My dearest love Kyota,

In all the vastness of the universe, together we are whole,

The cosmos etched our love within our souls.

From the simple seeds, to the stars we gaze,

In such awe of life’s eternal blaze.

In the glow of my life, stretching far and wide,

We found our place, our paths fated to collide.

As eternal wanderers in the cosmic sea,

Together discovering the realms of possibility.

So do not cry, even as I die.

Please celebrate for eternity,

For what we had, meant oh so much to me.

In the dance of love, I am yours. Eternally.

Your Igham

Tenzin:

“Tell it to me one more time, please.” Tenzin spoke to the officer at the door.

“Sir, the Avatar was found. Yesterday there was an investigation in Small Omashu and a squad was performing a blanket search for a criminal in the local area. Details are unclear, but the force suffered heavy damages as there was a collapse in one of the deep tunnels. As of today, we do not know how or why the Avatar was with them but she was found heavily concussed, a broken arm, and bleeding internally. We evacuated her, along with the search squad, to one of the nearest clinic’s where she has remained due to her injuries. As her guardian, you have the right, and responsibility, to be made aware of yesterday’s events.”

“Yes, and I apologize for asking you to repeat yourself, but are you sure it is the Avatar?” Tenzin asked for the fourth time. Hoping there was some mistake.

“Sir, with all due respect, the White Lotus has blood, fingerprint, hair, imaging, dental and vocal signatures of the Avatar. We too, have access to those records to which we used to positively ID Korra. I can assure you it is the Avatar.”

Deeply sighing and rubbing his forehead to stave off the headache forming, Tenzin spoke, “Yes, but why would the Avatar even be in the Tunnels? She arrived in Republic City mere weeks ago.”

“Again sir, we do not know but we are investigating all facts around the circumstances. When we know, you will be made aware as well.” The officer replied, a hint of annoyance creeping into his tone.

“What about her polar bear dog? She never goes anywhere without that beast.” Tenzin asked.

“We only found her, sir. No sign of a polar bear dog. Again, if we find more facts in our ongoing investigation you will be made aware. This includes details around a polar bear dog.”

Realizing he wasn’t going to get anywhere further with this officer, Tenzin sighed in defeat. “Very well, thank you for informing me, officer.”

“It is my duty, but thank you. Enjoy your day, sir.” Officer Jung replied.

“And you as well.” Tenzin spoke before closing the door.

Tenzin, turned once the door was shut. Glancing he saw his wife at the table and his kids quietly eating. Trying, and failing, not to look in his direction. No doubt they listened in on the entire conversation, Tenzin thought, nosy brats.

Tenzin walked back to his seat at the table and sat down. His daughter, Jinora making eye contact with Ikki before glancing at his wife, Pema, silently communicating Trinity knows what.

After a pregnant pause, Pema decided to discuss each of the girls’ day. Appreciating his wife not bringing up the elephant-lion in the room, Tenzin remained silent and ate his supper. As usual, his oldest daughter, Jinora, chattered away, her words a rapid-fire stream of school events, friends, and fantastical stories. Next to her, ten-year-old Ikki sat quietly, pushing peas around her plate, her face half-hidden behind her curtain of dark hair.

The chair beside Ikki was conspicuously empty, a reminder of Korra who should have been there. Tenzin’s mind wandered to the clinic where likely she lay, and he clenched his jaw to stifle a sigh in frustration over her rash choices.

"Dad, did you hear what I said?" Jinora’s voice cut through his thoughts, her big brown eyes searching his face for a response.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he replied, forcing a smile. "I missed that. Can you repeat it?"

"I was saying that Mrs. Deung picked my poem to read at the school assembly next week! Can you believe it?" Her eyes sparkled with excitement.

"That's wonderful, Jinora," he said, genuinely pleased for her. "You always were a talented writer."

Jinora beamed, basking in the praise. Ikki glanced up briefly, her eyes betraying a flicker of annoyance before she returned to her food.

"How was your day, Ikki?" Tenzin asked, trying to draw her out.

"It was okay," she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper. "Nothing special."

Tenzin nodded, feeling the familiar frustration build yet pushing it down. He wished he knew how to reach her, to bring her out of her shell, but every attempt seemed to push her further away. Sometimes he wondered if his great-grandfather Aang felt the same way with his own kids. Surely not. The Avatar must have hundreds of lives in experience raising daughters. Tenzin wondered, almost in envy.

As they ate, the conversation flowed unevenly, buoyed mostly by Jinora’s relentless chatter. Pema tried to keep the mood light, asking about school projects and upcoming events, but Tenzin couldn't shake the image of Korra in the clinic bed, hooked up to all sorts of machines and treated by Bio-Novas.

"Dad, when is Korra coming home?" Jinora asked suddenly, her innocent question piercing the fragile calm.

Tenzin took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully. "We don't know yet, Jinora. The Bio-Novas are doing everything they can to help her get better."

"But why did she get sick?" Jinora pressed, her curiosity boundless. Such naivety, Tenzin thought. In her world, everyone at the hospital is there for the common cold. And the world is always sunny and the pantry is always filled with candy.

"It's complicated, Jinora," Pema interjected gently. "Sometimes people just get sick, and the bionovas have to figure out why."

Jinora nodded, satisfied for the moment by Pema’s assurance, but Tenzin could see the wheels turning in his wife's head. He glanced at Ikki, who had gone still, her fork moving again from its suspension in mid-air as she listened to the conversation. She didn't ask questions, but her silence spoke volumes.

The rest of the meal passed in a strained quiet, punctuated by the occasional babble from the youngest kids and Jinora’s sporadic comments. Tenzin found himself lost in thought, torn between his duties as a father, a religious figure, and a teacher. The weight of it all bore down on him, making the food taste unsatisfying in his mouth.

After dinner, as the children dispersed to their evening activities, Tenzin lingered at the table, staring at the empty chair beside Ikki. Pema came over, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"She's strong, honey," she said softly. "She'll pull through."

"I hope so," he replied, his voice thick with emotion. "It's just... I can't help feeling like I've failed her."

"You haven't," Pema insisted. "Sometimes, it's out of our hands. Will you go to her?" She asked.

He nodded, taking solace in her words and thinking about his reply, “Yes. I’ll wait until the kids are in bed. An hour or so more won’t change Korra’s health.”

“Alright then. I’ll go put the kids to bed. Come back to me, my love.” Pema said. Stroking his bearded jaw then kissing his cheek before getting up to head upstairs.

There Tenzin sat at the dining table. The remnants of dinner now long cleaned up from its surface. Besides the very faint sounds of Pema and the kids, the soft ticking of the wall clock was the only sound breaking the heavy silence of the room. He stared at the empty chair across from him, where Korra would sit, her annoyingly boisterous attitude and presence now seemed like an empty void. Surprising himself how the chair's vacancy seemed to echo in his heart.

His fingers traced the grain of the wooden table, his mind wandering through a labyrinth of worries and questions. How did it come to this? Korra, the Avatar, who brought so much change into their home, now lay in a hospital bed, fighting in an unknown battle. Tenzin closed his eyes, the weight of his responsibilities pressing down like an invisible hand.

In the quiet of the room, Tenzin's thoughts drifted to the teachings of his ancestors. He recalled the words of the wise monks: In the relentless pursuit of truth, we falter. Clutching at illusions, in a world that's colder. Yet how could he find balance when his heart was torn between his duties as a father, a husband, and a guardian to Korra? How could he seek truth when he himself was lost in the darkness? What would Aang do, he tried to think to himself.

Instead he found his thoughts drifting around his own family. Pema upstairs putting them all to bed. The young boys, with their innocent babbling, unaware of the troubles that shadowed their home. Jinora, with her endless chatter, trying to fill the silence with her vibrant stories. And Ikki, so quiet and withdrawn, her emotions a mystery locked behind her solemn eyes to be teased out in every attempt at a conversation. Each of them needed him, depended on him, and he felt stretched thin, like a rope fraying under too much tension.

Korra had come into their lives like a tempest, full of potential and spirit. She was more than just a pupal; she was like family. Like a piece of Aang lost and then regained. He had watched her grow, witnessed her struggle, celebrated her victories through the many White Lotus tests, and defended her from politics. Yet now he felt powerless, unable to protect her from the cruel hand of fate. Are all Avatars cursed with violence and struggle? He silently wondered. Lost in thought, Tenzin’s fingers idly tracing the intricate grain patterns of the polished wood. His eyes, unfocused and weary, roamed the room, settling eventually on a small, lone piece of food lying on the floor.

A solitary pea, green and slightly shriveled, lay just beneath the edge of the table. He blinked, almost disbelieving. Pema prided herself on maintaining a spotless home; a stray piece of food was practically blasphemy in her eyes. She would be horrified to see it there, a tiny imperfection in her meticulously ordered world.

He imagined her reaction, the furrowed brow, the swift, efficient movement as she bent to pick it up, and the inevitable swipe of the cloth to ensure no residue remained. The thought almost made him smile, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. How trivial it seemed now, this small blemish on the pristine floor. How inconsequential.

Tenzin's gaze lingered on the pea, his mind wandering. Was this how all problems were? Seemingly significant in the moment, demanding our attention and energy, yet ultimately meaningless in the grand tapestry of life? He thought of Korra, lying in a clinic bed, beaten and broken. Compared to that, what was a piece of food on the floor? What were any of their daily worries and conflicts?

He leaned back in his chair, the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him. Life was full of such minor disturbances, each one feeling monumental until the next came along. Were they all, in the end, just like this pea? Insignificant specks in the vast, incomprehensible expanse of existence, he wondered.

His thoughts drifted back again to the teachings of his ancestors. In the labyrinth of consciousness, ideas writhe. A twisted symphony, in the depths we dive. He had always believed in the balance, the interconnectedness of all things, but in this moment, the truth of it felt stark and profound. All their struggles, all their pains and joys, were but fleeting moments in the infinite continuum of life.

The pea remained on the floor, untouched. He could get up, pick it up, restore the order Pema so cherished. But he didn't move. Instead, he let it be, a small act of defiance against the overwhelming tide of inconsequential worries that threatened to drown him.

Upstairs, the murmur of Pema's voice grew softer, a lullaby to their children. Tenzin's heart ached with a deep, indescribable love for his family. They were his anchor, his reason for navigating the storms of life. And Korra, too, was part of that fabric, her struggles and triumphs woven into their collective story.

He thought again of the pea. Perhaps, in the larger scheme, it was indeed meaningless. But every small thing, every minor detail, every moment of care and concern, contributed to the whole. It was a paradox—each piece insignificant on its own, yet essential in the context of the greater pattern.

Tenzin stood, finally, his mind clearer, the weight on his shoulders a little lighter. He bent down, picked up the pea, and placed it gently on the table. It was such a small thing, yet it symbolized so much—their worries, their fears, their love, and their resilience.

With a final glance at the empty chair, Tenzin grabbed his coat and glider. As he stepped out into the cool night air, he sent a silent prayer to the Trinity, seeking guidance and strength before jumping and flying in the direction of the clinic. He pea still vivid in his mind.

***********

Tenzin strode through the sterile white halls of the clinic, the faint scent of antiseptic in the air. His heart pounded with a mix of worry and urgency as he made his way to Korra's room. The lights overhead hummed softly, their brightness making the halls and floor seem blinding white.

As he rounded a corner, Tenzin nearly collided with a tall, well-dressed man. The man's presence was commanding, his Northern Water Tribe attire immaculate, and his eyes sharp with ambition. Tenzin immediately recognized him as Paunn'itt, a politician whose reputation for manipulating situations preceded him.

"Master Tenzin," Paunn'itt said smoothly, inclining his head in a gesture of respect. "I didn't expect to see you here so soon."

"Paunn'itt, I’m wondering why you are here, but I suspect it's for the same reason I am," Tenzin replied, his tone polite but guarded. "I came as quickly as I could. How is the Avatar?"

Paunn'itt smiled, a gesture that didn't quite reach his eyes. "She's stable, thankfully. I wanted to check on her myself. You know how important the Avatar is to the stability."

"Indeed," Tenzin said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "It's commendable that you're concerned for her well-being."

"Of course," Paunn'itt replied, his voice silky. "The Northern Water Tribe has always been invested in the Avatar's welfare. It's crucial that she remains strong, especially in these turbulent times. Clearly the White Lotus hasn’t trained her enough."

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

Tenzin nodded, maintaining his cordial demeanor, though suspicion gnawed at him. "Yes, we all want what’s best for Korra. Her recovery is paramount."

Paunn'itt took a step closer, his gaze penetrating. "Tell me, Tenzin, how do you think we can support her moving forward? Surely, she will need more than just physical healing. Political alliances, perhaps? Strong leadership by her side? If some rogue vigilante could do this to her then surely her skills are underdeveloped, no?"

Tenzin stiffened slightly, the underlying motives in Paunn'itt’s words clear to him. "Korra's path is her own to choose. She has the strength and wisdom to decide what she needs. She also has much training left, I too was no master at sixteen."

"Of course, of course," Paunn'itt said, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "I merely meant to offer our support. The Northern Water Tribe stands ready to assist in any way possible."

"Your concern is noted," Tenzin replied, his patience wearing thin. "But right now, I need to see her."

Paunn'itt's smile tightened, but he nodded. "Very well. Please, give her my regards if she were to wake."

Without another word, Tenzin inclined his head and continued down the hall, his pace brisk. He could feel Paunn'itt's gaze on his back, the weight of unspoken intentions heavy in the air.

Reaching Korra's room, Tenzin paused for a moment to compose himself before pushing the door open.

Inside, the room was quiet, the soft beeping of medical instruments the only sound. Korra lay on the bed, her face pale but peaceful. Tenzin’s heart ached at the sight of her injuries, her face brushed and swollen. On arm cast in a sling. He noticed that both eyelids swelled her eyes shut and what looked to be a bandaged cut over her forehead was wrapped in white gauze. But relief washed over him as he saw her chest rise and fall steadily.

“Korra,” he whispered, stepping closer and taking her hand gently. “I’m here.” Noting she was deeply asleep.

Tenzin sat beside Korra's bed, his hand gently clasping hers. The rhythmic beeping of the medical monitors and the soft hum of the air conditioning were the only sounds in the room. Korra's face was pale, her breathing steady but shallow. Tenzin's heart ached as he watched over her, his thoughts a whirlwind of worry and gratitude.

Eventually, a movement at the door caught his attention. He looked up to see a police officer standing there, one arm in a sling. Recognizing the familiar uniform, Tenzin rose and quietly stepped out of the room, careful not to disturb Korra.

"Officer Lee," Tenzin greeted, noting the man's weary expression. "How are you holding up?"

Lee offered a tired smile. "I've been better, Master Tenzin. But I'm still standing, which is more than some of us can say."

Tenzin's expression grew serious. "What happened out there? I heard something about a rogue metalbender."

Lee nodded grimly. "We were ambushed in the tunnels. Chief Lin led the squad, as you might know, and we were tracking a powerful metalbender. Turns out, he was waiting for us. The fight was brutal. We barely escaped with our lives."

Tenzin's grip tightened on the doorframe. "And Korra? How did she get involved?"

"She followed us," Lee explained. "Don’t know how but she did. All the way deep into the Tunnels. Rash and reckless, maybe, but she saved us. The metalbender was about to finish us off when she arrived. Whatever Avatar stuff she did she gave us the opportunity to flee."

Tenzin's eyes softened as he glanced back at Korra's still form through the window. "That sounds like her. Always charging ahead."

Lee took a deep breath. "One of my partners, Officer Yu, is still in critical condition. The healers are doing everything they can, but... it's touch and go. I know what she did was profoundly stupid. I realize it may not even be Avatar material, but I wanted you to know that my squad likely owes her our lives."

Tenzin felt a surge of conflicting emotions—pride in Korra's bravery, anger at the risk she took, and deep sorrow for the injured officers. "I am so sorry about Officer Yu. I hope he pulls through."

"We all do," Lee replied, his voice heavy. "Chief Lin is already strategizing our next move, even when bedridden, but it's hard to focus with so many of our own hurt."

“By the way Lee, what about Naga?” Seeing Lee’s confused face he continued, “Korra's companion? Did you happen to see her?" Tenzin asked, hoping for some reassurance.

Lee's brow furrowed in confusion. "Naga... I'm not sure I recall seeing anyone else with the Avatar."

Tenzin's heart sank a little. "She's very distinctive. White fur, large stature, incredibly loyal and protective of Korra. Like how Appa was to Avatar Aang."

Recognition dawned slowly on Lee's face, followed by a look of deep sorrow. "Oh, that... yes, I remember now. The polar bear dog."

Tenzin felt a lump forming in his throat. "Yes, the polar bear dog. What happened to her, Lee?"

Lee hesitated, clearly pained by the memory. "Master Tenzin, I don't think Korra would want to relive this. It was... it was brutal to say the least."

"I need to know, Lee. Understanding what happened could be crucial to helping Korra recover," Tenzin urged.

Lee took a deep breath, his eyes reflecting the encounter. "The metalbender we faced was unlike anything I've ever seen. He could manipulate metal like a liquid, forming a massive suit around himself. It gave him incredible strength and resilience. We threw everything we had at him, but it was like nothing could put him down."

Tenzin's face hardened as he listened, dreading what was coming next.

"Naga fought bravely," Lee continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "She attacked him with her all, literally leaping upon his back, but the metalbender... he was too powerful. He just stood up, threw the animal off and grabbed her. Before any of us could react, he... it ripped her head off."

Tenzin closed his eyes, feeling a wave of nausea and sorrow wash over him. He could scarcely imagine the trauma Korra must have experienced witnessing such a thing.

“Not cleanly either. We all heard the animals whimpers and cries as it crushed her face. It stopped even Joo-Ni, out best fighter, for a moment. Then it just tore the animals head off.”

Tenzin remained silent, knowing he best listen to the man recount if he wanted to understand Korra’s pain better.

“Blood and bit of flesh was everywhere. I swear the smell of iron filled the cavern. After that I think Korra was in shock," Lee said, his voice trembling.

"She screamed, and then her eyes... they lit up with an eerie glow. Lin said she entered the Avatar State. I've never seen anything like it. She fought with a fury that was almost... otherworldly. A storm of elements. But the damage had been done. Naga was gone, Yu was gutted, and so we took that chance to flee."

Tenzin opened his eyes, a deep resolve settling within him. "Thank you, Officer Lee. This... this explains a lot. Naga's loss is a wound that will cut deeply into Korra's spirit."

Lee nodded, clearly affected by the memory. "I'm sorry, Master Tenzin. I wish there had been another way."

Tenzin placed a reassuring hand on Lee's good shoulder. "You did what you could, Lee. Thank you for telling me. Now I must focus on helping Korra heal, both physically and emotionally."

With a final nod, Lee stepped back, leaving Tenzin alone with his thoughts. He turned back to Korra, his heart heavy with the weight of the news. Sitting beside her once more, he took her hand gently in his. He didn’t know how much time passed but eventually, his head dipped and sleep overtook him.

***********

Sometime later, Tenzin awoke, to his hand being squeezed. Slowly blinking awake he lifted his head to see Korra shifting and murmuring.

“Please, no…” he heard her mutter.

Gently regripping her hand with both of his he stood up from his chair, ignoring the backache developed from his impromptu nap.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Tenzin softly spoke. Trying to gently get Korra’s attention as he knew with both eyes shut so badly she likely would have trouble seeing him at her side. “I’m right here. Feel my hand, Korra. I’m right here with you.”

“Tenzin?” she spoke back softly. So timid. So heartbroken. Tenzin realized. He could hear the difference from her usual voice.

“Tenzin” Korra repeated, her voice starting to quaver. “Are you there? Tenzin, I can't see you.” Her swollen eyes starting to leak, the cause of her short-term blindness.

“Tenzin!” She spoke with urgency and now starting to shift uncomfortably, her hands and arms, including the one broken, starting to move.

“Shhh, I’m right here Korra,” Tenzin spoke. Tightly grasping her good arm with his hand. His other snaking underneath her neck. Pulling her to him in a half embrace. “Don’t you worry. I’m right here with you.” He repeated. He could feel her tears wetting his shirt. Her quiet sobs and shakes slightly moving the bed.

“You had an accident. Took a few blows to the head. Both your eyes are swollen, baby girl.” He said while gently rocking her back and forth. “That is why you can’t see me. But I’m here. Right here with you.”

As he stroked her hair, trying to console her sobs, Korra eventually spoke, "Why...why did this happen?" she choked out, her voice a fragile whisper. "I trained so hard...I did everything right...for nothing."

“Hush, now, and none of that,” Tenzin replied. “Sometimes life throws punches at you, you just cannot dodge.”

“But I killed her. I did. My stupid decisions, my stupid ideas.” Korra sobbed. She means Naga, Tenzin realized. “I’m a killer and a failure. A disappointment.”

As Korra cried in his arms his thoughts flickering through what. What could even console her? Tenzin thought. This is not the time to lecture. She would only hate herself more.

Looking at a spot of the white wall Tenzin finally spoke, “Did I ever tell you how I wished I was a firebender?” and cutting off Korra’s sobs.

Reminiscing, “When I was quite young I got into my head that being a firebender was the coolest thing. In fact, most of my friends at that age were also enamored with firebending. Their dark armor, opulent lifestyles, and edgy demeanor. We would often daydream about being a rich Vernis once school was out. And what young boy wouldn’t find them fascinating? What young girl didn’t find their roguish behavior so attractive?

Most of the kids my age grew out of it. I however never did. My mom always said there was a part of me that would forever be a child. And they were right. It got to the point where every night I would pray to Ravius, begging him to bless me with the gift of fire. When I was eleven, my parents caught one of my prayers, whipped me red. Wasn’t until I was thirteen that I figured out why. You see, for all the talk of peace, and prosperity, my parents still held quite a grudge against firebenders. They never could forgive them for starting the war. To them, I was supposed to be an airbender, righteous and dedicated to our teachings; not some degrading firebender.” Tenzin explained, looking down from the wall and focusing on Korra’s face. Noticing she was paying rapt attention.

“So I hid it. I said the teachings, practiced my airbending, ate no meat, lay with no women and did exactly what I was told. My entire childhood I did what I was told. I would wake up, eat, and listen to old men who said they knew my future better than I ever could. And I hated almost every second of it. But all I could do was rage in silence. I had the blood of Avatar Aang, airbending was in my very bones, and I could never be a firebender.

Years later, when I was in the Andas Isles to study the Andarnir ways there was one day that I’ll never forget. You see, the Andarnir tribes were deep inland, and very wary of outsiders. Still are today I hear. Yet we tried and tried to convert the people but were met with stiff rebuke after stiff rebuke. One day, when I was flying to the closest river I spotted a group of young kids. They were playing on an empty field. They couldn’t be older than six. Young kids, full of energy, playing in the dirt and rocks.

Turns out they were playing in a minefield. The Fire Nation battalion just left them there. I noticed one of the kids was playing with what looked like a small metal cube. I don’t know how he was able to handle and show it to each of his friends without setting it off, but I could hear them giggle and laugh. I think one of the kids dared the boy to eat it. When the kid put the mine in his mouth that is when it detonated. I’ll never forget as the kid's bottom jaw blew right off. You see mines are engineered to explode in a singular direction, up. This kid must’ve flipped it which saved his life.

I remember how I had to ball up my cloak and stuff it where his jaw used to be, hoping to stave off the bleeding as I flew him to our camp. I had to press my cloak so hard my own arm was sore for days yet it still bled through and ruined my shirt. I told the rest of the kids to get into the river and swim downstream before making their way back to their tribe. Unless they too wanted to share the boy's fate."

"What happened to him?" Korra asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“The boy lived.” Tenzin replied. “We were able to stop the bleeding. Took a week and then another for us to heal the wound enough for the kid to be fit for travel. It was maybe a month later we found his body strung up. The Andarnir tribe thought we were trying to curse them with our ‘modern medicine’. I think a part of me died that day; likely when we cut his body down. There are times, when I sit and recollect, about my life, my choices, and most often that young boy. I see his face, the pain in his eyes, the missing bottom jaw, the shredded strips of tongue, the whole bloody mess. Yet in all of that I never did know his name. Part of me rationalizes, now, it doesn’t matter.” Wrapping up his long-winded story Tenzin inhaled deeply, before continuing.

“What I want you to know, Korra, is that life with throw hooks, and jabs, and all sorts of unknowns in your path. Sometimes you can’t do anything to avoid them. It’s as if life just wants to test how well you can take hits. Korra, you had no idea this would lead to Naga’s death. No idea how terrible following the police squad would turn out. Even I could see myself agreeing for you to shadow a squad for more hands-on experience. This could’ve happened under several different circumstances, but no one could've foreseen how bad this would've become. How strong the metalbender under the city truly was. No, what is important is that you survived. Not won. Survived.” Tenzin finished. Korra was silent, likely processing my long monologue, thought Tenzin.

“Now, let me get you some water. I’m sure you’re thirsty.” Tenzin said before getting up.

“Do you still wish to be a firebender? Korra asked Tenzin. One of her eyes just barely opened. Following his form as he stood.

“No,” Tenzin answered, “that wish died with the boy.”

***********

Tenzin walked down yet another hallway in the clinic, passing rooms, curtains, and closed doors. His footsteps echoed on the smooth white floor.

“Meow,” came a sound from below. He looked down to see a pigeon-cat slinking along.

Tenzin let out a small chuckle, a vague smile touching his lips. Lin and her pigeon-cats. You find her, you'll find at least one. With this thought, he aimed for the next door, his quarry now in sight.

As he approached, Lin’s voice called out, “Close the door when you walk in, Tenzin!” He obliged, the door creaking shut behind him. Turning, he saw her sitting up in bed. She looked better than Korra.

“How did you know I was here?” he asked.

“Who else would be walking around in those ridiculous clopping shoes?” Lin replied.

Tenzin glanced down at his feet. True, his shoes were loud on the clinic floor, but so were any dress shoes. How she could identify him after all these years remained a mystery. “You heard them?” he asked.

“What was that?” she teased, a familiar glint in her eye.

“You–” Tenzin began, then realized she was just pulling his leg, just like when they were kids. Typical Lin.

“You’re having fun with me.”

“What gave you that idea?” She smiled. “I say it was the pigeon-cat that heard you.”

“Then how did you know it was my shoes specifically?” Tenzin countered.

“I saw them,” Lin said with a slight smirk. “When you walked in.”

Tenzin sighed deeply, her humor as odd and familiar as ever. “How many of those things do you have now?” he asked, nodding towards the pigeon-cat.

“Oh, I don’t know. Several. Depends on what you mean by ‘have’. Some are strays that come and go as they please. Others are half-wild and hunker down somewhere.”

A silence settled between them. Tenzin took in the sight of Lin, thinking about how long it had been. “How are you, Lin?”

“Oh, same as always,” Lin replied quickly. “I have to say, though, you’re looking older.”

“I am older,” he retorted, sending the conversation into another pause.

Breaking the silence, Lin said, “You may not know, but your wife still writes me. Keeps me updated on your family. I was surprised to hear you left the council. That doesn’t seem like you. Why did you do that?”

Sighing, but not answering, Tenzin moved towards the window. A table held a box of what appeared to be donuts.

“Want one?” he asked, lifting the lid.

“Appreciate it,” Lin confirmed.

Opening the box fully, Tenzin saw that the pastries were partially eaten, most likely by one of the pigeon-cats. He decided to stay hungry. “How fresh are these donuts?”

“I generally share my sweets with my pigeon-cats. Sometimes I save any leftovers. Drives Wan up the wall,” Lin chuckled.

Ignoring the box and looking out the window, Tenzin asked, “What was that last case you were working on? The one where you punctured your lung and broke half your ribs during the arrest?”

“Hm, Sikeava. Yeah, Sikeava.”

“When you were done, wasn’t he set to be released?” Tenzin inquired.

“Oh, I don’t know. That’s not really my job.”

“I’m surprised to hear you say that,” said Tenzin, adjusting his thoughts to the different Lin he remembered.

“Well, all the time you spend trying to get back what’s been taken from you, you’ll just find more slipping away. Sometimes you have to try to put a plug on it.” Changing the subject, Lin asked, “Pema tells me you’re quitting. How come?”

Sighing in resignation, Tenzin said, “I don’t know… I feel overmatched. You know I was never a good politician. That game was never really me.”

Silence bridged the two. Lin thought through Tenzin’s response, while Tenzin reflected on the council, more like a nest of vipers.

“I always thought the Trinity would come into my life somehow, maybe show they cared. They didn’t,” Tenzin said, bitterness creeping into his tone. “And I don’t blame them. If I were them, I’d have the same opinion of me as I do of myself.”

“Oh, you don’t know what they think,” Lin said, waving away his doubts but staring deeply at him. “Did I ever tell you how last winter I sent Grandpa’s old brick and badge to the academy museum? Did your dad ever tell you how Grandpa Syung got his medal?”

“Something about a reward for his long tenure,” Tenzin guessed, his memory of her grandfather foggy.

“Oh no, it was well after he retired. He was struck down in his retirement home in Chima Valley, out by the mountains. Struck down by a couple of non-benders. Seven or eight Equalists had come up there. Something about wanting equality. Didn’t matter—they were just looking to hurt whoever.”

Lin swallowed and continued, “Grandpa Syung went back into the house to get his armor. They were a step ahead of him. Put a number of arrows in his back. Shot him full of holes right in his doorway. Grandma Yee came out to try and stop the bleeding. Grandpa Syung kept trying to get to his armor, but they just sat there on their ostriches, watching him die. One of them said something, and eventually they left. Grandpa Syung lay there with a punctured lung and two arrows in his gut. His armor sat on the wall, clean and untouched. That was the end of that.”

Quietly, staring into Lin’s eyes as if to see her painful memories, Tenzin asked, “When did he die?”

“Oh, somewhere north of twenty years ago,” she responded.

“No, I mean, did he die right away or later that night?” Tenzin inquired softly. Part of him felt bad for barely remembering Lin's family, but another part realized it was a lifetime ago. He did remember she looked up to her grandpa Syung, rumored to be as strong as an ox and the first commissioner to retire at an early age.

“I believe it was that night. Grandma Yee buried him the next morning, right there along the tough clay riverside,” Lin said, meeting Tenzin’s gaze.

“What you and Korra face is nothing new. This world is harsh, especially to benders. No machine or empire or philosophical argument will change that. You can’t stop what's coming, Tenzin. The world is not waiting for you. If you think it is, it’ll be sure to teach you otherwise.”