Special Chapters 2
Chapter 6.5: The Small World, The Even Smaller Figure
[???, ???]
It was snowing…
The snow fell relentlessly, each flake a delicate whisper that quickly merged into an unbroken veil of white. The cold bit at a young boy's skin, seeping through his clothes, biting at his trembling frame.
Half of his small body was buried beneath the thick blanket of white, the weight of it pressing down on him, yet offering no warmth.
???
AGE: ???
STATUS: ???
"Mom…?" the words barely made it past his lips, swallowed by the hush of falling snow.
His arms curled around himself, a feeble shield against the cold—useless, like trying to hold back the tide with open hands.
His vision blurred with tears, but through the haze, his eyes glowed—a faint, eerie light against the dim, endless expanse.
Daylight still clung to the sky, but it felt wrong. The clouds were too thick, too heavy, smothering the world beneath a dull gray shroud. No sun. no warmth. No way to tell how much time has passed.
Just the cold. Just the quiet.
Just him.
His tiny form barely made a dent in the vast emptiness around.
"MOM!"
The cry tore from his frozen throat, raw and desperate, swallowing almost instantly by the howling wind.
Snow clung to his lashes, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts, but still—he pushed forward. Half his body drowning, his limbs stiff with cold, he kept moving.
But why?
He searched. For something. For someone. For what?
The answer never came. Because, as expected from a body so small, so fragile—he didn't make it far.
His steps faltered. His breath hitched. The faint glow in his eyes dimmed, his vision swimming in a hazy blur. And then—
He fell.
Thud.
…Thud?
Not the muffled give of snow. Not the swallowing embrace of frost. No—this was solid.
Weakly, the boy pushed himself up, trembling fingers pressing against the ground beneath him. It wasn't stone, too smooth. Not tile, too clear. Not metal, too hollow.
The young boy tried to stand.
But something held him down.
A tight grip wrapped around his chest, suffocating him. A weight pressed against his back, forcing him down, pinning him to the strange, unrecognizable floor.
"Help…" he whimpered, his small hands clawing at the surface beneath him.
But instead of solid ground, his fingers slipped through something else—something cold, something shifting.
His face was wet. His breath hitched as the sound of waves crashed in his ears, deafening, filling his head, drowning out everything else.
…al
A voice.
Distant. Faint. Muffled by the water, barely more than a whisper against the tide..
You…
Again.
The words vibrated through the current, threading through the vast ocean, through his bones. It gave him no choice but to listen.
As the torrent dragged him under, the cold burned his lungs, and the pressure clamped down on his chest like a vice. His eyes stung, but it wasn't just from the water—something darker surrounded him.
Not pitch black. No comforting abyss to disappear into.
Just a vast, chilling nothing.
The voice had vanished. The presence that called him was gone.
And yet… he didn't feel alone.
A deep red bled into the water, curling around him like living tendrils. Then, from the depths, a hand shot out—clamping onto his arm.
Tight. Too tight.
Pain flared up his limb as fingers dug into his flesh like claws, crushing, threatening to rip him apart. Panic flooded his veins, and he thrashed, desperate to shake it off, to break free.
But then he looked down.
And all he saw were eyes.
A thousand lifeless, colorless eyes, staring up at him from the abyss below.
You… traitor…
The voice returned, but this time, it wasn't a whisper. It wasn't distorted. It was clear, cutting through the water like a blade.
YOU TRAITOR!
The very ocean trembled. The empty space around him quaked, and suddenly, more hands erupted from the darkness.
Clawing at his arms. His legs. His throat.
Dragging him down.
You betrayed us…
How dare you live like you've done no wrong…
Traitor.
You don't deserve to be free while the rest of us rot.
The voice crashing into him with each snare, over and over, like relentless waves, like a chorus of the damned.
A reminder.
A judgement.
A sentence.
"I'm sorry…" the words fell from his lips, hollow, automatic.
The ocean around him didn't exist anymore. The drowning didn't matter.
The guilt was deeper than any sea.
"I'm sorry…" he whispered again, weaker, his voice breaking under the weight of their accusations.
A prayer. A plea. A confession.
"Mom…"
Was he begging? Asking for forgiveness? Searching for an escape?
Even he didn't know.
All he knew was that those words—the only words he had left—meant nothing.
He drowned, he struggled, and the darkness crept up to his very being.
HUFF—!
Then he woke up.
Zhen jolted upright, his body trembling, lungs fighting for air that refused to come fast enough. His chest ached, his heartbeat a violent drum against his ribs.
His fingers clawed at his skin, gripping tight against his chest as though to anchor himself to reality.
He wasn't drowning. He wasn't falling.
His eyes darted around, pupils blown wide, struggling to adjust to the shadows in the already dark room. Everything felt distant—warped. The world was too quiet. Too still.
He sucked in a shaky breath, running a hand through his sweat-soaked bangs.
"Where…" his voice cracked, barely finishing one word.
Then—familiarity settled in. The worn walls, the low hum of the cold breeze, the faint scent of the sea outside. His small residence. His house.
Not the ocean. Not the abyss.
His breath slowed, the suffocating weight of his nightmare peeling away bit by bit. But as he shifted, something held him down.
A weight. Warm. soft.
Zhen stiffened.
His gaze dropped down to his waist, where an arm lay draped over him, muscles slack in sleep.
His breath hitched. He knew the warmth.
He turned his head, slowly, hesitantly. And there she was.
KORRA
AGE: 17
STATUS: Asleep
Korra lay curled beside him, her face peaceful at a glance—but not entirely. Even in sleep, her brow twitched, her lips parted ever so slightly, as if whispering something just beyond his hearing. She looked as though she, too, was trapped in something that haunted her.
Yet, her breath remained steady, a stark contrast to his own ragged gasps. The rhythm of her chest rising and falling was something stable, something grounded. Something he didn't have.
Zhen exhaled, still tired, forcing the tension from his muscles. Carefully, he pried her arm from around his waist.
She stirred. A soft murmur escaped her lips—words too slurred, too lost in sleep for him to catch. But as he pulled away, her expression shifted, her peaceful mask cracking just slightly.
He hesitated.
But only for a second.
Slipping out of the mattress, Zhen moved with practiced silence, stretching his arms briefly, snapping joints and tensing muscles, before reaching for a fresh shirt that hung on a wire. The cold fabric met his skin, grounding him further, pulling him from the lingering weight of his dream.
Then he turned back to her.
"Now how do I…" he muttered, glancing at Korra, still deep asleep, completely at ease in his space. In his bed.
Zhen let out a quiet sigh, crouching down beside her. His hands found their way beneath her back and legs, moving with the same instinctive precision he almost always carried.
Then, with a low grunt, he lifted her.
He expected resistance. Strain. Anything.
But instead—nothing.
'Lighter than I thought…'
For someone so solid, so strong, so immovable when awake, she felt almost weightless in his arms. It was so unnatural. Almost jarring.
Korra shifted against him, her body tensing for a brief moment, as if disturbed. But then she suddenly relaxed. Whatever nightmare had haunted her seemed to fade, her expression softening.
Her head lolled against his chest, warm against the lingering chill on his skin. Without thinking, Zhen tightened his grip, feeling the way she modded so naturally against him.
He stilled.
Then, exhaling, he stepped past the threshold of his small shack—completely ignoring the broken-down door on the ground.
'I should leave her a note later…' he thought absently.
But for now, he walked on, carrying her into the quiet embrace of the cold night.
Carrying her back to where she belonged.
Away from the place he barely even deserved.
—————————————————————————————
Chapter 7.5: Memories on Paper
[Night of the Gala, City Hall]
After a brief conversation with Zhen, the young Avatar hurried to rejoin her friends.
"There she is!" a young woman in a flowing, elegant dress waved, her smile radiant. "We've been looking for you"
ASAMI SATO
AGE: 18
STATUS: Heir to Future Industries
The young Avatar slowed her pace, rubbing the back of her neck as she averted her gaze—whether out of embarrassment or guilt, she wasn't sure.
KORRA
AGE: 17
STATUS: Avatar
"Yeah… sorry" she muttered.
"Where have you been?!" A familiar, dramatic voice cut in. One of the Ferret brothers threw his arms up in exasperation. "We were worried sick about you!"
BOLIN
AGE: 16
STATUS: Younger Ferret Brother
His exaggerated pout was impossible to take seriously, and yet, somehow, it still tugged a bit at her conscience.
Before she could respond, a more level-headed voice stepped in.
"She just went out for a breather" the older brother stated flatly. "But she's here now, so that's that"
MAKO
AGE: 18
STATUS: Older Ferret Brother
His serious tone instantly drained the humor from Bolin's expression.
"It's just a joke" Bolin shrugged, before bouncing back, throwing an arm around Mako's shoulders. "Anyway, now that everyone's here, it's time for—drumroll please—some photos!"
With infectious enthusiasm, he dragged an unwilling Mako toward the photo area. Mako let out a resigned sigh but followed along regardless, indulging in his brother's antics as always.
Asami, watching the exchange with a soft laugh behind her hand, turned to Korra.
"You alright?" she asked with a gentle smile.
She wasn't exactly worried, but there was something off about Korra's expression. At a party like this, where everyone was bright and carefree, her subdued demeanor stood out no matter how much she tried to hide it.
"Oh, yeah, I'm fine" Korra answered quickly, glancing up at her. "Just thinking… about… somethings…"
Asami tilted her head slightly, curiosity sarking in her green eyes, like emeralds. "Yeah? What kind of things?"
For better or worse, she seemed genuinely interested.
Korra, for some reason, felt a little awkward under her gaze. "Just… Avatar stuff"
"Hey! C'mon guys, hurry up!"
Before Asami could press further, Bolin's voice rang out from across the room, full of urgency as he waved them over.
"We'll be right there" Asami called back before turning to Korra. With a warm, subtle smile, she gently took Korra's hand. "C'mon, we should commemorate our first meeting"
Korra hesitated for a moment but nodded, allowing herself to be led.
As they made their way toward the camera, Bolin dramatically threw his hands in the air. "Man, it's like I'm the only one excited about this!"
"Probably cause you are" Mako deadpanned.
Despite his words, he stepped into place without making it obvious, sliding an arm around Asami's waist. Her head comfortably rested against his shoulder.
With the trio in position, Bolin took it upon himself to oversee the shot. He stood beside the camera man, squinting and framing his friends between his fingers as if he was sizing up a scene.
The exhausted photographer just sighed, giving Bolin a tired look.
"Can you all stop being so stiff?!" Bolin groaned, dissatisfied with everything.
Mako barely spared him a glance. "It's a formal gathering. How else are we supposed to pose?"
Bolin placed a hand under his chin, trying to think. "I don't know, maybe like normal people? Just loosen up a little!"
Mako raised a brow, uninterested. Korra and Asami just shrugged.
"Just… Ugh—Fine! Whatever! Take the photo camera guy!" Bolin gave up explaining, dashing over at the last second.
He wedged himself between Mako and Korra, throwing his arms around their shoulders and yanking them closer.
With a wide, toothy grin—
FLASH!
The bright snap captured everything—Mako's reluctant grimace, Korra's lopsided smile, Asami's elegant posture, and Bolin's unshakable brightness.
"See? These are perfect!" Bolin beamed, already holding a fresh copy in his hands.
The others murmured in agreement, tucking their own copies away as they debated taking another.
Korra, however, lingered on the photo a moment longer, her gaze drifting over the faces of the friends she made since leaving the South. Their smiles, their warmth—it was a snapshot of the life she was building here.
But then, her eyes caught something. Someone.
Amidst the sea of highclass guests, a lone figure stood out. A young man, out of place yet trying to mask it, his unease barely hidden beneath a composed exterior. He was caught mid-step, unknowingly passing behind them at just the right moment, forever captured in the frame.
ZHEN
AGE: 19
STATUS: Lost Again
A soft smirk tugged at Korra's lips as she huffed quietly to herself. He had been the first person she connected with when she arrived, and despite the distance he always seemed to keep, he remained the closest one she had.
Without any other thoughts, she slid the photo into the pocket of her dress, letting her fingers linger for just a second longer.
Then, just as quickly, she turned back to the group, jumping into their discussion about taking another shot.
Still, this first one—this one—she would keep close.
—————————————————————————————
Chapter 8.5: Heated Snow
[Early Morning before Korra challenges Amon, Air Temple Island]
Winter, the season where the sun's warmth feels distant, its feeble rays barely making a dent in the frozen air. Snow falls in thick, soft sheets, blanketing everything in a pristine white, but offering no comfort to those who are forced to endure its harshness.
For most, it's a time for winter festivities, for laughter on snow-covered grounds, building snowmen and sharing warm drinks.
But for those who live by the harsh reality of survival, it's simply additional work.
WHOOOSH-CRACKLE
Right now, though, our young survivalist wasn't worried about work.
ZHEN
AGE: 19
STATUS: Was Working
"Why are we doing this now, Avatar?" Zhen half-heartedly complained, his tone more tired than irritated.
Behind him, a tree groaned and collapsed, scorched through the middle where the flames had torn into it.
The young Avatar stood in a battle stance, steam hissing off her fists as the snow sizzled around her.
KORRA
AGE: 17
STATUS: Completely Done with Zhen
"Because…" she snapped, clearly improvising her reasoning mid-sentence. "You just piss me off!"
She punctuated the words with a burst of flame from her fist. Zhen pushed himself to the side with a shovel, rolling out of her attack.
"I keep telling you!" With a shout, Korra slammed both fists to the ground.
The earth beneath Zhen buckled violently. Stone shot through the snow, clamping around his boosts like bear traps. He grunted, already reaching for the straps—ready to just ditch his boots if needed.
"To quit Tarrlok's Task Force!"
Before he could even respond, Korra threw her palms upward. The snow around him thickened in a heartbeat, and ice immediately froze around the area, locking one of his hands—and the shovel he'd been holding—firmly in place.
Zhen's breath fogged in front of him, but despite the slight tremble in his body, he kept his calm.
"Can we just talk like normal people?" he asked dryly.
Korra didn't slow her pace. She cracked her knuckles with purpose, eyes locked on him like a predator closing in on its prey.
"If I have to put you down myself to stop you from going" she warned, voice low. "I'll do it"
"Please think of a better way to solve this"
Zhen released the shovel—then slammed the other end into the frozen ground with enough force to shatter the ice around it, launching the entire thing skyward.
Korra's eyes instinctively followed the arc—which was a mistake.
Zhen took advantage of that short opening.
His fingers dipped behind his back, retrieving a slim knife. One clean jab was all it took. The brittle ice webbed with cracks, then split entirely under the pressure. His right arm came free just as the cold bit deeper into his joints, just as Korra blinked and realized she'd given him that moment.
Of course, freedom came in pieces. The jagged earth still held his boots tight, too dense of the knife, too solid to break.
Korra stepped forward with an irritated calm, arching an eyebrow. "What was your plan, exactly?"
Zhen simply sighed. The familiar hum of momentum returning to his bones.
Thunk.
The shovel came back down like a gift from the sky. Whether it was instinct or blind luck, Zhen's hand snapped up and caught it clean. Without wasting his movements, he twisted his waist and swept it low through the snow. The edge slid like a blade through the snow, catching Korra's legs.
She yelped—genuinely startled—as she felt the ground vanish beneath her. For a moment, her boots kicked helplessly in the air before gravity did its work, planting her flat on her back in a puff of white.
"I actually didn't have one" Zhen admitted, almost cheerfully.
Snow billowed around them in a soft smokescreen. Zhen took the chance and drove the shovel into the frozen dirt, using it like a lever to crack the stone binds. The moment the hold broke, he launched himself backward and sprinted into the forest, boots kicking up powder in his wake.
Behind him, Korra sat up, spitting out a mouthful of snow and wiping the cold sting from her face.
Her glare could've melted ice. "Damn it!"
She launched after him, snow swirling around her legs. With a push, she took off, carving across the white ground like a missile.
Zhen risked a glance over his shoulder. His heart jumped. "Can you just calm down, Avatar?!"
She snarled and hurled her arms forward. Pillars of snow burst up around her, then rained down like spears. Zhen weaved through the trees, ducking and swerving, using trunks as shields as the barrage of frost exploded around him.
He reached a thicker tree, sprinted past it—then stopped. One hand snatched a low-hanging branch, pivoting him back the way he came. Korra, too focused on the chase, didn't notice until it was too late.
Stepping out from the other side of the tree, now armed. Zhen drew a bow taut in his hands, the wood creaking under the strain. Three arrows were already knocked, their ends aimed dead at her.
Korra's eyes widened. She skidded to a stop, crossing her arms in front of her chest just as a wall of snow-covered earth burst from the ground.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
The arrows struck, not with sharp jabs, but with heavy, dull impact.
Korra blinked—confused for a moment—as the muffled thuds echoed through her barrier. Blunt? What was the point?
She started to lower the wall.
BOOM!
The explosion hit like a cannon.
Her wall disintegrated in a bust of rock and snow, the shockwave launching her off her feet.
She twisted midair, catching herself in a crouch as she skidded back, one hand carving a trench in the ground for balance. Her breath misted in the cold as she looked up, strands of hair flicking out of her face.
She wasn't even given time to curse. That same sharp whistle cut the air again.
With a sweep of her arms, she raised an earth wall—
She couldn't even let out her frustration as she heard the familiar whistle again, seeing arrows heading her direction.
With a sweep of her arms, she raised an earth wall—then another behind it—then another. Layer upon layer of defenses stacked between her and the incoming shots.
And just like clockwork—
BOOM
BOOM
BOOM
Each wall detonated in sequence, blown apart as the chain of explosions raced toward her like thunder rolling down a mountain.
She braced behind the last wall—then silence.
Mistakably, she lowered her guard.
A faint rustle to her right. Grass shifting, snow crunching—fast. Korra snapped toward the sound, fist drawn back, fire already pulsing in her knuckles.
Something lunged from the shadows.
A log, swinging from a hidden branch, swooshed past her waist. She blinked, startled. A feint?
Well, too late.
The real sound came from the left.
Zhen came sliding in like a shadow on ice, one knee carving a white streak behind him. His bow was already drawn, creaking under the pressure. In his crimson eyes was just a cold, unshaken focus as he held his breath, like pulling the world quiet around him.
Korra reacted instinctively, twisting and lashing out with a sweeping backhand, a wave of fire erupting with the motion.
Zhen released.
The arrow flashed through the heat, its silver edge catching a glint of the pale winter sun. Korra leaned aside—but the shot didn't aim for her, it soared clean past.
Straight behind her.
Thunk
The arrow cut through a taut vine stretched between two gnarled roots.
Snap—Whirr
Ropes yanked tight. Above her, branches groaned.
Korra's head snapped up—eyes widening.
A cage dropped like a hammer, slamming into the snow with a heavy crunch that kicked up a thick cloud of white.
Fwoof~
Zhen didn't move for a minute. Just lay there, flat on his back, chest rising and falling as he finally let out his breath.
"Damn" he muttered between gulps of cold air. "That was… pressuring"
He pushed himself up slowly, limbs aching.
"Never thought I'd use this on you"
His hands shifted, and something snapped. A dull crack against his palm. He looked down to see the bow—fractured in half, the limbs split from the pressure. He sighed and tossed the broken halves aside like discarded bones.
Trudging forward, he waved through the lingering snow mist.
"Avatar?" he called, half-mocking, half-wary. "You're not sulking in there, are you?"
The air cleared.
The cage was empty.
Just snow… and a fresh hole burrowed into the ground.
Zhen's face fell.
"Oh… crap…"
The ground beneath him shuddered.
Korra burst from the earth behind him, twisting midair with a dancer's grace, landing like thunder. In a blur, she swept her arms outward and drew water from the snow around her, hurling a twisting spiral of it at him with a fierce cry.
Zhen pivoted instinctively, one hand shooting up—not to block, but to catch. His fingers clamped around her wrist just before the water hit, yanking her momentum forward. With similar fluidity as a waterbender, he dropped low, pulled her off balance, and drove her down to the ground with a thud.
He managed to pin her with all her strength. Knee between her shoulder blades, one arm twisted back in his grip, the other stomped beneath his boot. Korra writhed, but he held firm.
"So close" he said with a grin, breathless, hovering just above her ear. "Can we just talk now?"
Korra shifted beneath him, her muscles coiling for another struggle—but it fizzled out just as fast. She let out an exasperated huff and slumped against the snow.
"Fine" she muttered, sharp and grudging, like every syllable cost her pride.
Taking her word at face value—because of course he did—Zhen released her and stood.
He reached down without thinking, hand extended in offering. Korra blinked at it, then met his gaze with an unreadable look… before her lips curved into something unexpectedly soft. She grasped his hand, firm and strong, and let him pull her up.
"Look" Zhen started, brushing snow from his sleeve. "I know it's been bad the past few nights, but it could be… it could be—
His sentence fractured midspeech.
He tugged lightly, trying to retrieve his hand.
Nothing.
Her grip didn't budge.
"Uh… can you let go now?" he asked politely, the corners of his mouth twitching with unease.
That smile of hers? It shifted. What had been warm turned sharp—a slow dangerous tilt of the lips that made something primal in him sit up and scream danger.
"I got you" Korra said sweetly—and then twisted.
With the sudden grace of a predator, she spun, dragging him with her. Zhen's boots barely scraped the snow before his back his bark, her momentum slamming him against the nearest tree. One hand pinned his wrist high above his head, the other pressed firmly just beside him, like a barrier that closed his escape. Her face hovered inches from his, eyes blazing with the undeniable spark of a victor.
"Now we can talk" she said, voice rich with satisfaction.
Zhen blinked once. Twice. The snow seemed colder.
'What time does her training start again?' he wondered distantly, a bead of sweat slipping down his temple.
—————————————————————————————
Chapter 9.5: Insensitive Insecurity
[Night, Harmony District]
The night was supposed to lift Korra's spirits, a casual outing meant to bring her a little light after Zhen noticed her mood. He had insisted her out to eat at a place he knew, but as they wandered through the lively streets, he realized he couldn't see a damn thing without squinting or stumbling over his own feet.
So, naturally, they ended up in a glasses shop. Korra had dragged him inside, amused, but was getting annoyed at his obvious struggle.
However, neither of them noticed the pair of eyes watching from the other side of the street.
MAKO
AGE: 18
STATUS: Asami's Boyfriend
Mako, walking with someone, happened to glance in their direction. He froze mid-step, narrowing his eyes as he spotted the two.
"Something the matter?" The young woman beside him asked, her arms loosely wrapped around his. She followed his gaze, wondering what caught his attention.
ASAMI SATO
AGE: 18
STATUS: Mako's Girlfriend
"Not really…" he denied, his eyes narrowing. "Just thought I saw someone…"
Mako let himself be led by Asami, pushing the sight of them to the back of his mind. It was none of his business. Nothing he was supposed to dwell on.
Their night went on as planned—walking through the glowing streets, sharing quiet conversation over dinner. But no matter where he went, Zhen and Korra were never far.
At first, he ignored it. But as they wandered from one place to another, it became impossible not to notice.
When they ate, the two were sitting across from him.
When they stopped to admire the lantern-lit candles, Zhen and Korra strolled past them.
And now, as the elevator doors of Harmony Tower slid open, Korra stepped out first, with her bright smile, she ran straight toward the railing, the city lights casting her in a glow.
Mako clenched his jaw
Asami, who had been blissfully unaware all night, finally took notice.
"Is that Korra?" she questioned, tilting her head as she watched the familiar figure lean on the railing. She squinted, making sure before tugging at Mako's sleeve with a smile. "Let's go say hi"
Mako didn't move.
"I don't think we should…" he muttered, his tone flat.
Asami frowned. "What? Why?"
He didn't answer—at least, not with words. Instead, he lifted a hand and pointed away from Korra.
There, stepping out of the elevator a moment later, was another figure.
Zhen.
His posture was relaxed, his movements slow. He exhaled as he lit a cigarette between his lips, the tiny ember flaring against the cold night air.
Asami instinctively stepped back, pulling Mako with her and slipping behind the crowd.
"Oh my... Do you think they're…" she trailed off, letting hand gestures finish the thought.
Mako's brows furrowed, fully understanding. "I don't know…"
But the implication lingered. And soon enough, a different thought struck them both—someone else would be blindsided by this.
Asami reacted first, her worry evident.
"Wait, what about Bolin?" Her voice was quieter, laced with concern. "After all I said about asking her out"
She'd been his biggest supporter tonight, nudging him toward Korra after their match, encouraging him to take a chance. And now…
She turned to Mako, searching his face. "Should we just tell him?"
"No" Mako shook his head, voice colder than before. "That's something Korra and Bolin have to figure out on their own"
Asami studied Mako's face, searching for even the slightest trace of hesitation. But there was none.
She wanted to argue, to push back, to say something, but the words never came.
Because in the end, Mako knew Bolin better than she did. If he believed this was the right call, she had to trust him.
Still, something about the way he said it felt… off.
Mako kept his gaze locked on Korra and Zhen, his fist tightening ever so slightly. The logical part of him knew this was none of his business, but another part twisted deep in his chest. A quiet, nagging weight settled in his stomach, growing heavier with every passing second.
He told himself he wouldn't interfere. That it wasn't his place.
But, well…
That resolve wouldn't last past tomorrow.
Because no matter how much he told himself it wasn't his problem—no matter how much he insisted it was up to Korra and Bolin—his own stubborn feelings would never let him leave it alone.
But that?
That's a problem for another time.
—————————————————————————————
Chapter 10.5: Promise We Made
[12 months before Korra's arrival, Dragon Flats Borough]
Shlk!
The sickening sound of steel slicing through flesh echoed through the alley, followed by the dull thud of a body hitting the ground. The stench of blood hung thick in the air, carried by the wind that whistled through the narrow streets.
Around the figure, corpses lay in twisted heaps—some still twitching, others already cold.
The groans of the dying were faint now, drowned beneath the weight of death itself. But at the center of the carnage, standing amidst the ruin like a ghost in the dark, was a lone figure. A shattered mask clung to his face, cracked beyond recognition, revealing only an eye that reflected blood.
???
AGE: ???
STATUS: ???
"Merciless as ever. Leader"
But unlike normal citizens, this one did not tremble. Did not falter.
The so-called Leader didn't turn immediately. Instead, he wrenched his hatchet free from the skull of his last victim, blood trailing in slow, lazy arcs.
Only then did he glance toward the newcomer, his expression blank beneath the broken mask. "What are you doing here… Newbie"
???
AGE: 17
STATUS: Newbie
"Mask sent me" the Newbie responded, his tone as stiff as his movements. He stepped forward, indifferent to the crunch of bone beneath his boot. "Wanted me to introduce someone"
The Leader barely spared him a glance.
"Not my problem" He dismissed, his voice detached.
He turned, ready to leave the alley and corpses behind.
But then he stopped.
His gaze flickered past the Newbie, narrowing as he caught sight of a smaller figure concealed within the folds of his robe.
"You…" his voice trailed, a rare note of uncertainty slipping through. His grip on the axe tightened. Then, as realization settled in, his eyes darkened. "A child?"
It wasn't the presence of a child that unsettled him. It was the way she stood, utterly unshaken by the slaughter around her. The way her wide, hollow eyes held no fear. No disgust. No humanity.
Slowly, the Leader exhaled, expression softening as he lowered himself onto the nearest corpse.
The body groaned beneath his weight, a final, pitiful sound before it was silenced—burying a hatchet into its skull with a dull thunk. The twitching stopped.
"Closer" his voice was cold. And order, not an invitation.
The young child complied without much thought, stepping forward with slow, careful steps. She moved through the path of corpses, her gaze lingering on each lifeless body, as if carving the sight into memory.
When she finally stopped before him, she stared—not at the mask, but through it.
The Leader tilted his head, studying her in return.
Then, with an almost idle motion, he reached out, his gloved fingers closing gently around her small wrist. He lifted her hand, turning her palm upward with a gentle touch.
"Your hands are stained…" he murmured, his thumb tracing over her skin, though no blood marked them.
The girl remained silent, watching him inspect her hand as if he were searching for an answer hidden in the lines of her palm.
His eyes flicked back to hers—empty, hollow.
"Who was it?" He asked, voice quieter now. "Your first victim"
The young girl didn't hesitate. "The orphanage owner…"
A pause. Not of doubt, but of finality.
"Why?"
"She was…" she blinked, as if the answer should have been obvious. "She used her waterbending to whip the kids… sometimes sell them so she can drink…"
Her words were stripped of emotion, delivered with the brutal honesty only a child could possess.
"And I couldn't take it anymore"
There was no guilt in her eyes. No remorse. Only the cold certainty of someone who had made peace with their actions long before speaking them aloud. As if she knew—without question, without doubt—that it had been deserved.
"So why are you here?" The question was obvious. She could have gone anywhere.
The girl hesitated for the first time. Then, with a flicker of something behind her eyes—something fragile, something human—she answered.
"Cause I can't trust the benders… And I can't protect them by myself"
A plea? A cry for help? It didn't matter. The Leader only cared about one thing.
"Have you killed someone innocent?"
She shook her head. Silent. Steady. Some might have assumed she was lying, but he saw the way her fingers twitched, the way her gaze sharpened—small tells, but enough. He had his answer.
Satisfied, he gave a small nod. "We'll make sure of your family's safety. Personally"
He caught the way her shoulders eased, the way she swallowed back what could have been relief.
"But…" he continued, cutting off that fragile comfort before it could take root. "The moment you find a way to protect them without us, you leave"
The child tilted her head, confusion flickering across her otherwise blank expression. The request was simple—so why did it feel strange?
The Leader sighed, almost taking off his mask. "Just… promise me you'll leave"
Her gaze met his through the broken mask, searching—maybe for an answer, maybe for a reason. But when she found nothing, she gave a small nod.
"Go, then. Stand over there for a moment" He gestured away, his voice turning flat again. Dismissing her.
She obeyed without question, stepping aside as the Newbie took her place.
"Should I inform Mask to send some Equalists to the orphanage?"
"No" he answered.
The Newbie frowned. "Why not?"
A pause. Then, voice low, words sharp as the blade he uses—
"Because Spirits know what he'd do to a fresh supply of young blood"
"Hm… Fine" The Newbie relented with a shrug, conceding to the Leader's judgement.. "But, you're letting her join without confirming her skills?"
The Leader scoffed, rising to his feet as he slid his hatchet into its sheath. "I already did"
The Newbie raised a brow. "Oh?"
"The murder of Yulan Shelter's director a couple weeks back" his tone was casual, as if recounting the weather. "I investigated her body and the crime scene myself while undercover"
"And?"
"Needles and Knives" The Leader turned slightly, sharp eyes visible through the cracks of his mask. "Precise strike. Slow death. The work of someone who knew what they were doing. She wanted the director to die a painful death"
He started walking, stepping over the blood-slicked ground as the Newbie and the child fell into step behind him.
"She studied acupuncture" his tone was unreadable, more observation than praise. "On her own even"
A pause.
Then, without looking back, he asked. "Name?"
The young girl hesitated, then gripped the edge of his cloak, small fingers curling into the fabric as she looked up at him.
"Sera"
End