The Decision
The sunrise after the storm had no idea what Kyoshi had been through. It shined its warm hues of orange through the clouds like a loud boor of a friend insisting that everything would work out. The waves below flowed neatly under the steady breeze, making it appear that they were flying over the scaled skin of a giant fish.
Fighting the weather throughout the night had blasted them, body and mind. Pengpeng’s flight path was starting to ramble. But they were no longer in danger from wind and lightning. It was as good a time as any to address the other life-shattering piece of news.
Rangi rubbed at the dark shadows under her eyes. “You’re the Avatar,” she said. She spread her fingers and stared at the back of her hands, checking whether she was intoxicated. Or dreaming. “After all of this, it’s you. You really had no idea until now?”
Kyoshi shook her head. “I don’t know what went wrong with the search when we were younger, but from what Kelsang told me, it sounded like a complete mess. No one knew. Not even ...” It was difficult to spit out his name. “Not even Jianzhu.”
“I’ve never heard of this happening before,” Rangi said. She closed and opened her fists to make sure they were still working. “At least not in Fire Nation history. When the Fire Sages reveal the Avatar, it’s a done deal.”
Kyoshi fought the urge to roll her eyes. Of course, in the Fire Nation the caravans arrived on time, and the identity of the most important person in the world was never in doubt.
“And then there’s a festival,” Rangi said, lost in thought. “According to tradition, there’s a celebration bigger than Twin Sun Day. We eat special foods like spiral-shaped noodles. School is canceled. Do you know how rare it is for school to be canceled in the Fire Nation?”
“Rangi, what does that have to do with anything?”
The Firebender stretched her elbows behind her back, her mind made up. “My point is that there are set ways this is supposed to pan out,” she said. “If you’re the Avatar, you need the trappings of the Avatar. We need to find masters who know what they’re doing to recognize your legitimacy and give you the right guidance.”
Rangi vaulted over the saddle edge onto Pengpeng’s neck and took up the reins. The bison dipped lower over the shimmering water. Up ahead, a small crag jutted from the surface, a finger of rock poking through the ocean sheet. It was too steep for ships to use it as a dock, but there were a few level surfaces near the top, covered in soft green moss.
“I’m going to drop you off here, where you can camp safely,” Rangi said. “There’s a protocol in the event the compound came under attack and I had to flee with the Avatar. Those bags were prepacked; there’s everything you need for a week in them. Once I return to the village and figure the situation out, I’ll bring someone who can help.”
“No!”
She couldn’t go to another master, especially not a well-known one. Any earthbender in a position to aid her was more likely than not to be part of Jianzhu’s web. Looking back on her time at the house, she’d seen the evidence of his reach every day. The gifts, the ceremonious visits, and the dictated letters were simply tokens that marked the flow of power and control in the Earth Kingdom. And for as long as she’d known, it all filtered up to Jianzhu.
Kyoshi scrambled over to Rangi and yanked the reins out of her hands. Pengpeng swerved to the side and roared in complaint.
“Stop that!” Rangi shouted.
“Rangi, please! You’d only be sending me right back into his hands!” Kyoshi nearly bit through her tongue as she remembered the horror Jianzhu unleashed from deep within the mountain and his complete callousness while he did so. Rangi couldn’t have known the extent of her fear. Kyoshi was certain the man hadn’t shown that side of himself to anyone but her and Yun.
Rangi fought with her for the reins. “Let go! You’re being ridiculous!”
“Rangi, as your Avatar, I command you!”
The Firebender recoiled like she’d been struck by a whip. The order wasn’t one of Yun’s jokes. It was an exploitation of Rangi’s oath to protect and obey the Avatar. An attack on her honor.
Rangi blew a long strand of black hair out of her face. It didn’t go very far, the end of it sticking to her mouth. “I suppose I have to get used to you saying that.”
There was an agonizing distance in her voice, and Kyoshi despised it. She didn’t want a professional bodyguard obeying her orders. She wanted her Rangi, who scolded her without hesitation and never backed down.
They spent a long time in silence, listening to the breeze pick up.
“Yun is gone,” Rangi said. “He’s really gone.” Her voice seemed thin, drawn out by the passing wind, like the notes of a flute. She sounded hollow inside.
Kyoshi had no comfort to give her. Both of their lives had centered around duty. Kyoshi’s for the sake of survival, Rangi’s for pride and glory. But Yun had managed to pierce both their shells. Their friend had been stolen, and as far as Kyoshi was concerned, there was a single path laid out before her that she could take in response, lit by the clean, bright fires of hatred.
“I’m not ready to confront Jianzhu,” Kyoshi said. “I’m not nearly strong enough yet. I have to find bending masters who can teach me to fight and who aren’t in his pocket.”
In fact, it was more than that. She’d need teachers who were completely unknown to Jianzhu. If he suspected she was after training, he’d look for her in schools around the Four Nations.
And she’d have to conceal she was the Avatar. That news would spread so fast it would act as a beacon for Jianzhu, allowing him to close in on her before she was prepared. She didn’t have a good idea how she’d obtain instruction in all four elements without giving the game up, but she’d make it work somehow.
The idea sounded ludicrous in her head. It was ludicrous. And yet Kyoshi knew she would walk off this cliff without hesitation. She would stick both hands into a dragon’s mouth if it meant the slightest chance she could pay back Jianzhu what she owed him.
Rangi dragged her hand down her face. “Fine. Bending masters. Where do you want to look first? You’re talking like you have a plan, so let’s hear it.”
“You’re not coming with me,” Kyoshi said. “I have to do this alone.”
The Firebender gave her a look of such utter contempt for that notion that it could have been grounds for an Agni Kai. Kyoshi was afraid this might happen. Rangi’s powerful faith, her need to fulfill her duty, would spiral around with no spot to land on but her.
She had to stand strong. She’d lost so much already, and she wasn’t going to risk her one remaining connection to this world on a fool’s quest. “You’re not coming with me,” Kyoshi repeated. “As your Avatar I command you to stay behind. Rangi, I’m serious.”
She wanted to sound angry, but the effect was ruined by the overwhelming tide of relief she felt at Rangi’s rejection of her demand. A strictly professional servant of the Avatar couldn’t disobey her, but a companion might.
“I have no idea how long this journey will take,” Kyoshi said. “And there are secrets about me that I haven’t told you.”
“Oh no, Kyoshi’s keeping a secret from me,” Rangi moaned an octave lower than normal. “I think I’ll be okay with whatever your little revelation is, given the last thing you sprung on me was only the most important piece of information ON THE PLANET.”
The crag passed them by, a silent onlooker that wanted no part of the conversation. The last marker of reason in an ocean of uncertainty. From this point onward there was nothing but trouble ahead.
But at least Kyoshi had her friend back.
“We need rest, or we’ll lose effectiveness,” Rangi declared, nestling herself under the corner of a tarp that had come loose. “If you’ve got a destination in mind then I’m taking the first sleep shift. You owe me that much.”
“Rangi.” Kyoshi tried one last time to growl in threat. Instead the name came out like a dedication of thanks to the spirits for this fiery blessing of a girl. It was futile trying to mask how Kyoshi felt toward her.
“Where you go, I go.” The Firebender rolled to her side and yawned. “Besides, there’s only one bison, rocks-for-brains. We can’t split up now.”
Despite how tired they were, Rangi only dozed fitfully, shivering though it was no longer cold. Watching her from a distance, Kyoshi had an answer regarding the little snips of breath she’d listened to for so long in their shared tent on the iceberg. It was how Rangi cried in her sleep. Every so often, she would burrow her face into her shoulders to wipe her tears.
With their eyes on each other, it was easy to be brave. Maybe that’s the only way we get through this, Kyoshi thought. Just never look away.
She stared at the water until the sun’s reflection became too much, and then reached for her single bag of belongings. Digging around, she found the clay turtle. It was made of earth. It was tiny. She could use it for practice.
Small, she thought as she cradled it with both hands. Precise. Silent. Small.
She curled her lips in concentration. It was like crooking the tip of her pinky while wiggling her opposite ear. She needed a whole-body effort to keep her focus sufficiently narrow.
There was another reason why she didn’t want to seek instruction from a famous bending master with a sterling reputation and wisdom to spare. Such a teacher would never let her kill Jianzhu in cold blood. Her hunger to learn all four elements had nothing to do with becoming a fully realized Avatar. Fire, Air, and Water were simply more weapons she could bring to bear on a single target.
And she had to bring her earthbending up to speed too.
Small. Precise.
The turtle floated upward, trembling in the air.
It wasn’t steady the way bent earth should be, more of a wobbling top on its last few spins. But she was bending it. The smallest piece of earth she’d ever managed to control.
A minor victory. This was only the beginning of her path. She would need much more practice to see Jianzhu broken in pieces before her feet, to steal his world away from him the way he had stolen hers, to make him suffer as much as possible before she ended his miserable worthless life—
There was a sharp crack.
The turtle fractured along innumerable fault lines. The smallest parts, the blunt little tail and squat legs, crumbled first. The head fell off and bounced over the edge of the saddle. She tried to close her grip around the rest of it and caught only dust. The powdered clay slipped between her fingers and was taken by the breeze.
Her only keepsake of Kelsang flew away on the wind.