legend of korra: look back but don't stare
Characters/pairings: Asami, Bolin, Korra, Mako. Makorra/Masami.
Summary: Asami isn't sure where she fits in really.
On Friday, Korra insists on practicing. Asami waits and watches in the sidelines, digging her feet into the dirt and scuffing up the toes of her boots, cheering along with Jinora, Ikki and Meelo; the avatar’s own personal fan club, excited and loud enough to make her question her own want for kids someday, far far far away someday, whipping up enough cool air around her that she wishes she’d brought out her jacket for extra warmth and padding.
Bolin goes down again for the third time after about a half hour, leg twisting out from under him as he reluctantly calls it a day and hobbles off to the sidelines to join them, sweating profusely but still smiling. Ikki and Meelo finally beginning to tire and now sort of listlessly shuffling from side to side as Jinora huddles them together, the two ready to drop any second.
“Give up?” Asami asks, moving over to where Bolin’s dropped back on his haunches, staring at the ground and breathing in thick gulps of air like he can’t get enough of it.
He waves a hand up at her, waiting for his lungs to catch up with his breath, and then looks up at her, grinning. “Spirits, yes! Have you seen those two? I don’t know how they’re still standing.” He falls back, stretching out his arms until the bones shift and crack and he sighs, relaxed again and seemingly satisfied.
Asami turns around and looks back as Korra throws out a burst of fire with her fist, Mako twisting an inch so the barest of flames only lick at his arm and the heat rolls clear off of him, kicking back with a line of flame that Korra easily avoids with a leap, effortlessly jumping right over as she twists around in preparation for another attack before Mako’s ready to defend against her.
“They are pretty evenly matched,” she says, and doesn’t think about the way Mako had curled his fingers protectively around Korra that night. She doesn’t.
There’s a beat of silence, a few seconds that are stretched out long enough that they start to become close to awkward territory, the only noises, the far off sounds of Korra and Mako’s feet slapping the ground, ringing out across their makeshift arena.
“Ah, they’re both far too stubborn,” Bolin says, breaking the silence and shaking his head, “This isn’t quite pro-bending training and us brothers,” He points out at Mako and then back at himself, “Just aren’t used to it. Just wait until she whips some water at him, left leg, Mako will be out flat in a second.”
Asami turns back to look and notices the way Mako’s trying to keep to his right side, favouring the lightest of touches to his left and making his waiting, defensive stance seem a little awkward, a little off.
Korra grins, eyes flat and moves forward.
“Predictable,” Bolin goes as Mako falls back and the air kids scream and chant out, “Korra, Korra, Korra,” a repeating echo, jumping up and down again as Korra helps Mako to haul himself up and to his feet, hand curled lightly around Mako’s elbow as the two of them make their way over.
Not that Asami’s noticing. She isn’t.
-
The night feels muggy and warm and even though she’s wearing a thin nightdress, windows open the slightest crack to let in the winter air, Asami still feels too hot and confined, the silk fabric clinging to her like a second skin, too tight all over.
There’s a knock and it’s late and Asami walks over to slide the door open.
“Mako?”
“Expecting someone else?” He says, tucking his chin against his shoulder and smiling.
“Pema, probably,” she goes.
“Extra blankets,” they both say at the time, laughing, and after a few beats Asami sighs, continuing, “She’s just being motherly, it’s nice really.” Curling her arms around her waist and suddenly feeling a little bit self conscious at the way that she’s dressed in front of him.
Mako seems to pick up on her hesitancy, taking a step back and shuffling on his feet, awkward and waiting for Asami to say he’s welcome inside, like he always has been, no questions. She remembers back to that first night, the way she’d wanted Mako to stay with her, desperately needed him by her side, and now, well now she’s just not sure.
“It’s late,” she says instead, “You probably shouldn’t be here.” She doesn’t want to offend any acolyte rules, not after everyone’s been nice enough to let her in and take care of her and everything.
She feels different now too, confused and fidgety and she doesn’t know quite how to explain it.
“Right,” he says and continues to stand there looking a little lost. “Anyway,” he clears his throat, “It looks like you’re all ready for bed, so…” He moves his hand in a wave and Asami steps forward, capturing hold of it, intertwining their fingers so he can’t let go of her.
He moves forward instinctively, free hand wrapping around the back of her neck, leaning in for a kiss and in that moment Asami can’t help but think of Korra, moving awkwardly at the last second so his lips land at the corner of her mouth, Mako back stepping as his eyes widen, his hand slipping too easily from her hold as he wishes her a quiet goodnight.
-
“Is everything okay between you and Mako?” Bolin says, uncharacteristically moving his food around the plate instead of eating it this morning. They’re both late to the table, everyone else already having woken a good hour or so earlier, eaten and then on to the day’s activities: training, school, council business, like the world doesn’t realise Asami’s life has been upturned and broken up into all these nonsensical pieces.
“I think so,” Asami answers, brushing her hair away from her face and pushing her food away, uneaten. “Did he say something?”
“Mako? No,” Bolin rolls his eyes, telling a lifetime of his brother’s quirks and knowing his way around them. “He tends to brood more than anything and last night there was definitely brooding.”
“Where is he?”
“Training again with Korra.”
Asami nods, tapping her nails against the wooden table, puffing out air through her cheeks. She shouldn’t let this get to her. She shouldn’t.
“I don’t know what to say to him,” she admits and it’s hard to get the words out, even if they’ve been repeating in her head over and over, but now they’re out there, spoken and Bolin’s strange silence isn’t helping one bit. His eyes big and round as he looks at her. She’s never had friends, not close ones, being homeschooled and coddled and finding that her self defence teachers weren’t around for idle chit chat and gossip. It makes her feel self conscious and awkward, like she’s unsure how to fit into her skin around all these new people.
“Korra’s going through something, I completely understand that.” She continues, biting the corner of her lip and not saying that she feels jealous, that even if there is nothing going on between them, that when she sees them together at times it feels like there’s this raging monster trying to claw its way out of her chest.
Bolin wraps his hand around a fist she doesn’t even remember making. “Sounds to me like you need to hit something,” he says, “how about we do our own training session?”
“Okay,” her lips round around the word, hesitantly smiling.
“So long as you promise to leave the electrifying glove in your closet.”
“Promise,” she retorts, crossing her fingers over her heart and grinning.
-
“Now you’ve had some experience, right?” Bolin asks, cracking the bones of his knuckles and bouncing around on the balls of his feet like one of the more excitable lemurs. “I saw you take out that equalist,” he continues, carefully not mentioning her dad, carefully avoiding that whole issue. “I’ve gotta say I was impressed.”
“Right,” she says, “The most expensive teacher’s money could buy, but no benders. I guess the lesson would be that I’d take them out before they did anything fancy, or at least avoid an attack I saw coming.” She waggles her fingers, imitating no bending move that either of them have ever witnessed.
“But if I-” and he stamps out with his foot, quick and sly, the ground beneath her feet rumbling and caving out, almost losing her balance as she moves, a few quick footfalls as she avoids the slide of earth, deftly landing far enough away from it, her heart beat quickening rabbit fast. “Good work,” Bolin claps, “with that fancy footwork you could be an earthbender.”
“Just the problem of not being able to move the earth.” She deadpans, feeling the energy and adrenalin run through every inch of her body. “Not my kind of fighting.”
“Then show me,” Bolin taunts, waving his hand and signalling her to go at him with everything that she’s capable of. Something, she thinks, he might just regret in the long run.
Which is what happens, half an hour, forty minutes later when Bolin rolls and lands flat on his back, arms crossed as if to ward away a spirit monster, crying, “No more, I give in. Asami Sato is truly the greatest and most best fighter in the world, ever.”
Asami grins, letting herself fall flat next to the floor after him and curling her legs up beneath her. “Thank the spirits,” she goes, sweat curling down the back of her neck, her muscles aching, “You really know how to put up a fight yourself, where did you learn some of those moves? Bending?”
“Nah.” Bolin sniffs, “Life,” he says sagely, “has been my teacher.” And there’s silence for a beat of a second before they both crack up laughing.
Asami’s sore, all over, wincing and aching in places she didn’t even realise she could hurt, but it’s a good kind of ache, one that makes her feel strangely comfortable and relaxed more than anything. That bitter taste she’s had in her mouth since she found out about the kiss and became unsure of everything she felt about Mako, disappearing.
“Thanks, Bo.” She goes, lying out flat beside him so that they’re both staring up at the sky and the grey clouds that are beginning to roll in past the mountains. Promising what looks likely to be a heavy storm later, maybe even a little snow. Bolin shifts beside her, turning his head to meet her, face on as she says: “I really needed that.”
“Anytime.” He answers. “Maybe next time bring the glove though, it might hurt a little less in the morning.” She punches his shoulder lightly and Bolin rolls, “Ow, ow, ow, ow!”
-
“So what did you do today?” Mako asks, his feet swinging off the cliff edge in a way that makes Asami feel nervous, even if he is safely and securely planted on the plateau, it’s a long way down and the water swirls heavy with the oncoming storm below them.
“I worked with Bolin,” she says. “Your brother has a really good right hook.”
“Bolin?” Mako asks, eyes widening and eyebrows furrowing down. “He didn’t hurt you?” He gives her a quick once over, looking for any sign of cuts or bruises.
“I’m a little sore,” she admits, which in itself is a bit of a lie because wow, does she ache all over. “But I think I gave him a run for his money. I didn’t say I didn’t have a more impressive right hook, after all.” She grins, quick as a flash and Mako sniffs, smiling.
“So,” she broaches, “How’s Korra doing?” She thinks back to the last fight she saw between them, an energy there that was strong, like the two of them were trying to punish each other, kicks and thrusts becoming stronger, deliberately out to hurt the other. She thinks to after when Korra had shook and Mako’s hand on her shoulder had made her still, calmer, brought her back.
He shifts, moving his scarf up to cover his mouth so his words come out muffled, “Okay, I guess. This Amon business. It’s a big mess really, isn’t it? Sorry,” he says, looking down and out at the water, at the construction work that goes on night and day at the arena, the sounds echoing out as a dim and constant noise here across the water.
“It’s…” She can’t say okay, because it isn’t, “A mess.” She concludes.
Mako just stares out at the water.
-
On Sunday night Asami can’t sleep and finally gives up, throwing on a wraparound cloak and heading out into the flurries of snow that whirl around the island like a picturesque snow globe. She doesn’t think about her dad’s face when he gave her the cloak, how it had whipped around her legs when he’d asked her to spin around for him, the soft smile that had taken over his face when she’d said she looked beautiful, just like her Mother.
She doesn’t think about how he’s probably hard at work right now, not even aware of the snow falling. The way he’d get so involved and consumed in his work that she’d have to remind him to take a break some nights, to eat and drink something. She doesn’t wonder whose doing that now, whilst he’s busy building machines and electrifying gloves in order to hurt her friends with. She doesn’t.
There are the far off sounds of someone fighting and Asami can see the puffs of steam rising into the cool air, the sharp tines of ice shards breaking as they hit the ground, splintering. She sees Korra after a moment too, beads of sweat dotting her skin and forehead, her arm coming up to wipe the majority of it away. She’s breathing heavily, constant movement as she whirls back and forth, pumping out with her fists and fire and bending the snow around her to make whips of water that strike the ground and scatter the gathering of snow that has managed to stick to the rocks and gravel.
“Korra!” She calls, wincing and ducking as a wave of water narrowly misses her head.
“Asami?” Korra squints, hands falling to her thighs as she breaths fast, in and out, then jogs over. “Did I hit you, spirits, I was just-”
“I’m fine,” Asami places a hand on top of Korra’s shoulder, throwing her hair back out of her face. “Isn’t it a little late to be training?” Up first thing and then out again when she’s supposed to be sleeping, Asami wonders if she’s had any rest at all since the whole mess with Tarrlok happening.
“Isn’t it a little late to be out on a walk?”
“A fair point,” Asami shudders, the cold hitting her now she’s still, “I couldn’t sleep and apparently you can’t either.”
“I need to be prepared,” Korra says, breath blowing out of her cheeks and rising into the air between them.
“I can help,” Asami ventures and Korra’s eyebrow rises and Asami feels something bubble inside of her. Before she can give herself time to think, before her brain can go this is Korra, she steps forward hitting out with her fist, the skin of her knuckles narrowly grazing Korra’s cheek.
“Whoa!” Korra back flips out of the way, feet landing one in front of the other, “Hey,” she shouts, teeth showing as she grins almost feral like, moving to the side as Asami pushes forward, giving Korra no time to say this probably isn’t a good idea. She twists around and kicks out, her foot planting itself firmly in Korra’s waist, the force throwing her down to the ground as she rolls and narrowly avoids the follow up of Asami’s heel which instead hits nothing but dirt.
Korra pushes herself back up, elbow coming up to wipe the grit off her cheek before she’s running straight for Asami, fingers hitting the ground as she swipes out with her leg, catching the back of Asami’s legs and bringing her down hard, head smacking the ground with a thwack that makes her vision see double Korra’s grinning down at her cat like for a moment.
“Here,” Korra says, bending down to offer her a hand up that Asami takes, twisting until the momentum pulls her up and Korra down, her leg finishing the attack and taking Korra’s legs out from under her.
“I should have expected that,” Korra says, letting her head hit back against the ground as Asami fights to get her breath back under control, her hands and legs feeling like they’re shaking. Korra’s a friend and the avatar and no matter what might be going on to make Asami feel otherwise, deep down she knows Korra would never intentionally hurt her.
“Sorry,” she says, sliding down to meet the ground, her knee just barely grazing Korra’s hip.
“No, I probably deserved that.” She sighs, “I just don’t know what I’m doing.” She pushes herself up, pulling her legs into her chest and curling her arms around them, resting her chin on her knees and looking at Asami. “I feel so lost right now,” she admits, the words so quiet Asami has to lean in to hear them, “so angry.”
“And tired,” Asami goes, not waiting a beat as Korra blinks back at her, “I’m so tired all the time and I feel like all I’m doing is waiting.”
“Right,” Korra says, leaning her head to the side and smiling.
-
There’s a bruise on the back of her shoulder, a blue and purple smudge that hurts to the touch and an ache to her legs that makes her feel heavy. She grins when she sees it, craning her neck and prodding with her fingers, moving her hair away from her back to see where it’s already beginning to yellow away at the edges.
Korra smiles at her at breakfast and she looks a little better, like she got a good night’s rest.
“Thanks for last night,” she says, cramming far too much bread one person can eat into her mouth.
“You’re welcome,” Asami replies, ignoring the looks Bolin and Mako throw the two over their heads.
-
It’s late and when the door knocks this time it’s Bolin, sheepish smile and hands in his pockets as Asami opens the door further and invites him in.
“You know,” he says, “Mako’s never been good with his feelings.”
Asami bites her bottom lip, taking a seat on the bed that Bolin’s already made claim to, his bare feet pushing against the ground, toes curling back against the wood. “And I guess in some ways I’ve always been the opposite. Mako hides everything and I blurt it right out, and most of the time it’s not exactly a good thing, you know, but sometimes it is, and if I keep going on long enough Mako usually asks me to stop.” He looks pointedly at Asami, who takes her cue and presses a hand to his shoulder, forcing him to take in a deep breath. “My point is,” he continues, “I know how to handle Mako, when he needs to talk and when he just wants to brood in gloomy silence for an hour, and I guess our friendship is kinda new still, but I still think I know when something’s wrong, or not right and I guess what I’m trying to say is that if you want to talk I’ll listen, and if you don’t, well, I can still be right here for when you do.” He pauses for breath and then looks up at her, freely scratching at the back of his neck. “Or if you want I can go, I mean, girl’s quarters and all, and I’m not a girl so…”
Asami leans her neck back, eyes closing automatically and finding her hand curl next to Bolin’s own. She can feel the heat coming off of him in waves, and its chilly tonight, the snow that was lazily drifting earlier beginning to come down with a swift and furious force.
“I’d like it if you stayed.” She whispers, stretching out along the bed and patting the empty space beside her. Thinking that for one night it would be nice not to feel so alone.
She sleeps heavy for the first time since she arrived, joints cracking and popping as she stretches out wide like a cat in the morning, finding the space next to her empty and cool, Bolin having left already so as not to get either of them in trouble with an acolyte, or worse Tenzin or Pema. She doesn’t like the idea of them thinking she’s disobeying their trust, this strange and newfound family.
And it might not last, she thinks, and it might change a little over the next few weeks, for certain, but she doesn’t feel so alone anymore, like she has to face whatever’s coming with just her two fists and her feet only.
Now she has this new family.
Summary: Asami isn't sure where she fits in really.
On Friday, Korra insists on practicing. Asami waits and watches in the sidelines, digging her feet into the dirt and scuffing up the toes of her boots, cheering along with Jinora, Ikki and Meelo; the avatar’s own personal fan club, excited and loud enough to make her question her own want for kids someday, far far far away someday, whipping up enough cool air around her that she wishes she’d brought out her jacket for extra warmth and padding.
Bolin goes down again for the third time after about a half hour, leg twisting out from under him as he reluctantly calls it a day and hobbles off to the sidelines to join them, sweating profusely but still smiling. Ikki and Meelo finally beginning to tire and now sort of listlessly shuffling from side to side as Jinora huddles them together, the two ready to drop any second.
“Give up?” Asami asks, moving over to where Bolin’s dropped back on his haunches, staring at the ground and breathing in thick gulps of air like he can’t get enough of it.
He waves a hand up at her, waiting for his lungs to catch up with his breath, and then looks up at her, grinning. “Spirits, yes! Have you seen those two? I don’t know how they’re still standing.” He falls back, stretching out his arms until the bones shift and crack and he sighs, relaxed again and seemingly satisfied.
Asami turns around and looks back as Korra throws out a burst of fire with her fist, Mako twisting an inch so the barest of flames only lick at his arm and the heat rolls clear off of him, kicking back with a line of flame that Korra easily avoids with a leap, effortlessly jumping right over as she twists around in preparation for another attack before Mako’s ready to defend against her.
“They are pretty evenly matched,” she says, and doesn’t think about the way Mako had curled his fingers protectively around Korra that night. She doesn’t.
There’s a beat of silence, a few seconds that are stretched out long enough that they start to become close to awkward territory, the only noises, the far off sounds of Korra and Mako’s feet slapping the ground, ringing out across their makeshift arena.
“Ah, they’re both far too stubborn,” Bolin says, breaking the silence and shaking his head, “This isn’t quite pro-bending training and us brothers,” He points out at Mako and then back at himself, “Just aren’t used to it. Just wait until she whips some water at him, left leg, Mako will be out flat in a second.”
Asami turns back to look and notices the way Mako’s trying to keep to his right side, favouring the lightest of touches to his left and making his waiting, defensive stance seem a little awkward, a little off.
Korra grins, eyes flat and moves forward.
“Predictable,” Bolin goes as Mako falls back and the air kids scream and chant out, “Korra, Korra, Korra,” a repeating echo, jumping up and down again as Korra helps Mako to haul himself up and to his feet, hand curled lightly around Mako’s elbow as the two of them make their way over.
Not that Asami’s noticing. She isn’t.
-
The night feels muggy and warm and even though she’s wearing a thin nightdress, windows open the slightest crack to let in the winter air, Asami still feels too hot and confined, the silk fabric clinging to her like a second skin, too tight all over.
There’s a knock and it’s late and Asami walks over to slide the door open.
“Mako?”
“Expecting someone else?” He says, tucking his chin against his shoulder and smiling.
“Pema, probably,” she goes.
“Extra blankets,” they both say at the time, laughing, and after a few beats Asami sighs, continuing, “She’s just being motherly, it’s nice really.” Curling her arms around her waist and suddenly feeling a little bit self conscious at the way that she’s dressed in front of him.
Mako seems to pick up on her hesitancy, taking a step back and shuffling on his feet, awkward and waiting for Asami to say he’s welcome inside, like he always has been, no questions. She remembers back to that first night, the way she’d wanted Mako to stay with her, desperately needed him by her side, and now, well now she’s just not sure.
“It’s late,” she says instead, “You probably shouldn’t be here.” She doesn’t want to offend any acolyte rules, not after everyone’s been nice enough to let her in and take care of her and everything.
She feels different now too, confused and fidgety and she doesn’t know quite how to explain it.
“Right,” he says and continues to stand there looking a little lost. “Anyway,” he clears his throat, “It looks like you’re all ready for bed, so…” He moves his hand in a wave and Asami steps forward, capturing hold of it, intertwining their fingers so he can’t let go of her.
He moves forward instinctively, free hand wrapping around the back of her neck, leaning in for a kiss and in that moment Asami can’t help but think of Korra, moving awkwardly at the last second so his lips land at the corner of her mouth, Mako back stepping as his eyes widen, his hand slipping too easily from her hold as he wishes her a quiet goodnight.
-
“Is everything okay between you and Mako?” Bolin says, uncharacteristically moving his food around the plate instead of eating it this morning. They’re both late to the table, everyone else already having woken a good hour or so earlier, eaten and then on to the day’s activities: training, school, council business, like the world doesn’t realise Asami’s life has been upturned and broken up into all these nonsensical pieces.
“I think so,” Asami answers, brushing her hair away from her face and pushing her food away, uneaten. “Did he say something?”
“Mako? No,” Bolin rolls his eyes, telling a lifetime of his brother’s quirks and knowing his way around them. “He tends to brood more than anything and last night there was definitely brooding.”
“Where is he?”
“Training again with Korra.”
Asami nods, tapping her nails against the wooden table, puffing out air through her cheeks. She shouldn’t let this get to her. She shouldn’t.
“I don’t know what to say to him,” she admits and it’s hard to get the words out, even if they’ve been repeating in her head over and over, but now they’re out there, spoken and Bolin’s strange silence isn’t helping one bit. His eyes big and round as he looks at her. She’s never had friends, not close ones, being homeschooled and coddled and finding that her self defence teachers weren’t around for idle chit chat and gossip. It makes her feel self conscious and awkward, like she’s unsure how to fit into her skin around all these new people.
“Korra’s going through something, I completely understand that.” She continues, biting the corner of her lip and not saying that she feels jealous, that even if there is nothing going on between them, that when she sees them together at times it feels like there’s this raging monster trying to claw its way out of her chest.
Bolin wraps his hand around a fist she doesn’t even remember making. “Sounds to me like you need to hit something,” he says, “how about we do our own training session?”
“Okay,” her lips round around the word, hesitantly smiling.
“So long as you promise to leave the electrifying glove in your closet.”
“Promise,” she retorts, crossing her fingers over her heart and grinning.
-
“Now you’ve had some experience, right?” Bolin asks, cracking the bones of his knuckles and bouncing around on the balls of his feet like one of the more excitable lemurs. “I saw you take out that equalist,” he continues, carefully not mentioning her dad, carefully avoiding that whole issue. “I’ve gotta say I was impressed.”
“Right,” she says, “The most expensive teacher’s money could buy, but no benders. I guess the lesson would be that I’d take them out before they did anything fancy, or at least avoid an attack I saw coming.” She waggles her fingers, imitating no bending move that either of them have ever witnessed.
“But if I-” and he stamps out with his foot, quick and sly, the ground beneath her feet rumbling and caving out, almost losing her balance as she moves, a few quick footfalls as she avoids the slide of earth, deftly landing far enough away from it, her heart beat quickening rabbit fast. “Good work,” Bolin claps, “with that fancy footwork you could be an earthbender.”
“Just the problem of not being able to move the earth.” She deadpans, feeling the energy and adrenalin run through every inch of her body. “Not my kind of fighting.”
“Then show me,” Bolin taunts, waving his hand and signalling her to go at him with everything that she’s capable of. Something, she thinks, he might just regret in the long run.
Which is what happens, half an hour, forty minutes later when Bolin rolls and lands flat on his back, arms crossed as if to ward away a spirit monster, crying, “No more, I give in. Asami Sato is truly the greatest and most best fighter in the world, ever.”
Asami grins, letting herself fall flat next to the floor after him and curling her legs up beneath her. “Thank the spirits,” she goes, sweat curling down the back of her neck, her muscles aching, “You really know how to put up a fight yourself, where did you learn some of those moves? Bending?”
“Nah.” Bolin sniffs, “Life,” he says sagely, “has been my teacher.” And there’s silence for a beat of a second before they both crack up laughing.
Asami’s sore, all over, wincing and aching in places she didn’t even realise she could hurt, but it’s a good kind of ache, one that makes her feel strangely comfortable and relaxed more than anything. That bitter taste she’s had in her mouth since she found out about the kiss and became unsure of everything she felt about Mako, disappearing.
“Thanks, Bo.” She goes, lying out flat beside him so that they’re both staring up at the sky and the grey clouds that are beginning to roll in past the mountains. Promising what looks likely to be a heavy storm later, maybe even a little snow. Bolin shifts beside her, turning his head to meet her, face on as she says: “I really needed that.”
“Anytime.” He answers. “Maybe next time bring the glove though, it might hurt a little less in the morning.” She punches his shoulder lightly and Bolin rolls, “Ow, ow, ow, ow!”
-
“So what did you do today?” Mako asks, his feet swinging off the cliff edge in a way that makes Asami feel nervous, even if he is safely and securely planted on the plateau, it’s a long way down and the water swirls heavy with the oncoming storm below them.
“I worked with Bolin,” she says. “Your brother has a really good right hook.”
“Bolin?” Mako asks, eyes widening and eyebrows furrowing down. “He didn’t hurt you?” He gives her a quick once over, looking for any sign of cuts or bruises.
“I’m a little sore,” she admits, which in itself is a bit of a lie because wow, does she ache all over. “But I think I gave him a run for his money. I didn’t say I didn’t have a more impressive right hook, after all.” She grins, quick as a flash and Mako sniffs, smiling.
“So,” she broaches, “How’s Korra doing?” She thinks back to the last fight she saw between them, an energy there that was strong, like the two of them were trying to punish each other, kicks and thrusts becoming stronger, deliberately out to hurt the other. She thinks to after when Korra had shook and Mako’s hand on her shoulder had made her still, calmer, brought her back.
He shifts, moving his scarf up to cover his mouth so his words come out muffled, “Okay, I guess. This Amon business. It’s a big mess really, isn’t it? Sorry,” he says, looking down and out at the water, at the construction work that goes on night and day at the arena, the sounds echoing out as a dim and constant noise here across the water.
“It’s…” She can’t say okay, because it isn’t, “A mess.” She concludes.
Mako just stares out at the water.
-
On Sunday night Asami can’t sleep and finally gives up, throwing on a wraparound cloak and heading out into the flurries of snow that whirl around the island like a picturesque snow globe. She doesn’t think about her dad’s face when he gave her the cloak, how it had whipped around her legs when he’d asked her to spin around for him, the soft smile that had taken over his face when she’d said she looked beautiful, just like her Mother.
She doesn’t think about how he’s probably hard at work right now, not even aware of the snow falling. The way he’d get so involved and consumed in his work that she’d have to remind him to take a break some nights, to eat and drink something. She doesn’t wonder whose doing that now, whilst he’s busy building machines and electrifying gloves in order to hurt her friends with. She doesn’t.
There are the far off sounds of someone fighting and Asami can see the puffs of steam rising into the cool air, the sharp tines of ice shards breaking as they hit the ground, splintering. She sees Korra after a moment too, beads of sweat dotting her skin and forehead, her arm coming up to wipe the majority of it away. She’s breathing heavily, constant movement as she whirls back and forth, pumping out with her fists and fire and bending the snow around her to make whips of water that strike the ground and scatter the gathering of snow that has managed to stick to the rocks and gravel.
“Korra!” She calls, wincing and ducking as a wave of water narrowly misses her head.
“Asami?” Korra squints, hands falling to her thighs as she breaths fast, in and out, then jogs over. “Did I hit you, spirits, I was just-”
“I’m fine,” Asami places a hand on top of Korra’s shoulder, throwing her hair back out of her face. “Isn’t it a little late to be training?” Up first thing and then out again when she’s supposed to be sleeping, Asami wonders if she’s had any rest at all since the whole mess with Tarrlok happening.
“Isn’t it a little late to be out on a walk?”
“A fair point,” Asami shudders, the cold hitting her now she’s still, “I couldn’t sleep and apparently you can’t either.”
“I need to be prepared,” Korra says, breath blowing out of her cheeks and rising into the air between them.
“I can help,” Asami ventures and Korra’s eyebrow rises and Asami feels something bubble inside of her. Before she can give herself time to think, before her brain can go this is Korra, she steps forward hitting out with her fist, the skin of her knuckles narrowly grazing Korra’s cheek.
“Whoa!” Korra back flips out of the way, feet landing one in front of the other, “Hey,” she shouts, teeth showing as she grins almost feral like, moving to the side as Asami pushes forward, giving Korra no time to say this probably isn’t a good idea. She twists around and kicks out, her foot planting itself firmly in Korra’s waist, the force throwing her down to the ground as she rolls and narrowly avoids the follow up of Asami’s heel which instead hits nothing but dirt.
Korra pushes herself back up, elbow coming up to wipe the grit off her cheek before she’s running straight for Asami, fingers hitting the ground as she swipes out with her leg, catching the back of Asami’s legs and bringing her down hard, head smacking the ground with a thwack that makes her vision see double Korra’s grinning down at her cat like for a moment.
“Here,” Korra says, bending down to offer her a hand up that Asami takes, twisting until the momentum pulls her up and Korra down, her leg finishing the attack and taking Korra’s legs out from under her.
“I should have expected that,” Korra says, letting her head hit back against the ground as Asami fights to get her breath back under control, her hands and legs feeling like they’re shaking. Korra’s a friend and the avatar and no matter what might be going on to make Asami feel otherwise, deep down she knows Korra would never intentionally hurt her.
“Sorry,” she says, sliding down to meet the ground, her knee just barely grazing Korra’s hip.
“No, I probably deserved that.” She sighs, “I just don’t know what I’m doing.” She pushes herself up, pulling her legs into her chest and curling her arms around them, resting her chin on her knees and looking at Asami. “I feel so lost right now,” she admits, the words so quiet Asami has to lean in to hear them, “so angry.”
“And tired,” Asami goes, not waiting a beat as Korra blinks back at her, “I’m so tired all the time and I feel like all I’m doing is waiting.”
“Right,” Korra says, leaning her head to the side and smiling.
-
There’s a bruise on the back of her shoulder, a blue and purple smudge that hurts to the touch and an ache to her legs that makes her feel heavy. She grins when she sees it, craning her neck and prodding with her fingers, moving her hair away from her back to see where it’s already beginning to yellow away at the edges.
Korra smiles at her at breakfast and she looks a little better, like she got a good night’s rest.
“Thanks for last night,” she says, cramming far too much bread one person can eat into her mouth.
“You’re welcome,” Asami replies, ignoring the looks Bolin and Mako throw the two over their heads.
-
It’s late and when the door knocks this time it’s Bolin, sheepish smile and hands in his pockets as Asami opens the door further and invites him in.
“You know,” he says, “Mako’s never been good with his feelings.”
Asami bites her bottom lip, taking a seat on the bed that Bolin’s already made claim to, his bare feet pushing against the ground, toes curling back against the wood. “And I guess in some ways I’ve always been the opposite. Mako hides everything and I blurt it right out, and most of the time it’s not exactly a good thing, you know, but sometimes it is, and if I keep going on long enough Mako usually asks me to stop.” He looks pointedly at Asami, who takes her cue and presses a hand to his shoulder, forcing him to take in a deep breath. “My point is,” he continues, “I know how to handle Mako, when he needs to talk and when he just wants to brood in gloomy silence for an hour, and I guess our friendship is kinda new still, but I still think I know when something’s wrong, or not right and I guess what I’m trying to say is that if you want to talk I’ll listen, and if you don’t, well, I can still be right here for when you do.” He pauses for breath and then looks up at her, freely scratching at the back of his neck. “Or if you want I can go, I mean, girl’s quarters and all, and I’m not a girl so…”
Asami leans her neck back, eyes closing automatically and finding her hand curl next to Bolin’s own. She can feel the heat coming off of him in waves, and its chilly tonight, the snow that was lazily drifting earlier beginning to come down with a swift and furious force.
“I’d like it if you stayed.” She whispers, stretching out along the bed and patting the empty space beside her. Thinking that for one night it would be nice not to feel so alone.
She sleeps heavy for the first time since she arrived, joints cracking and popping as she stretches out wide like a cat in the morning, finding the space next to her empty and cool, Bolin having left already so as not to get either of them in trouble with an acolyte, or worse Tenzin or Pema. She doesn’t like the idea of them thinking she’s disobeying their trust, this strange and newfound family.
And it might not last, she thinks, and it might change a little over the next few weeks, for certain, but she doesn’t feel so alone anymore, like she has to face whatever’s coming with just her two fists and her feet only.
Now she has this new family.