carried away by the wind.
Hai pressed a hand instinctively to his chest, fingers brushing the vial hidden there. The Spirit Oasis water was warm — impossibly so — a quiet reminder of what he carried now. Of what he had been trusted with.
Ahead of them lay the Earth Kingdom — stone and dust and cities carved straight into mountainsides. Somewhere within it waited an earthbending teacher. Someone who could teach Aang how to stand his ground when the world tried to move him.
And Hai would walk that path with him.
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I also wanted to talk a little about the ending choice.
I've read a handful of Zuko fics where he escapes at the end and the OC goes with him.
And honestly? I get the appeal. Zuko isn't really involved with Team Avatar during the whole "tracking down Aang's earthbending teacher" arc, so from a structural standpoint, it makes total sense to send the OC off with him and keep that parallel storyline going.
But for this story, it just didn't feel right for Hai.
At this point, Hai has fought Zuko, watched him kidnap the Avatar, and then fought with him again not long after.
Yes, they end up fighting Zhao together, but from Hai's perspective?
From the emotional tension, the trust (or lack thereof), and the arc I wanted to build?
Him just packing up and leaving with Zuko would've undercut all of that.
It would've been easier, sure—but it wouldn't have been honest to where Hai is mentally or where I want the story to land.
That said—don't panic. Zuko isn't gone for good. Not even close. He'll be back in Part Two, and if you think you know how or when... well. Let's just say I have plans, and some of them might surprise you!
Again, thank you for reading, for caring, and for letting me ramble a little here at the end of part one. I'll see you very soon for what comes next x