return to an earthly plane

It was the time of night when no one’s supposed to be awake when Wu found his daughter. Haruko was standing on the balcony, overlooking the republic city skyline. She was still wearing her hair combed back like she had when she was released from prison, but she had cut her hair to rest just above her shoulders and was wearing a simple tunic and training pants. Her arms and parts of her shoulders were bare, showing off not only her forearm tattoos, but the maze of scars written all over her body. Burns across her hands, a radiation scar on her chest, cuts across her entire body. Seeing how battle-worn she was made Wu feel guilty, even though he knew she had earned most of them before they knew each other.

Haruko turned to face him as he approached her, she did that a lot. Wu always suspected it was an earthbender thing- mostly because his brother-in-law was the exact same. They could somehow sense people’s footsteps on the ground from yards away, no matter how stealthy you tried to be.

“Can’t sleep?” Wu said as he offered Haruko one of the two mugs of tea he had brought with him. It was lemon ginger, which at some point Haruko had mentioned was her favorite. He hoped it still was.

Haruko took a long sip from her mug before responding. “I couldn’t if I tried. It’s all....” she sighed, a weary sigh that made her seem decades older than she was. Spirits- she was only twenty five! In the past years since assuming her role as the avatar, she had seemed to carry the weight of the entire world on her shoulders, something no one of her age should have to do. Given, Wu was a monarch at the age of twenty-five, although he hadn’t spent a whole fifth of his life in prison, isolated from the rest of the world.

“Nightmares?” Wu asked- he recalled snippets of conversations he had with his daughter years ago, where she would mention her frequent weird dreams and crack jokes about ‘avatar shenanigans’. He doubted she’d be that humorous now.

Haruko shrugged. “It’s weird, adjusting to” she gestured around them vaguely, then at the city. “This. Life in the compound was so different- it was hard to even keep track of time.”

Wu nodded, remembering what Haruko had described from her experience and what Mako had told him about his investigation of the prison. She had been kept in a ten foot by ten foot platinum cube, with no connection to the outside world but a few window grates to let in fresh air and light and a heavily guarded door with a slot to let in her daily meal of rice and bean paste. She had a bed (Haruko described being punished for setting what little bedding she had ablaze), a small lavatory, and a sink, though the water would only be on every 6 hours. Everything was platinum and bolted to the floor. And she had lived in those conditions for years.

Haruko had seemed distant since she returned, as if she had left a part of herself back there in that tiny platinum cube. Now, she gazed off into the horizon, lost in thought.

Wu put a hand on his daughters wrist. “Haruko, are you ok?”

“Yeah.” Haruko sniffled, clenching her hands around the mug. It was clear to Wu that she was not fine. Like Mako, she had a bad habit of repressing her emotion to an extreme degree. She cleared her throat. “I can’t get it out of my head. I know I’m safe now, and I’m fine, I’ve suffered worse, but every sense in my body keeps telling me that it’s not over, that I’m still there.”

Wu set his tea mug on the railing and put his arm around Haruko, who was shivering and close to tears. “It’s alright, it’s perfectly normal for you to feel that way, especially after such a long, traumatic event. Your body might be fine, but your soul can be hurt too, you need to let it time to heal. It’s only been a few weeks.”

Haruko nodded, then started to sob. Wu held her in his arms, and hummed a tune he vaguely remembered from his own childhood.

“I’m afraid of not ever being the same again.” Haruko whispered.

“Hmm.” Wu mused. “Are we ever the same person? Isn’t that your whole avatar thing, that you have to change as a person to change the world?”

“But I’m afraid of who I’ll be, I’m afraid of what I’ve lost.”

“I don’t think you’ve lost anything.” Wu started to stroke Haruko’s hair. “You’ve just changed, and change is a good thing.”

Haruko sighed and hugged Wu. “Thank you. Thank you so much, for not leaving me, for not forgetting me.”

Wu wanted to say so much, he wanted to apologize for ever letting her go, for letting her birth father hurt her the way he did, for everything and anything he ever did that could’ve led to that moment. More than anything, he wanted to hold Haruko in this moment, forever, and never let anyone hurt her like that again. All he could muster was a tearful. “I could never forget you.”

“I love you, Dad.” Haruko whispered.

For that moment, she wasn’t the avatar, keeper of peace or bridge between worlds. She wasn’t a monument of strength or a unbreakable beacon of light, she was his daughter, human and broken and flawed and beautiful for it, and he loved her more than anything.

zahrun saeed thing

It was surprising enough that they caught the perpetrator. What was even more surprising was that the man was relatively unharmed after the incident.

Which meant that the Avatar- the Avatar he had just murdered- hadn't been able to land a hit on him.

They- the 'they' in question being a small group of Zaofu's metalbending officers- had caught him on the outskirts of the city and had been just silent enough and brought just enough reinforcements that they had been able to subdue the Avatar-killer and bring him back to the city's central dome, where he remained imprisoned in a platinum cell. The man was an earthbender, and despite his apparent lack of any metalbending abilities, no one was taking any risks.

If Bolin hadn't seen firsthand what the man had done and what he was capable of, he would've thought it all unnecessary. The killer was a young man, in his early or mid twenties, he had to guess. He was no older than Bolin's own son, but exceeded even him in earthbending skill. It was assumed that he was of Si Wong origin, due to his facial features, bending style, and clothing. Since they had caught him, he hadn't said a word. They had yet to learn his name.

Bolin would never forget the man's face. Even if time and age failed all his other memories, he knew these would be the ones that stuck. Square features, a prominent brow and hooked nose, dark eyes with a fierce, angered intensity of a man who wanted to burn the world down. And the scar- oh, the scar. Someone, long ago, had carved a thick, deep line into the man's face, crossing over his left eye, nose and lip. It ran from his chin all the way up to his hairline, but Bolin didn't doubt it went further. The scar took precedence over the man's other features. It was all anyone could look at.

gays

By all accounts and measures Tala could think of, Hadiyah was better than they were.

She was smart- a logical thinker, a pragmatist, a gifted strategist. The plans she thought of and the mistakes she had caught in her teammates plans had saved their lives countless times. She was powerful- for the spirit's sake, she was the Avatar! She had mastered her native element years ago and was well on the way to completing her second. On top of that, she was Zahrun's own prodigy, the inheritor of his legacy and skill. She carried his sword. Tala knew just by watching Hadiyah bend, that she surpassed the very world in power. Every part of her was incredible- from the subtle movements of her hands to the quiet determination in her eyes to the way the scar across her lips glinted in pale, dusty light as Tala watched her, not paying a thought to what she was saying.

In short, they couldn't even dream of competing. They had thought, initially, that joining the Red Lotus would be easy. They believed in the cause stronger than anything they had ever believed in before. They were willing to put in the extra hours training their art and sharpening their skills. They had even been willing to sacrifice the life they had built for years, all in the name of a chance for change.

Of course, no one could've predicted this. The way one of Hadiyah's loose curls framed her face in such a way that it brushed at her cheek. Tala wanted to reach across the table and brush it away. They refrained.

Hadiyah glanced up, for a moment, as if she had read their mind. She quickly returned her gaze to the table, leaving Tala to wonder what she meant or what she thought.

"If Aazir, Dad and I collapse this abandoned building, it will alert the local police force." Hadiyah gestured to the hand-drawn city maps covering the table, causing Tala to remember the very reason they were all there- strategy. "Since it's abandoned, it won't cause any harm to the city's population. The police will probably still check it out because of property damage-"

"Bunch of dirty monkey-hogs hoarding unused land like it's gold." Tala heard Tehreem, another of their teammates, scoff.

"Yeah, but at least it's useful this time." Hadiyah continued. "While we're holding the cops on the east side of the river, the rest of the team should be relatively free to sneak into the archival center without much issue."

Tala saw one glaring issue with the plan. "But we'll be separated, and us without our best fighters."

Hadiyah glanced to her father- the leader of their small band and one of the alleged 'best fighters' Tala had just mentioned.

"You are all highly capable fighters. You should be able to handle one simple stealth mission on your own." Zahrun decla

babies

There were few things more exciting to watch than Si Wong-style swordplay. To Genichi, this fact was just as certain as that the sky was blue and the earth was steady. It was, by far, one of the most thrilling things he had ever seen.

Though, he had to doubt whether it was because the art itself was so full of grace and poise and elegance, or that his family was just especially adept with their blades.

His mother- Avatar Hadiyah Saeed (the Avatar Hadiyah Saeed) tended to stay grounded, only ever rising to meet her opponent- Genichi's sister, Dunya. Despite technically having all the elements to her disposal, Hadiyah stuck with her native one- earth, both because of the arena's rules (Dunya certainly wouldn't stand a chance against the full power of the Avatar) abs because Si Wong sword fighting was optimized to one element- sand.

Unlike her mother- grounded, steady, as strong as the earth itself- Dunya's style of swordplay was much more dynamic. Genichi could barely keep his eyes off her as his sister flew. He has seen flying before, of course- the way his fellow airbenders drifted on their gliders and in their wing suits, he had ridden a sky bison time and time again. He had even witnessed, once, years ago, his mother hovering mid air- suspended by the Avatar State and the sheer immensity of her power. But the way Dunya moved was different. She lifted the earth up just as she fell, creating enough cover and support to thrust herself back into the air again. It was incredible.

"Careful, Genchi, or you're going to fall down the bleachers." Genichi's other mother, Koto, warned with a laugh and gentle tug back.

Genichi obliged to Koto's practical wishes, but didn't take his sights off of the match. "Mama- how can Dunya jump so high when she isn't even an Airbender?"

Koto paused in contemplation.

hang bloodbender fic

“Thanks for coming to my lecture.” Hang smiled. “You might even learn something new.”

Hanuel gave an awkward laugh. “Yeah, though I doubt anything useful.”

The waterbender shrugged in reply. “Could be useful to you sometime, who knows. That’s why we teach it.”

Hanuel looked to the classroom door- Hang’s students had yet to enter the classroom- and to the rest of the room. On first glance, it was just a normal classroom, but Hanuel knew better. “Are you sure you should be teaching... you know? I mean what if the information falls into the wrong hands?"

“Call it what it is, it’s bloodbending.” Hang scoffed, preparing the lesson plan on her desk. “And we teach it so the information doesn’t fall into the wrong hands- so we can educate and de-stigmatize the art. It’s got tons of practical uses worth teaching, so we might as well teach it.”

“Aren’t most of those uses healing based?” From what Hanuel knew, Hang had a reputation of being a terrible healer.

The waterbender nodded. “Yeah, which is why the class I teach is called ‘introduction to bloodbending’. I teach all the legal matters and the history of the art, and the basics of how to actually bloodbend.” She tapped the red tattoo under her chin, a symbol of the acts she had performed. Even Hanuel had to admit, there was no one better alive to teach the art of bloodbending than Hang Thao.

“I’m regretting not signing up to attend one of your spirit connection classes.” Hanuel laughed. “So what’s on the agenda, teach?”

Hang scoffed at the nickname. “First hour’s the first semester kids who are still on legal issues, second hours my advanced students, they’re actually starting bending today.” She laughed when she met Hanuel’s gaze. “Don’t worry, we start on mannequins and with stance training. I wouldn’t call you here for that. By the way, could you let my students in? It’s time for classes to start.”

Hanuel stifled an awkward laugh and stood up to open the door, greeting Hang’s students with awkward waves and smiles. Most of them ignored her and got to their seats quickly. Hang took a seat in the back of the room where she could quietly observe.

Once all the students had entered the room, Hang stood up and walked around her desk to sit on top of it. “Morning, bloodbenders.” The students hesitantly echoed her greeting, to which Hang smiled. “So, if y’all remember from last week, we left off...”

“At the legality of combative bloodbending?” One of the students raised her pencil with an answer.

Hang nodded and smiled. “Yes, that was it. The one interesting topic this quarter.” Her students laughed, and she paused before continuing. “So, when we say, ‘combative bloodbending, what comes to mind- maybe the founder of the art, Hama? Notorious Criminal Yakone, maybe, or either of his sons? You might even think of Master Katara, the founder of modern waterbending, who is said to have bloodbent once or twice in her lifetime. The thing that makes all these people combative bloodbenders is the fact that they imposed their bending onto a non-consenting victim.” Hang paused to let her students write. “That right there- that’s the basis of what makes bloodbending ‘combative’- it’s no consensual. Whenever you bend another person’s body, a good rule of thumb is to ask yourself, ‘would they thank me for this?’. If the answer is no, it’s combative.”

A hand raised in the room. Hang answered it. “Yeah, Jotah?”

Jotah cleared his throat. “Combative bloodbending is outlawed, obviously, but how does that differ from medical bloodbending? Where’s the line?”

Hang paused to think. “It’s a bit tricky- you’ll get into this later with Mikah- but as I said, combative bloodbending is nonconsensual. Being bloodbent isn’t a fun experience, from what I hear, and not many people get in such intense fights that they need to use it often, so on top of being inhumane, it’s just impractical.”

Jotah seemed dissatisfied with the answer. “But one could argue that things like lightning generation or certain earthbending techniques are inhumane, and those aren’t outlawed in fights completely.”

“True, but there’s a stronger argument against bloodbending, in part because of its history. There’s a lot of good we can do with the art, but even more bad. Remember all those legal disclaimers you had to sign at the beginning of the school year?”

The students all groaned in collective, unpleasant memory.

Hang nodded. “Yeah, I have to resign those every few months as a licensed blood-bender.”

A girl raised her hand. “Will we have to get the tattoo, too?”

Hang put her hand over her chin, as if she had forgotten the red ink. “Nah, this is a personal thing. It’s for combative bloodbenders only.”

A hush fell across the students , before chaos. Hang silenced the cacophony of questions with a clap of her hands. “Remember earlier in the year when I told you I would tell you about my tattoo? That time is now. One, the tattoo is for combative bloodbending. Two, yes I’ve bloodbent that way, in fact, it’s the only way I’ve done it aside for education. Three, it wasn’t forced on me, it was a personal choice.”

A girl near the front of the class raised her hand.

“Uki?” Hang turned to her student.

“Are the rumors true? Did you-“ The girl- Uki- glanced around as if she was saying something illicit. “-kill Teijo Tanaka?”

Hang paused and furrowed her brow, before shrugging. “Legally, I’m not allowed to tell you that.”

The students erupted into a chorus of groans. Hanuel was sure she heard one of them whisper to another, “Dude, she totally did it.”

“The court records are literally public, if you all want to know so badly.” Hang scoffed, and sent Hanuel a look. “It was a pretty interesting case, from the what I hear.”

Jotah raised his hand again; but performed the action slowly. “You’ve performed combative bloodbending before? What was it like?”

Hang waited until the noise of the classroom had died down before continuing. This was a teaching moment. “Like I said before, all the bloodbending I’ve ever done is combative. I’m not a healer, and I actually specialize in education about the spirits and the forms of energy-reading. This is not my most qualified position, but I’m the only one qualified to hold it.”

The students fell silent, patiently awaiting her elaboration.

“While there are many modern bloodbenders, many, if not all of them, have never and will never bloodbend combatively, because it’s a crime and a violation of humanity. I am the exception. I can’t legally go into the instances I’ve bloodbent, nor would I like to, but there’s a reason I’m the one who teaches this class.” Hang turned to Jotah, specifically. “To answer your question, bloodbending, at its core, feels a lot like everyday waterbending, or waterbending through an object- like moving the water in a leather sack. It’s difficult to move without killing the victim, and takes a lot of effort fight against their natural reflexes, even when you’re simply holding them still.”

akari thing 1

“I just want to know why you won’t tell me anything!” Akari shouted. She put a hand over her mouth- she hadn’t meant to yell so loudly, not at Koto.

The older airbender pressed a hand to her temple and sat down. She seemed weary. After a moment of consideration, she spoke. “I’ll tell you everything.”

Akari sat down opposite her mentor. She noticed how frail Koto looked, almost sickly.

“What do you know about Hang Thao?” The air blender asked.

“Well, I know she was the waterbender on you guy’s team.” Akari started. “And she was from the Foggy Swamp tribe and eventually became its first chief. And I know that-“

“- she’s dead.” Koto finished. “Do you know how she died?”

Akari shook her head.

“A few years after Haruko died, the world was in disarray with the lack of an avatar. Hang was able to locate you, thank the spirits. She had a unique ability and a connection with the spirits unparalleled by anyone we know of, save for my mother.”

Akari nodded. She had a few memories of Hang, blurry childhood hazes more than anything. She remembered how fun the waterbender was to be around, and her laugh, which was familiar in a strange, yet comforting way.

“A few years later, when you were about five or so, Hang went on a business trip to the North Pole, to meet with the tribe leaders and investigate some strange happenings near the spirit portal. She... didn’t return.”

Koto took a breath, as if to brace herself for what she was about to describe. “She.... had been dead for a few weeks then, according to the medics. And it was definitely murder.”

“Was it a spirit?” Akari asked, noting the proximity to the portal. If an angry spirit had-

“No.” Koto stated gravely, interrupting Akari’s thoughts. “Hang was always a friend to the spirits, a messenger and an advocate. I don’t think they would’ve hurt her like that. And-“ Koto paused, her breath hitching on her words. “Spirits don’t typically decapitate and dismember their victims.”

The image Koto’s words conjured in Akari’s mind made her feel sick. “Oh. I never-“

“It’s not your fault.” Koto said.

rip hang

The last thing Hang saw was a clear blue sky above her. She tried to focus the last of her energy onto appreciating that last glimpse of the sky before the assassin’s wire fully sawed through her. It was too late to fight back, too late to grieve for herself. So, she tried to ignore the pain and appreciated what time she had left under the sky.

What she wasn’t expecting was for the ice-blue of the northern afternoon to transform into a garnet sunset above her- the spirit world, as vivid and bright as it had been in her childhood dreams. It was like a home to her, she thought she must’ve been dreaming in her last few moments of consciousness.

After a few moments of staring at the sky with no changes other than a sweet breeze of wind, Hang sat up, and took a sharp inhale. The air seemed clearer than it had, she seemed to belong here more than she ever had, her very spirit listing back and forth with the energies of the spirit world, like a ship rocking gently in the ocean.

Hang sat up- for the first time she became conscious that she was lying down, and immediately made eye contact with her long-dead best friend, Avatar Haruko.

Haruko didn’t look like she had when she died, but when she was around 35- exactly the era Hang would describe as the peak of their lives, when everything was going well for all of them. She smiled, and seemed kind, like Hang remembered. “I wasn’t expecting you to be here so soon.” Haruko said, the same bittersweet look in her eyes she had the week before she died.

Hang put her hands to her neck, to her limbs. Her arms were still attached- this must’ve been the afterlife. “I was.... uh. Murdered.”

Haruko cringed. “Ah. Yikes. Sorry if that’s because of my absence.”

Hang shrugged. “You’re dead, you can’t do much about it. I’m just glad we found the next avatar, her name is-“

“Akari Yang, I know.” Haruko finished Hang’s thoughts. Of course she would know.