V2.C13. Unwanted Company

Chapter 13: Unwanted Company

Autumn had settled over the southern Air Temple, casting a golden glow across the stone walkways and temple courtyards. The early morning air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of fallen leaves and the distant sound of chimes swaying in the breeze. Though the temple was far from abandoned, it remained quiet at this hour, the gentle hum of morning prayers and the measured steps of monks the only sounds to break the silence.

A few air nomads moved gracefully through the courtyards, some engaged in meditation while others practiced their morning exercises—flowing stances and elegant movements, their orange and yellow robes fluttering as they bent the air around them in seamless harmony. The temple, carved into the side of a mountain, rose high above the surrounding valleys, its many halls, courtyards, and stairways forming a labyrinthine sanctuary of peace and enlightenment.

Yet, in one particular room, tucked away within the sprawling structure, a young man stirred from his slumber.

Yohan awoke slowly, his body sinking deeper into the woven mat beneath him before he stretched out with a quiet exhale. He lay still for a moment, staring at the wooden ceiling above, tracing the familiar patterns of the beams. His body was rested, but a dull ache still lingered in his muscles—a reminder of the injuries he had only recently recovered from.

He sat up, rolling his shoulders, his lean but well-defined torso flexing slightly with the motion. His long, dark brown hair cascaded down past his shoulders, a few strands falling over his face before he brushed them aside. Unlike most of the monks who kept their heads shaved, Yohan preferred his hair long, an oddity that many of the elders tolerated but occasionally teased him about.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he reached for the rest of his clothing, slipping on the loose-fitting robes of the Air Nomads. Though he often practiced without his upper robes, he knew better than to wander the temple half-dressed, especially with the elders already up and about. With practiced ease, he tied the sash around his waist and stepped out into the quiet halls of the temple.

The halls were spacious, lined with carved pillars and lanterns that cast a warm glow in the dim morning light. As Yohan meandered through the winding corridors, he encountered the familiar faces of his fellow monks and disciples, exchanging greetings with each of them in turn.

The first he came across was Master Tenzu, an elder with a long white beard and kind eyes. The old man was standing near an open window, gazing out at the mountains as if listening to the wind itself.

"Good morning, Master Tenzu," Yohan said, bowing respectfully.

Tenzu turned and gave him a warm smile. "Ah, Yohan. Up early, I see. Your energy has returned, I hope?"

"Mostly," Yohan admitted. "Still shaking off the last of it."

"You are young. Your body will heal, but patience is key," the elder mused. "Do not rush the wind, for it carries you when you are ready."

Yohan nodded in understanding before continuing onward.

A few steps later, he crossed paths with Sister Mei, another elder, her robes immaculate as always. She walked with measured grace, her airbending tattoos standing out against her weathered skin.

"Yohan," she greeted, inclining her head. "Have you been tending to your training?"

"Of course," he replied. "Every day."

She studied him for a moment before offering a small, approving nod. "Good. Discipline shapes the wind, just as the wind shapes the world."

He continued deeper into the temple, exchanging greetings with Brother Ren, a third elder who simply patted his shoulder in acknowledgment as he passed by.

Moving through the second floor, he encountered Niko, Sora, and Fenji, three monks who, unlike him, had earned their airbending tattoos.

"Niko, Sora, Fenji," Yohan greeted with a friendly nod.

"Yohan! Up early for training again?" Niko grinned.

Sora smirked. "Still trying to be the best airbender in the temple, I see."

"Someone has to give the elders a reason to be impressed," Yohan teased.

Fenji chuckled. "Well, don't push yourself too hard. I heard Master Tao might be testing some of the younger monks soon."

"I'll keep that in mind," Yohan said before moving on.

As he descended a long spiral staircase, he encountered a few younger disciples—Tak, Rin, and Lian—each still in training, their robes fresh and unadorned with tattoos.

"Yohan!" Tak called out excitedly.

"Morning!" Rin added, giving him a casual wave.

Lian, the quietest of the three, simply nodded in greeting.

"Still working on your forms?" Yohan asked.

"Trying to," Rin sighed. "Master Lao says my stances are too rigid."

"Loosen up," Yohan advised. "Bend like the wind, not like a tree in a storm."

The disciples chuckled, and with a final exchange of words, Yohan continued on his way until he reached one of the temple's many gardens.

The garden was an open courtyard, enclosed by stone walls covered in climbing vines. Several trees stood tall, their branches twisting toward the sky, their leaves already beginning to fall. The ground was littered with crisp golden and red leaves, contrasting against the vibrant green of the vegetables growing in the neatly arranged plots.

But Yohan's focus was on a particular cluster of trees near the center—ornate and colorful, their pink fruits hanging like delicate ornaments among the thinning foliage. This was his sanctuary, the place he came to when he needed clarity.

He stepped onto the soft earth, taking a deep breath as the wind rustled through the leaves. Slowly, he moved to the center of the grove, his bare feet grounding him as he took a fluid stance.

At first, his movements were small—gentle currents of air swaying around him, brushing against the trees and swirling between the fallen leaves. With a flick of his wrist, a light gust carried the scattered leaves into a slow, graceful dance, spinning around him in controlled spirals.

His hands moved deliberately, guiding the air with precision. Unlike his best friend, Yogan, Yohan did not use a staff; he relied solely on his body, shaping the air with each measured motion. His fingers curled, directing the wind into soft currents that reached into the branches. The pink fruits trembled, but he was careful—not too much force, not too little. One by one, the ripe fruits fell, carried downward by the air's embrace, landing gently in a neat pile.

At the same time, the wind gathered the fallen leaves, drawing them together into a swirling vortex. Yohan stepped back, his hands shifting, guiding the leaves into a single, organized heap separate from the fruit.

His control was effortless, his movements flowing like a river. Not a single branch was disturbed, not a single fruit damaged. When he finally let the wind settle, the garden was left in perfect balance—fruits gathered in one place, leaves in another.

Yohan exhaled, lowering his hands. The air stilled around him, and a small smile played on his lips. This was why he loved airbending—not just for its power, but for the harmony it brought.

He reached down, picking up one of the pink fruits, taking a slow bite as he gazed at the temple in the distance. The morning had only just begun, and yet, he already felt at peace.

Yohan reached into a wooden cache built into the stone wall of the garden, his fingers brushing against the cool, smooth surface of a sturdy bucket. He gripped its worn handle, lifting it with ease, the weight familiar in his hands. The wooden grain was polished from years of use, and the faint scent of fresh earth clung to it—a reminder of the many mornings he had spent gathering the fruits of the temple gardens.

Turning back toward the pile of fruit he had carefully collected with his airbending, Yohan walked over with steady, deliberate steps. He knelt, the fabric of his robes shifting slightly as he lowered himself, and began gathering the pink fruits one by one. His hands moved with practiced efficiency, each piece cradled gently before being placed into the bucket. The fruits were firm yet soft to the touch, their skin glistening faintly in the morning light.

The rhythmic task brought him a quiet sense of satisfaction, the simple act of gathering and sorting grounding him in the moment. He had come to love this routine—it was peaceful, undisturbed, his own small corner of the world.

But that peace was shattered by the sound of approaching footsteps.

A familiar voice, deep and wise, called out, "Yohan."

Yohan paused mid-motion, his grip tightening slightly around a fruit. He knew that voice. Elder Monk Tenzon.

He turned, rising to his feet, only to feel his stomach tighten at the sight of the figure standing beside the elder.

Kaiya.

His jaw clenched instinctively, his fingers curling into a fist before he forced himself to relax. Of all people, of all faces he had hoped to avoid, hers was at the very top of the list.

Kaiya, the girl who had once been Yogan's lover. The girl who had betrayed them all.

Her involvement with Kezin, her hand in manipulating Renji's coup against the temple, had been one of the many reasons Yogan had left. And now she was here, standing in front of him, looking smaller than he remembered.

He ignored her. His gaze remained firmly on Monk Tenzon, bowing slightly out of respect. "Elder," he greeted smoothly, his voice even.

Tenzon returned the greeting with a nod, his expression unreadable. "You've done fine work here, Yohan. The garden thrives under your care."

Yohan exhaled slowly, focusing on the elder's words rather than the unwanted presence beside him. "I appreciate the opportunity you gave me, Elder. Working here has helped me recover—from my injuries and my airbending."

Tenzon's lips curled into a small smile. "That is good to hear. Balance is best restored through patience and discipline. And I must say, you have handled both well."

For a brief moment, Yohan felt a flicker of pride. He had spent the last week tending to this garden, refining his bending in ways he hadn't before. It had given him a sense of peace, something stable to hold onto after everything that had happened.

That peace was shattered when Tenzon placed a hand on Kaiya's back and gently pushed her forward.

Yohan's expression darkened immediately, his muscles tensing.

"It is time to bring Kaiya back into the fold of the temple," Tenzon said, his tone calm but firm.

Yohan felt the heat rise in his chest, but he said nothing, only watching the elder carefully.

Tenzon, of course, noticed the shift in his demeanor but continued as though unaffected. "The council has deliberated, and though we understand the pain she has caused, it has been decided that her punishment has been sufficient."

Yohan barely held back a bitter scoff. Sufficient?

"A week in the Stone Chamber is not a light sentence," Tenzon continued. "It is the harshest punishment we give to our own. Look at the poor girl."

For the first time, Yohan truly looked at Kaiya.

She was nothing but skin and bones now. The girl he had known, the girl who had been bright, energetic, and sharp, had been reduced to a hollow version of herself. Her once-strong frame now seemed frail, her cheekbones prominent, her arms thinner than he remembered. Her once-vibrant eyes were dull, sunken from exhaustion.

For the briefest of moments, a pang of empathy cut through him.

Then it vanished.

He crushed the feeling before it could take root, schooling his face into a cold mask. He met Tenzon's gaze. "And what do you want me to do about it?" His tone was calm, but there was no mistaking the sharp edge beneath it.

"She will be working here," Tenzon said simply. "With you."

Yohan's jaw tightened. "There are other gardens," he said immediately.

Tenzon raised a hand, cutting off any further protest. His expression, though still composed, left no room for argument. "Yogan is gone. And besides him, the one who felt the greatest betrayal from her… was you."

Yohan stiffened, his breath hitching for just a second.

"This is where her journey back into the temple begins," Tenzon continued. "By working with you in preparing food for the entire temple, she will earn back the trust of the others."

Yohan felt his pulse pounding in his ears.

Tenzon's eyes met his, calm but unyielding. "And more importantly, she will earn your forgiveness."

Silence stretched between them, the crisp autumn air suddenly feeling heavier.

Kaiya, for her part, remained quiet, her head bowed slightly, as though bracing herself for whatever he would say next.

Yohan let out a slow, measured breath, his fingers unconsciously gripping the edge of the bucket at his side.

His sanctuary had just been shattered.

The breeze carried a crisp chill through the garden as Monk Tenzon turned to leave, his orange and yellow robes fluttering slightly in the wind. Yohan remained still, his arms crossed, watching the elder's retreating figure with an unreadable expression.

That left just him and Kaiya.

An uncomfortable silence settled between them like a thick fog.

Kaiya stood awkwardly, her hands gripping the edges of her worn robes. She opened her mouth, hesitating for a moment before finally speaking. "I am—"

"Don't."

Yohan cut her off sharply, his voice steady but cold. He didn't look at her as he spoke, instead reaching into the bucket beside him and pulling out a fruit. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed it toward her.

Kaiya reacted instinctively, her hands moving to catch it—but she fumbled.

The fruit slipped through her fingers before she barely managed to clasp it against her chest at the last second. It was clumsy. Sloppy.

Yohan suppressed the scoff that threatened to rise in his throat.

Her reflexes were once the best in the temple, he thought. Now she's barely able to catch a piece of fruit.

He sighed, shaking his head as he grabbed another fruit from the bucket for himself. "Eat it," he said plainly. "You're going to need the energy."

Kaiya hesitated before nodding. She raised the fruit to her lips and took a small, careful bite, her movements slow and delicate—almost unsure.

Yohan ignored the way her hands shook slightly, tearing off a bite of his own fruit. He finished it quickly, tossing the core into the compost heap before reaching for another. "Once you're done eating, fill the bucket with the rest of the fruit," he instructed, his tone firm but even. "When that's full, there's a larger basket inside the cache. Bring that out and fill it too."

Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked toward the vegetable plots. This conversation was already over.

A Tense Routine

The garden had long since been harvested, leaving only the remains of wilted stems and dry leaves scattered across the soil. Yohan crouched low, pulling out the leftover roots from the cabbage patches. His hands moved with practiced efficiency, clearing the soil in preparation for the next planting season.

He didn't speak to Kaiya, nor did she speak to him. But he felt her presence.

From the corner of his vision, he saw her moving stiffly, her posture rigid as she bent down to gather the fruit. Her once fluid, graceful movements were now awkward, hesitant—like someone unfamiliar with their own body.

She didn't complain. She didn't make excuses. She just worked.

Every once in a while, Yohan allowed his gaze to flicker toward her.

The first time, she was carefully placing a fruit into the bucket, her thin fingers trembling slightly as she moved.

The second time, she was struggling to reach the ones higher up, stretching out with effort that once would have been effortless.

The third time, she nearly caught him watching.

Yohan looked away quickly, busying himself with the carrot plots, his fingers brushing aside the dried tops left over from the last harvest. He exhaled through his nose, shaking off the moment of distraction.

He wasn't checking on her. He wasn't worried about her.

He was just making sure she did the work properly.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

The sound of fruit softly thudding against the wooden bucket was the only thing that filled the space between them. The once-serene morning had turned into a storm of silence, the weight of the past pressing against them like an unspoken force.

Yohan clenched his jaw, trying to focus on the work in front of him. He tore out old cabbage stalks, clearing the patch of earth with methodical precision. But no matter how much he tried to ignore her, no matter how much he told himself he didn't care—he did.

And then, without thinking, the words burst from his mouth like an arrow loosed from a bow.

"Why?"

Kaiya froze mid-motion, her thin fingers trembling slightly over the bucket.

Yohan turned to her, his eyes sharp, his chest rising and falling with controlled breath. "Why the hell would you do something like that?" His voice was steady, but beneath it, there was an undeniable undercurrent of betrayal.

Kaiya looked away, her grip tightening around the fruit in her hands.

Yohan scoffed, shaking his head. "You don't even have an answer, do you?" His voice was harsher than he intended, but he didn't care. "All that time, you were playing us. You were playing him." His hands clenched into fists. "Yogan—he loved you, Kaiya. And you—" He exhaled sharply, his anger barely restrained. "You stood by his side, kissed him, whispered to him, held him in your arms—and the entire time, you were nothing but a snake waiting for the right moment to sink your fangs into him."

Kaiya flinched. "I—"

"Save it." Yohan cut her off. "I don't want to hear your 'sorry.'"

Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. Kaiya's lips parted, but no words came. For a moment, it looked as if she might just turn and walk away.

But then, she inhaled deeply, her thin shoulders rising and falling, and when she finally spoke, her voice was quiet—but not weak.

"Kezin was all I ever knew."

Yohan frowned. "What?"

She looked at him now, and for the first time since she arrived, there was something fierce in her eyes—something raw. "He raised me. He was my family before the temple was." She exhaled sharply. "Do you have any idea what that means? To owe someone everything? To have your entire world shaped by them?"

Yohan's face twisted with disgust. "That's your excuse? That he raised you to be a liar? A traitor?"

Kaiya's hands clenched at her sides. "He made me strong," she snapped, and for a second, her voice carried a shadow of the girl she used to be.

But Yohan was unfazed. He crossed his arms. "Strong?" His voice dripped with mockery. "You call what you did strength?" He let out a bitter laugh. "Tell me, Kaiya—was it strength when you spread your legs for Yogan just to keep him under your thumb? Was it strength when you played with his heart like it was nothing more than a tool?"

Kaiya's face darkened with rage and shame.

"I loved him," she said, her voice trembling. "I really did."

Yohan's eyes burned. "Bullshit."

Kaiya took a step toward him. "You think I don't regret it?" she hissed. "You think I don't hate myself for what I did?" She placed a hand on her chest, her fingers pressing into the thin fabric of her robes. "Every day since that night—**every damn day—I've thought about him. About how I broke something that can't be fixed." Her breath hitched. "And it hurts."

Yohan narrowed his eyes, his voice dangerously low. "Good."

Kaiya recoiled as if struck.

Yohan shook his head. "You don't get to say that you loved him, Kaiya. Love is loyalty. Love is honesty. You didn't love Yogan. You used him." His voice grew colder. "And now, you're nothing."

Kaiya's lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes shining—not with tears, but with something deeper. Something darker.

Guilt.

She swallowed hard. "You don't understand, Yohan. You never will."

Yohan scoffed. "Then make me understand."

Kaiya hesitated, looking down at the bucket filled with fruit, at her bony hands, her frail arms—the consequence of her punishment. When she finally looked back up, her voice was quieter.

"Kezin… he wasn't just my mentor," she admitted. "He was my entire world. He taught me everything. How to fight. How to survive." Her fingers curled into fists. "How to manipulate." She laughed bitterly. "I was good at it too, wasn't I?"

Yohan clenched his jaw, but he said nothing.

Kaiya exhaled, closing her eyes briefly before continuing. "I don't expect forgiveness. Not from you. Not from anyone." Her gaze softened—just for a second. "But I swear to you, Yohan—whatever I had with Yogan, whatever I felt for him—that was real."

Yohan studied her, searching for any sign of deception.

For the first time, he found none.

But that didn't mean it mattered.

He turned away. "I don't care, Kaiya."

Kaiya opened her mouth to respond, but Yohan didn't give her the chance.

He shoved another fruit into her hands.

"Eat," he ordered. "You still have work to do."

And just like that, the conversation was over.

Kaiya looked down at the fruit Yohan had shoved into her hands, her fingers curling tightly around it. The conversation should have ended there. She should have just eaten, just done what he told her. But she couldn't.

Not yet.

Her breath came out in slow, measured exhales as she peeled the fruit with her fingernail, the soft pink flesh exposed beneath the thin skin. She took a bite—not because Yohan had told her to, but because she needed the energy to say what she was about to.

"I know you think I'm beyond saving," she said after swallowing. "I know you think I deserve every bit of punishment I've gotten." She met his gaze. "And maybe you're right."

Yohan scoffed. "You're damn right I am."

Kaiya exhaled sharply through her nose, her fingers tightening around the fruit. "But do you even know why Kezin froze me?"

Yohan crossed his arms. "Because you screwed up. Because you weren't useful to him anymore."

Kaiya shook her head, her jaw tightening. "No." She took another bite of the fruit, chewing briefly before continuing. "He froze me because I didn't want to be with him anymore."

That made Yohan pause.

His brows furrowed slightly. "What?"

Kaiya's gaze didn't waver. "I didn't want to be with him anymore. I didn't want to do what he wanted. That's why he did it." Her voice grew sharper. "It wasn't because I was useless—it was because I wasn't his anymore."

Yohan frowned, skeptical. "Oh, so now you're trying to make yourself the victim?"

"I'm not making excuses," Kaiya snapped, her voice rising slightly. "I know what I did, Yohan. But you don't understand what it was like."

Yohan let out a short, humorless laugh. "Enlighten me, then."

Kaiya's nostrils flared as she forced herself to stay calm. "He raised me, Yohan. He shaped me into what I was. For so long, I thought he was all I had. All I was supposed to be. And then I met Yogan."

She hesitated, and for the first time since they'd started talking, her voice softened. "And for the first time, I felt like… I could be something else."

Yohan's stomach twisted, but his expression remained firm.

"I still remember the first time I doubted Kezin," Kaiya admitted. "It wasn't when Yogan started questioning things. It wasn't even when Renji's coup failed. It was long before that. Before anything even started."

She clenched her fists, her nails biting into her palm. "It was the first time I realized I wanted to be at the temple. That I didn't want to leave."

Yohan stared at her, the tension between them growing.

"And Kezin saw it," she continued, her voice harder now. "He saw it long before I ever did. He saw the way I looked at Yogan. He saw the way I started questioning the things he made me do. And that's why he froze me, Yohan." She exhaled sharply. "Because I was slipping away from him. And he knew it."

Yohan's hands curled into fists at his sides.

"Are you expecting me to feel sorry for you?" he asked, his voice laced with disbelief.

"No," Kaiya said simply. "I don't expect anything from you."

Yohan scoffed. "Good. Because the damage is already done, Kaiya." His voice rose. "Do you think it matters that you wanted to change? That you thought about staying? That you had regrets?" His jaw clenched. "None of that undoes what you did."

Kaiya's breath hitched, but she didn't back down.

"I know," she said quietly.

Yohan shook his head, his anger boiling just beneath his skin. "You helped him, Kaiya. You helped Kezin manipulate Yogan, manipulate all of us." He took a step forward, his voice dropping lower, more dangerous. "You had chances. So many chances to stop. To say something. To be better. But you didn't."

Kaiya's voice rose to match his. "Because I was scared!"

Yohan barked out a bitter laugh. "Scared?" His eyes narrowed. "You think that excuses it?"

"No," Kaiya snapped. "But it's the truth. And maybe if you actually listened instead of just spitting out your anger, you'd understand that!"

Yohan's lips curled into a sneer. "Understand what? That you were too much of a coward to stand up to him?"

Kaiya's breath shuddered. "Yes."

That single word cut through the air like a blade.

Yohan stilled.

Kaiya inhaled sharply, her voice quieter now. "I was a coward, Yohan. And I hate myself for it."

For the first time, her hands trembled. "I know I'll never be forgiven for what I did. And I don't want forgiveness." She swallowed hard. "I just wanted you to know."

Yohan's heart pounded in his chest.

He wanted to keep hating her. He wanted to believe that she was just a snake, just a manipulator, just a liar.

But he had seen truth in her words.

And that was even more frustrating.

The silence between them stretched.

Finally, Yohan exhaled sharply, his expression unreadable. He turned away, shoving another fruit into her hands.

"Eat," he said again, his voice quieter now.

Kaiya took the fruit, hesitating for only a second before biting into it.

The tension between them was a storm, building with every word, every accusation thrown. The once-peaceful garden now felt suffocating, the crisp autumn air unable to cool the fire raging between them.

Kaiya clenched her fists. "I know what I did, Yohan! I live with it every single day!"

Yohan took a step closer, his voice rising. "Do you?! Do you really?!"

"I didn't want this to happen!" Kaiya snapped, her breath ragged, her thin frame trembling. "I didn't want any of it to happen!"

But Yohan wasn't done. His anger boiled over, raw and unchecked. His voice thundered through the garden.

"PEOPLE FUCKING DIED, KAIYA!!"

Kaiya's breath caught in her throat. The words slammed into her like a physical force, stealing whatever she had been about to say.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Her lips parted, but no words came.

She knew.

She knew people had died.

She knew the bodies had piled up. The temple had been attacked. Friends. Brothers. Sisters. Innocents who had nothing to do with her choices—they had paid the price.

Her voice was barely above a whisper. "…That's going to be on me."

But Yohan shook his head.

His fists clenched, his voice steady but heavy with something deeper than anger—guilt.

"No, Kaiya." He met her gaze, his eyes dark, unreadable. "It's going to be on all of us."

Kaiya blinked, her breath uneven.

Yohan took a slow step back, his hands dropping to his sides. His voice, when he spoke again, was softer—but somehow, it carried even more weight.

"It wasn't just you responsible for people losing their lives." His gaze drifted downward for a moment, before returning to hers. "It was all of us."

Kaiya swallowed hard, her throat tightening.

Yohan wasn't just talking about her anymore. He wasn't even talking just about Kezin.

He was talking about himself.

About Yogan.

About Renji.

About everyone who had a hand in what happened.

Everyone who had made a choice that led to that bloodshed.

She bit her lip, forcing down the lump in her throat. "That doesn't make it any easier."

Yohan let out a slow, bitter chuckle. "It never does."

And for the first time since the conversation began—Kaiya didn't have a comeback.

[A/N: Can't wait to see what happens next? Get exclusive early access on patreon.com/saiyanprincenovels. If you enjoyed this chapter and want to see more, don't forget to drop a power stone! Your support helps this story reach more readers!]