(no subject)
Title: Crossroads of Indecision
Rating: T
Pairings: Kurofai
Chapter: 2
Kurogane left the Northern Water Tribe to seek what he lost, a simple task made difficult by an air nomad who never wanted to be found. At the crossroads of their life, they could choose a path forged with hope for the future, or one burdened by the mistakes of the past.
An Avatar: The Last Airbender crossover. Even though this set in the Avatar world, the period takes place before the series, during the time Kyoshi was Avatar.
The opposing forces of yin and yang maintained balance in a person, as it would in nature; as long as one followed one’s own nature, one would be in harmony with all. The primary principle of Tao was the principle of life, and a force Kurogane believed in.
The balance of powers also worked to keep a body healthy. Thus far, his nature has served him well. By sheer willpower alone, he had staved off illness for years, not allowing anything like a simple flu to defeat him. Recently, the balance shifted, and the resilient water-bender caught his first cold in years. As he lay on his straw mat, feeling as if his body had rebelled against him, he tried to will the persistent illness away.
His hut was a stranger’s place for him. He only remembered his hut as it looked at night; every other day he would train, or fish, or run some errand or another that kept him away from his home. His dome ceiling of ice was nothing spectacular, and he bored staring at it. At least it served his purpose and kept the chilly air at bay. A few items filled the empty space: a fishing pole and line, a trunk, odd weapons, some of which he never used, furs, and a select few curios. He had forgotten how much stuff he had. Fai was the one thing in the hut that he would label as an oddity - a natural fixture in Kurogane’s life now, yet an unnatural presence in his home.
“Poor Master Kuro-rin. You should have never had a snowball fight. It’s a good thing I am here to care for you.” Back facing him, crouched over a boiling pot, Fai could not see Kurogane’s icy glare.
“You started the snowball fight!”
Fai convinced the Water Tribe boys and girls to ambush Kurogane. The airbender received much of his ire, as the skilled waterbender buried him in snow before sunset, sparing the kids led astray by the idiotic demon. Some divine force out there possessed an ironic sense of humor, as Kurogane was the only one bedridden with the flu.
Fai shoved a bowl under his nose. Kurogane took one look at the sprouts, growing out like tentacles over the bowl, floating in what looked like swamp water, and he felt the urge to vomit. Greener than the soup, he asked, “What the hell is that?”
“Bitter squid-root soup,” he said with enthusiasm, even though the name was just as sickly as the soup. Kurogane found it difficult to swallow, both physically and figuratively, that Fai actually made a niche as a cook. Never mind that Fai, while being a vegetarian, cooked in a place where the people loved seal-jerky and arctic-hen, but his concoctions were…this! How could someone who never used meat for ingredients manage to create dishes that looked alive? “It’s a house-favorite.”
Kurogane very much wanted to call him a liar, but something else weighed his mind. “Why are you here?”
“Because you’re sick, of course.”
Kurogane could have made a more pressing argument, especially since Fai did not answer the real question. However, it would take more than a sick man, and more than a few questions, to wrestle a straight answer out of Fai. He knew nothing of the airbender’s past, but he knew his nature, or he thought he did.
“Kuro-rin, do you think a person can change his nature?” With all possibilities, Kurogane most likely just imagined the question, a delusion brought on by his illness and wandering thoughts.
His sleeping patterns were erratic, arising with the moon and falling with the next moon. The cycle of day and night was just another example of yin and yang. Kurogane felt unbalanced with the day and night as well. Thus, the waterbender was not surprised that he woke before the sun. He was surprised, though, that Fai woke before him.
Oblivious to Kurogane, the airbender crouched over a pot, which Kurogane recognized as his own lumpy pot. The flames licked the porcelain base as Fai stirred. A heavy aroma wafted from the pot and settled in Kurogane’s gut.
Kurogane snapped a few twigs as he crawled to his feet, causing his blond companion to startle. Fai looked at him with eyes like a surprised rabbit. That expression quickly melted into his usual vacantly amused one. “Master Kuro-mu? So, you’re up. I had to rummage through your bag for a pot and some rice. I would apologize for the breach in personal space, but since I also had to look for my own clothes, I believe we’re even.”
Blushing, he walked over to Fai and sat down. “You were soaked. I only undressed you because I didn’t want you to catch a cold. I should have known better. Idiots don’t catch colds,” he said while avoiding eye contact. Fai’s amused smirk grew more prominent as Kurogane continued to fluster and blush.
Testing the rice, his amused expression disappeared. “It’s a little bland, but considering what I had to work with, it will have to do.” He reminded Kurogane that any dissatisfaction with the meal was situational. Fai did not defend himself as a liar, a tease, or a coward, but he deterred any man who would question his culinary skill.
They sat in silence, eating bland rice, and keeping even blander company. Only the crickets and birds talked. Kurogane spent several nights alone in the wilderness, so he was accustomed to silence, but not this heavy silence that pressed on them, reminding him that every moment was a word loss. After so long, he imagined himself at least talking with Fai. By the time the sun rose, the whole camp was on Kurogane’s back, and he was following the river again.
The sound of rushing water did not bring fond memories as they did yesterday. His thoughts were lost amongst the clouds, those formless wisps of air and water that drifted haplessly with the wind. The airbender limped behind him, cradling his side. It took three of his steps to measure one of Kurogane’s strides. He wondered if keeping Fai by his side was enough to keep him from drifting away.
“Kuro-pii, did you happen to find my glider?”
“You’re joking right?” He said, now realizing that the airbender must have been flying before being swept into the river. Luck must have been his tailwind, as the airbender should not be alive.
“I was flying when I was struck by lightning and crashed.”
“Again!”
“Oh, right. I told you that story before didn’t I?”
The waterbender felt as if his throat was on fire from restraining his exasperated scream. Now, Fai could not even keep track of his lies! He handled his fibs as he handled himself, carelessly, thrown into danger’s path, waiting for destruction, waiting for salvation, waiting for fate to make up its mind! The more he thought about it, the more he realized with sickening confidence that Fai had not changed.
“Master Kuro-puu!” Fai blew into his hut like a hurricane. Kurogane, unaware and unprepared, tangled himself in his own shirt as he dressed. Indignant, he fixed his clothes, feeling foolish for stuffing his head in his sleeve.
“It’s Kurogane!” he said from force of habit, forgetting the more serious implication of Fai freely walking in while he dressed.
The intruder twirled a crafted staff in his hand, and in true Fai-flare, he continued to chat, as if it was the only natural course of action. “Good news. Nyda was able to craft a glider for me based on my schematics.” What was it about Fai that turned his world inside out? Was it his ability to change the course of his day with little effort, unbalancing his life? “Saving enough money was difficult. I do not get paid much for cooking.” The other day, instead of quiet meditation, Fai dragged him to ride buffalo-yaks. Bufallo-Yaks! “I have a day off, so I thought I would try this out for the first time.” The waterbender had to scrub off at least two layers of skin to eliminate the buffalo-yak smell. Despite that, Kurogane knew Fai would coerce him into something stupid again. “I was thinking of testing it near that ravine I almost fell into the other day.”
“Damn it Fai, I’m trying to think!”
“You can think later, Master shirt-bender.”
Before the waterbender could curse him, or comprehend his new nickname, Fai stuffed him into his coat; he found himself trapped in a fur-lined prison when his head was once again stuffed in his sleeve. After much grunting, heaving, and wiggling, he was able to free himself. “What are you doing?”
“Don’t you want to come with?”
“What are you talking about?”
He experienced a few small wonders in the world, dancing lights in the sky, creatures that could swallow houses and create tidal waves with one flip of a tail, even a dragon, though it only flew by briefly, but when Fai twirled his staff to unlatch hidden wings and said, “I want to show you how I fly,” a child sized amount of wonder seized him. He imagined the airbender, weightless, surfing the air currents as if they were waves.
His fantasy was blown away when they reached the ravine, only for a blizzard to pick up. Fai smiled benignly at the sky, as if he greeted a friend instead of a storm. Kurogane questioned the airbender’s sense of self-preservation many times. However, as he fought to stand against winds that howled like hungry beasts, he questioned it no more. The airbender had no sense of self-awareness at all.
“Forget flying! That wind is going to tear you apart!” he hollered in the airbender’s ear, over the wind and the sound of dread that rung in his own ears.
“It’s okay! I’ve flown through worse!” Fay said, and Kurogane was amazed that this wisp of a man could talk so calmly in a storm. His light form looked as if the slightest wind could sweep him away, but he remained rooted. “I was even struck by lightning once.”
“What!”
“Here I go!”
“Wait!”
He reached for Fai and stopped, realizing that he had no stake in Fai’s life. He knew nothing of Fai really, except that he dragged him everywhere to play. Fai did not share a life with him, he shared a game, one in which the airbender did not expect to win. He did not even expect to win the friendship of the one person he singled out, the most stoic, unsocial, man in the tribe, the one most likely to throw Fai into the ravine.
He couldn’t be searching for his own demise; otherwise, he was taking an extremely long time to destroy himself. Yet, Kurogane felt that he would not move an inch if the sky choose to fall on him one day. What was his game? They shared a look; Fai’s impossibly blue gaze was as indecipherable as he was. He stood, frozen on spot, as he let a friend fly into the waiting jaws of a howling beast.
Like a butterfly gliding effortlessly in a gale, Fai sailed through the monstrous winds. The airbender looped around, twisted, and dived, mocking the storm and its effort to knock him down. He imagined that Fai was trying to communicate with flying, as if he should understand the message. Perhaps, his fears were unfounded. It might still have been a game, but the fact remained, Fai chose Kurogane to be with him. If anything threatened to knock him down, then at least the waterbender would be there to catch him.
A sudden chill traveled up Kurogane’s spine. Slowly, his apprehension grew; slowly, he recognized the feeling of dread. He tracked Fai across the sky, hoping his hunch did not become reality. He held his breath for the airbender’s feet to touch ground.
Suddenly, he could not see Fai anymore. His white glider was lost among the snow. “Damn it!” He knew that screaming for Fai was pointless in the storm. Frantically, he scanned the sky, hoping to see the windbag doing a loop-d-loop or something. Nothing happened. Fai was just there one moment and gone the next. Disappeared. No warning. Nothing.
Kurogane periodically glanced at Fai to make sure he was still there. He almost felt as if the man was a spirit that could vanish from this world forever. At times, Fai felt more solid, but at other times, the waterbender questioned the airbender’s very existence. Considering how he appeared and reappeared in his life, Kurogane felt his fears were validated. If he let his guard down, the next time Fai disappears could be permanent.
“Remember when you flew in the storm?”
“Ah yes,” Fai said, ignoring the tone of the conversation and inserting his own brand of whimsy. “That wasn’t one of my smartest ideas.”
“Really!” If he tried to contain his screams anymore, his tongue would rip out of his mouth. “That time, you still didn’t look half as bad as you do now!”
“Thank you.”
“That was not a compliment!” He grabbed the airbender’s arm to keep him grounded, with him, on earth. He flinched, even though Kurogane did not hold him tightly. “First time, it was a broken leg. Now this. You’re lucky to be alive! I thought I knew you, I thought you changed your life and put your past behind you! I thought you cared about yourself!”
Fai mumbled, eyes hidden by his bangs. The soft voice barely carried on the wind, but Kurogane still heard him say, “I care about you.”
“Start caring about yourself, before you start caring about others,” he growled. Those words had built up in his chest since he began his arduous journey. “You can’t care for anyone as weak as you are. If you really cared, you would take care of yourself, so you won’t worry the people you care about!” The bubbling emotions continued to boil. “You are a liar and a damn coward!” Kurogane released his arm, half expecting him to vanish in front of his eyes again.
“It’s okay Kuro-min, you don’t have to look so upset for saying the truth. I have lied and runaway a lot. I am so troublesome; I’m just flattered that you even considered me in the first place. I would think that someone like you princess would be more worth your time.” He laughed at his own dismissive words.
Fai cut himself down, as if he was trying to dismiss his existence, or that he should just disappear. To think that he would compare himself to his princess…, and to suggest whom Kurogane should care for.
“I didn’t mean it like that.” Kurogane instantly regretted his words. Words were never his friends, hence his aloofness. For once, he wished he could dress his speech with pretty words and soft tones. He felt as if he was holding a vase on the edge of a sword, and one wrong move could tip it over.
The air nomad shielded his eyes. He had been doing that a lot lately, ever since his hair grew out. As a child, Kurogane was told that a clam could not be forced out of its shell easily, but a warm current could coax the creature into revealing a pearl. He remembered that advice as he pulled Fai into a hug and let all the words he could not say wash over them in a tepid embrace. He wrapped his arms around his back as he held him, remembering his wounds. When Fai returned the hug, his heart beat just a little faster.
“I did not mean to hurt you, Master Kuro. I did not mean to hurt anyone.” He buried his wet face into Kurogane’s neck and whimpered against his skin. Something inside Fai opened in that moment, a latch that locked secret regrets. Kurogane still did not know what hurt him, as all Fai could do was apologize.
The sky, as clear as it was today, he still remembered the monster it once was. He could not view the sky casually anymore. No matter how many clear sunny days he saw, the image of Fai being swallowed by the endless void still clouded his mind.
He leaned against the icy bridge, motionless, as if he was a part of the structure. The hubbub of everyday life teamed around him. Canoes sailed along the narrow channels; waterbenders at the helm guided the waves with each smooth sway of their arms. Woman and men passed him, tucking their hands in their snug sleeves, smiling pleasantly as they passed.
“Even while surrounded by smiling faces, I have never seen anyone look so upset.” Young Princess Tsukiyomi Tomoyo greeted him with her usual mild countenance, stopping along the arched railing to talk with him.
Named for the moon, she was born with a pale complexion, and eyes as dark as midnight, almost ethereal in appearance. Because of this, many have speculated that her origins were mystical, but it was only romanticized fantasy. Her mother, with the same luminescent complexion, was not the moon, but a Fire Nation princess. Princess Tomoyo shared her complexion with her sister, as well, named for the sun; Amaterasu Kendappa lived in the Fire Nation palace with her mother. Her father remained with the tribe, and her mother’s allegiance was with the empire. Like the sun and the moon, they could not share the same sky, except for brief moments of their lives, almost like a fairy tale.
The fable-like origins of Princess Tomoyo favored her to the people of the water tribe who were proud of their tribe’s relationship with the moon. However, it was her deep-seeded sense of duty and affection for her people that earned her reverence. Kurogane was no exception, though he was her grumpiest subject.
“If this is about Fai, I don’t care to hear about it.”
“I think the only one in this tribe more stubborn than you is Fai.” She spoke of him as though he was a member of the family. Considering her parentage, her blind spot when it came to difference was understandable. Her world was larger than the water tribe, extending far past the icy walls and to the heart of the fire nation where her mother and sister resided. “I spoke with him recently. He was very polite while we peacefully drank tea. He hung onto every word I said, even stuffy political affairs… completely miserable.”
“If he is so miserable, he should do something about it. The guy’s lucky I was able to rescue his miserable life twice.” His gut felt heavy, as if he swallowed three bowels of Fai’s meatless squid-root soup. His churning emotions came from the fact that Fai was just unpleasant to think about - that had to be it. He didn’t know how Princess Tomoyo could even consider Fai having any kind of similar personality traits as him. Fai was the antithesis of everything that was Kurogane. “I just don’t understand that guy.”
“You really care about him don’t you?”
“I do not!” He jumped to his own defense, quickly dispelling any opinion that the airbender had any effect on him.
The princess, accustomed to his emotional resistance, shrugged. “I suppose we all have our opinions. Separate lives and experiences color our view of the world in many varying shades.” She looked at the same spot of sky as Kurogane.
“That cloud looks like a fluffy bunny.” To Kurogane it looked more like a rude hand gesture. Then again, the sky had been uncomforting to him lately. The silence stretched, but Kurogane felt as if it was a comfortable silence, a reprieve from unnecessary words…. He still did not see how it looked like a bunny.
“Understanding another person’s nature is accepting our natural differences, and appreciating each person’s unique contribution in our lives. As a princess, I have to accept that I cannot completely understand all my subjects, but as long as I understand myself, and what I can do for the people I love, I will not be overwhelmed.”
“Are you trying to say that the only reason I can’t understand him is because I don’t understand myself.” As much as Princess Tomoyo always insisted that she was not a fortune-teller, he could not help but feel as if she predicted and planned for the whole conversation.
“Actually, I was trying to say that being a princess is hard work, hohoho….” Hearing that teasing voice from such an elegant girl really threw Kurogane off balance. He literally caught himself from falling over the railing when she laughed.
“Only you can understand your true feelings,” she said, both knowing yet unassuming. She inclined her head in a slight bow, gracefully moving from one topic to the next. “I have some important business to attend to before the winter solstice. Everyone is expecting a great festival this year. As always, Kurogane, your company has been… interesting.” The jest sounded as though it came from an amused older relative, even though Princess Tomoyo was half his age.
She left him with more to ponder than before. He meditated on his own nature as he contemplated his reflection in the channel. Instead of feeling the vastness of the unpredictable sky, he felt the vastness within himself, internalizing his own ever-changing nature. As his mind opened to all the possibilities of the universe inside of him, he came to one understanding…
… The next time he saw Fai, he was going to pelt him with snowballs for the trouble he caused.
Chapter: 1 2 3 4 5
oOoEdited for tags. I just knew I would miss something!
Edited again for pure cosmetic reasons *headdesk*
This chapter is longer because I tagged on an extra scene with Tomoyo that wasn’t originally planned out. I don’t think that is much of a problem. The scene really helps bridge the gap anyway.
Note: I always encourage any criticism. I did not have my ruthless cousin tear apart this chapter first, so I am relying on my own worst/best judgment.
Rating: T
Pairings: Kurofai
Chapter: 2
Kurogane left the Northern Water Tribe to seek what he lost, a simple task made difficult by an air nomad who never wanted to be found. At the crossroads of their life, they could choose a path forged with hope for the future, or one burdened by the mistakes of the past.
An Avatar: The Last Airbender crossover. Even though this set in the Avatar world, the period takes place before the series, during the time Kyoshi was Avatar.
The opposing forces of yin and yang maintained balance in a person, as it would in nature; as long as one followed one’s own nature, one would be in harmony with all. The primary principle of Tao was the principle of life, and a force Kurogane believed in.
The balance of powers also worked to keep a body healthy. Thus far, his nature has served him well. By sheer willpower alone, he had staved off illness for years, not allowing anything like a simple flu to defeat him. Recently, the balance shifted, and the resilient water-bender caught his first cold in years. As he lay on his straw mat, feeling as if his body had rebelled against him, he tried to will the persistent illness away.
His hut was a stranger’s place for him. He only remembered his hut as it looked at night; every other day he would train, or fish, or run some errand or another that kept him away from his home. His dome ceiling of ice was nothing spectacular, and he bored staring at it. At least it served his purpose and kept the chilly air at bay. A few items filled the empty space: a fishing pole and line, a trunk, odd weapons, some of which he never used, furs, and a select few curios. He had forgotten how much stuff he had. Fai was the one thing in the hut that he would label as an oddity - a natural fixture in Kurogane’s life now, yet an unnatural presence in his home.
“Poor Master Kuro-rin. You should have never had a snowball fight. It’s a good thing I am here to care for you.” Back facing him, crouched over a boiling pot, Fai could not see Kurogane’s icy glare.
“You started the snowball fight!”
Fai convinced the Water Tribe boys and girls to ambush Kurogane. The airbender received much of his ire, as the skilled waterbender buried him in snow before sunset, sparing the kids led astray by the idiotic demon. Some divine force out there possessed an ironic sense of humor, as Kurogane was the only one bedridden with the flu.
Fai shoved a bowl under his nose. Kurogane took one look at the sprouts, growing out like tentacles over the bowl, floating in what looked like swamp water, and he felt the urge to vomit. Greener than the soup, he asked, “What the hell is that?”
“Bitter squid-root soup,” he said with enthusiasm, even though the name was just as sickly as the soup. Kurogane found it difficult to swallow, both physically and figuratively, that Fai actually made a niche as a cook. Never mind that Fai, while being a vegetarian, cooked in a place where the people loved seal-jerky and arctic-hen, but his concoctions were…this! How could someone who never used meat for ingredients manage to create dishes that looked alive? “It’s a house-favorite.”
Kurogane very much wanted to call him a liar, but something else weighed his mind. “Why are you here?”
“Because you’re sick, of course.”
Kurogane could have made a more pressing argument, especially since Fai did not answer the real question. However, it would take more than a sick man, and more than a few questions, to wrestle a straight answer out of Fai. He knew nothing of the airbender’s past, but he knew his nature, or he thought he did.
“Kuro-rin, do you think a person can change his nature?” With all possibilities, Kurogane most likely just imagined the question, a delusion brought on by his illness and wandering thoughts.
His sleeping patterns were erratic, arising with the moon and falling with the next moon. The cycle of day and night was just another example of yin and yang. Kurogane felt unbalanced with the day and night as well. Thus, the waterbender was not surprised that he woke before the sun. He was surprised, though, that Fai woke before him.
Oblivious to Kurogane, the airbender crouched over a pot, which Kurogane recognized as his own lumpy pot. The flames licked the porcelain base as Fai stirred. A heavy aroma wafted from the pot and settled in Kurogane’s gut.
Kurogane snapped a few twigs as he crawled to his feet, causing his blond companion to startle. Fai looked at him with eyes like a surprised rabbit. That expression quickly melted into his usual vacantly amused one. “Master Kuro-mu? So, you’re up. I had to rummage through your bag for a pot and some rice. I would apologize for the breach in personal space, but since I also had to look for my own clothes, I believe we’re even.”
Blushing, he walked over to Fai and sat down. “You were soaked. I only undressed you because I didn’t want you to catch a cold. I should have known better. Idiots don’t catch colds,” he said while avoiding eye contact. Fai’s amused smirk grew more prominent as Kurogane continued to fluster and blush.
Testing the rice, his amused expression disappeared. “It’s a little bland, but considering what I had to work with, it will have to do.” He reminded Kurogane that any dissatisfaction with the meal was situational. Fai did not defend himself as a liar, a tease, or a coward, but he deterred any man who would question his culinary skill.
They sat in silence, eating bland rice, and keeping even blander company. Only the crickets and birds talked. Kurogane spent several nights alone in the wilderness, so he was accustomed to silence, but not this heavy silence that pressed on them, reminding him that every moment was a word loss. After so long, he imagined himself at least talking with Fai. By the time the sun rose, the whole camp was on Kurogane’s back, and he was following the river again.
The sound of rushing water did not bring fond memories as they did yesterday. His thoughts were lost amongst the clouds, those formless wisps of air and water that drifted haplessly with the wind. The airbender limped behind him, cradling his side. It took three of his steps to measure one of Kurogane’s strides. He wondered if keeping Fai by his side was enough to keep him from drifting away.
“Kuro-pii, did you happen to find my glider?”
“You’re joking right?” He said, now realizing that the airbender must have been flying before being swept into the river. Luck must have been his tailwind, as the airbender should not be alive.
“I was flying when I was struck by lightning and crashed.”
“Again!”
“Oh, right. I told you that story before didn’t I?”
The waterbender felt as if his throat was on fire from restraining his exasperated scream. Now, Fai could not even keep track of his lies! He handled his fibs as he handled himself, carelessly, thrown into danger’s path, waiting for destruction, waiting for salvation, waiting for fate to make up its mind! The more he thought about it, the more he realized with sickening confidence that Fai had not changed.
“Master Kuro-puu!” Fai blew into his hut like a hurricane. Kurogane, unaware and unprepared, tangled himself in his own shirt as he dressed. Indignant, he fixed his clothes, feeling foolish for stuffing his head in his sleeve.
“It’s Kurogane!” he said from force of habit, forgetting the more serious implication of Fai freely walking in while he dressed.
The intruder twirled a crafted staff in his hand, and in true Fai-flare, he continued to chat, as if it was the only natural course of action. “Good news. Nyda was able to craft a glider for me based on my schematics.” What was it about Fai that turned his world inside out? Was it his ability to change the course of his day with little effort, unbalancing his life? “Saving enough money was difficult. I do not get paid much for cooking.” The other day, instead of quiet meditation, Fai dragged him to ride buffalo-yaks. Bufallo-Yaks! “I have a day off, so I thought I would try this out for the first time.” The waterbender had to scrub off at least two layers of skin to eliminate the buffalo-yak smell. Despite that, Kurogane knew Fai would coerce him into something stupid again. “I was thinking of testing it near that ravine I almost fell into the other day.”
“Damn it Fai, I’m trying to think!”
“You can think later, Master shirt-bender.”
Before the waterbender could curse him, or comprehend his new nickname, Fai stuffed him into his coat; he found himself trapped in a fur-lined prison when his head was once again stuffed in his sleeve. After much grunting, heaving, and wiggling, he was able to free himself. “What are you doing?”
“Don’t you want to come with?”
“What are you talking about?”
He experienced a few small wonders in the world, dancing lights in the sky, creatures that could swallow houses and create tidal waves with one flip of a tail, even a dragon, though it only flew by briefly, but when Fai twirled his staff to unlatch hidden wings and said, “I want to show you how I fly,” a child sized amount of wonder seized him. He imagined the airbender, weightless, surfing the air currents as if they were waves.
His fantasy was blown away when they reached the ravine, only for a blizzard to pick up. Fai smiled benignly at the sky, as if he greeted a friend instead of a storm. Kurogane questioned the airbender’s sense of self-preservation many times. However, as he fought to stand against winds that howled like hungry beasts, he questioned it no more. The airbender had no sense of self-awareness at all.
“Forget flying! That wind is going to tear you apart!” he hollered in the airbender’s ear, over the wind and the sound of dread that rung in his own ears.
“It’s okay! I’ve flown through worse!” Fay said, and Kurogane was amazed that this wisp of a man could talk so calmly in a storm. His light form looked as if the slightest wind could sweep him away, but he remained rooted. “I was even struck by lightning once.”
“What!”
“Here I go!”
“Wait!”
He reached for Fai and stopped, realizing that he had no stake in Fai’s life. He knew nothing of Fai really, except that he dragged him everywhere to play. Fai did not share a life with him, he shared a game, one in which the airbender did not expect to win. He did not even expect to win the friendship of the one person he singled out, the most stoic, unsocial, man in the tribe, the one most likely to throw Fai into the ravine.
He couldn’t be searching for his own demise; otherwise, he was taking an extremely long time to destroy himself. Yet, Kurogane felt that he would not move an inch if the sky choose to fall on him one day. What was his game? They shared a look; Fai’s impossibly blue gaze was as indecipherable as he was. He stood, frozen on spot, as he let a friend fly into the waiting jaws of a howling beast.
Like a butterfly gliding effortlessly in a gale, Fai sailed through the monstrous winds. The airbender looped around, twisted, and dived, mocking the storm and its effort to knock him down. He imagined that Fai was trying to communicate with flying, as if he should understand the message. Perhaps, his fears were unfounded. It might still have been a game, but the fact remained, Fai chose Kurogane to be with him. If anything threatened to knock him down, then at least the waterbender would be there to catch him.
A sudden chill traveled up Kurogane’s spine. Slowly, his apprehension grew; slowly, he recognized the feeling of dread. He tracked Fai across the sky, hoping his hunch did not become reality. He held his breath for the airbender’s feet to touch ground.
Suddenly, he could not see Fai anymore. His white glider was lost among the snow. “Damn it!” He knew that screaming for Fai was pointless in the storm. Frantically, he scanned the sky, hoping to see the windbag doing a loop-d-loop or something. Nothing happened. Fai was just there one moment and gone the next. Disappeared. No warning. Nothing.
Kurogane periodically glanced at Fai to make sure he was still there. He almost felt as if the man was a spirit that could vanish from this world forever. At times, Fai felt more solid, but at other times, the waterbender questioned the airbender’s very existence. Considering how he appeared and reappeared in his life, Kurogane felt his fears were validated. If he let his guard down, the next time Fai disappears could be permanent.
“Remember when you flew in the storm?”
“Ah yes,” Fai said, ignoring the tone of the conversation and inserting his own brand of whimsy. “That wasn’t one of my smartest ideas.”
“Really!” If he tried to contain his screams anymore, his tongue would rip out of his mouth. “That time, you still didn’t look half as bad as you do now!”
“Thank you.”
“That was not a compliment!” He grabbed the airbender’s arm to keep him grounded, with him, on earth. He flinched, even though Kurogane did not hold him tightly. “First time, it was a broken leg. Now this. You’re lucky to be alive! I thought I knew you, I thought you changed your life and put your past behind you! I thought you cared about yourself!”
Fai mumbled, eyes hidden by his bangs. The soft voice barely carried on the wind, but Kurogane still heard him say, “I care about you.”
“Start caring about yourself, before you start caring about others,” he growled. Those words had built up in his chest since he began his arduous journey. “You can’t care for anyone as weak as you are. If you really cared, you would take care of yourself, so you won’t worry the people you care about!” The bubbling emotions continued to boil. “You are a liar and a damn coward!” Kurogane released his arm, half expecting him to vanish in front of his eyes again.
“It’s okay Kuro-min, you don’t have to look so upset for saying the truth. I have lied and runaway a lot. I am so troublesome; I’m just flattered that you even considered me in the first place. I would think that someone like you princess would be more worth your time.” He laughed at his own dismissive words.
Fai cut himself down, as if he was trying to dismiss his existence, or that he should just disappear. To think that he would compare himself to his princess…, and to suggest whom Kurogane should care for.
“I didn’t mean it like that.” Kurogane instantly regretted his words. Words were never his friends, hence his aloofness. For once, he wished he could dress his speech with pretty words and soft tones. He felt as if he was holding a vase on the edge of a sword, and one wrong move could tip it over.
The air nomad shielded his eyes. He had been doing that a lot lately, ever since his hair grew out. As a child, Kurogane was told that a clam could not be forced out of its shell easily, but a warm current could coax the creature into revealing a pearl. He remembered that advice as he pulled Fai into a hug and let all the words he could not say wash over them in a tepid embrace. He wrapped his arms around his back as he held him, remembering his wounds. When Fai returned the hug, his heart beat just a little faster.
“I did not mean to hurt you, Master Kuro. I did not mean to hurt anyone.” He buried his wet face into Kurogane’s neck and whimpered against his skin. Something inside Fai opened in that moment, a latch that locked secret regrets. Kurogane still did not know what hurt him, as all Fai could do was apologize.
The sky, as clear as it was today, he still remembered the monster it once was. He could not view the sky casually anymore. No matter how many clear sunny days he saw, the image of Fai being swallowed by the endless void still clouded his mind.
He leaned against the icy bridge, motionless, as if he was a part of the structure. The hubbub of everyday life teamed around him. Canoes sailed along the narrow channels; waterbenders at the helm guided the waves with each smooth sway of their arms. Woman and men passed him, tucking their hands in their snug sleeves, smiling pleasantly as they passed.
“Even while surrounded by smiling faces, I have never seen anyone look so upset.” Young Princess Tsukiyomi Tomoyo greeted him with her usual mild countenance, stopping along the arched railing to talk with him.
Named for the moon, she was born with a pale complexion, and eyes as dark as midnight, almost ethereal in appearance. Because of this, many have speculated that her origins were mystical, but it was only romanticized fantasy. Her mother, with the same luminescent complexion, was not the moon, but a Fire Nation princess. Princess Tomoyo shared her complexion with her sister, as well, named for the sun; Amaterasu Kendappa lived in the Fire Nation palace with her mother. Her father remained with the tribe, and her mother’s allegiance was with the empire. Like the sun and the moon, they could not share the same sky, except for brief moments of their lives, almost like a fairy tale.
The fable-like origins of Princess Tomoyo favored her to the people of the water tribe who were proud of their tribe’s relationship with the moon. However, it was her deep-seeded sense of duty and affection for her people that earned her reverence. Kurogane was no exception, though he was her grumpiest subject.
“If this is about Fai, I don’t care to hear about it.”
“I think the only one in this tribe more stubborn than you is Fai.” She spoke of him as though he was a member of the family. Considering her parentage, her blind spot when it came to difference was understandable. Her world was larger than the water tribe, extending far past the icy walls and to the heart of the fire nation where her mother and sister resided. “I spoke with him recently. He was very polite while we peacefully drank tea. He hung onto every word I said, even stuffy political affairs… completely miserable.”
“If he is so miserable, he should do something about it. The guy’s lucky I was able to rescue his miserable life twice.” His gut felt heavy, as if he swallowed three bowels of Fai’s meatless squid-root soup. His churning emotions came from the fact that Fai was just unpleasant to think about - that had to be it. He didn’t know how Princess Tomoyo could even consider Fai having any kind of similar personality traits as him. Fai was the antithesis of everything that was Kurogane. “I just don’t understand that guy.”
“You really care about him don’t you?”
“I do not!” He jumped to his own defense, quickly dispelling any opinion that the airbender had any effect on him.
The princess, accustomed to his emotional resistance, shrugged. “I suppose we all have our opinions. Separate lives and experiences color our view of the world in many varying shades.” She looked at the same spot of sky as Kurogane.
“That cloud looks like a fluffy bunny.” To Kurogane it looked more like a rude hand gesture. Then again, the sky had been uncomforting to him lately. The silence stretched, but Kurogane felt as if it was a comfortable silence, a reprieve from unnecessary words…. He still did not see how it looked like a bunny.
“Understanding another person’s nature is accepting our natural differences, and appreciating each person’s unique contribution in our lives. As a princess, I have to accept that I cannot completely understand all my subjects, but as long as I understand myself, and what I can do for the people I love, I will not be overwhelmed.”
“Are you trying to say that the only reason I can’t understand him is because I don’t understand myself.” As much as Princess Tomoyo always insisted that she was not a fortune-teller, he could not help but feel as if she predicted and planned for the whole conversation.
“Actually, I was trying to say that being a princess is hard work, hohoho….” Hearing that teasing voice from such an elegant girl really threw Kurogane off balance. He literally caught himself from falling over the railing when she laughed.
“Only you can understand your true feelings,” she said, both knowing yet unassuming. She inclined her head in a slight bow, gracefully moving from one topic to the next. “I have some important business to attend to before the winter solstice. Everyone is expecting a great festival this year. As always, Kurogane, your company has been… interesting.” The jest sounded as though it came from an amused older relative, even though Princess Tomoyo was half his age.
She left him with more to ponder than before. He meditated on his own nature as he contemplated his reflection in the channel. Instead of feeling the vastness of the unpredictable sky, he felt the vastness within himself, internalizing his own ever-changing nature. As his mind opened to all the possibilities of the universe inside of him, he came to one understanding…
… The next time he saw Fai, he was going to pelt him with snowballs for the trouble he caused.
Chapter: 1 2 3 4 5
oOoEdited for tags. I just knew I would miss something!
Edited again for pure cosmetic reasons *headdesk*
This chapter is longer because I tagged on an extra scene with Tomoyo that wasn’t originally planned out. I don’t think that is much of a problem. The scene really helps bridge the gap anyway.
Note: I always encourage any criticism. I did not have my ruthless cousin tear apart this chapter first, so I am relying on my own worst/best judgment.