Chapter Text

(Book 4, episode 8)

“Thank you both. I know that this Kuvira problem is only going to get worse. But no matter what happens, no matter how crazy things get, I'll always try to restore balance.”

An unease had settled onto Air Temple Island. Acolytes and benders hustled to their chores, keeping themselves busy. With the threat of Kuvira and her army, no one could be certain if this peace would hold. And with the Avatar only just returned, healed but still unsteady on her feet, there were too many preparations to be made. Would they have to flee their home as the Earth Empire stormed Republic City? Would the young Air Nation be forced into a war?

From the gazebo at the edge of the island, Korra let the familiar crash of waves against the rocky shore lull her into a calm. But a constant fear thrummed beneath the veneer of meditation she was wearing. What if she wasn’t ready to face Kuvira again? What if she had finally found an enemy that she couldn’t defeat?

Her time in the Earth Kingdom had been lonely, and exhausting, but most of all, silent. Before she’d discovered Toph in the jungle, she’d barely held a conversation with another person. Korra had cut herself off from connecting with anyone. She’d only unleashed her anger in the fighting ring, confined her despair to her bed, in the dark corners of her sleepless nights. Alone. Internalizing all her weakness and anxiety, with no one to talk to.

But she wasn’t alone anymore. When she’d arrived home, Korra had been shocked to find herself surrounded by people who were more than ready to help carry her burdens.

She took a deep inhale of the warm cup in her hands. The delicate steam of the herbal tea mellowed the sharp sea air. A gift from Asami, who’d claimed she was worried that Korra ‘might be cold out here.’ Korra, a member of the Southern Water tribe, in the middle of summer, off the coast of balmy, temperate Republic City Bay. She smiled into her tea, watching Asami stare out at the sunset, its light reflecting off the city skyline she had helped build.

“Daddeeee!” Ikki sailed down from the sky in her wing suit, her sharp cry echoing through the courtyard.

Beside Korra, Tenzin let out an entire fatherhood’s worth of sighing. “Ikki,” he said, “What’s the matter?”

His young daughter scrunched up her face, clinging to her arms in the most dramatically pouty way Korra could imagine. “Po and Lu-Sang aren’t packing the emergency supplies right,” Ikki demanded, stomping her foot. “I told them how you said to do it, but they said they knew how to do it better than I did and you said I should supervise and I was supervising and no one will listen to me!”

“I’ll...I’ll be there in a moment.” With a resigned smile, he turned back to Korra, bracing her by the shoulders. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Korra promised. “Thank you.” Putting down her cup, she stepped forward and hugged him tight. Somehow, amid the storm of her life these past few years, she hadn’t lost her mentor. Her teacher. She’d missed Tenzin’s speeches. Reassuring her of her strength, reminding her of how much she had overcome already. Helping her focus on the task ahead.

“Please tell me if you ever need to talk.” Tenzin offered a polite smile as he backed down the gazebo steps. “Have a good night, you two.”

“Goodnight,” Asami called after him.

Leaving the girls to themselves, Tenzin trailed after Ikki towards the main pavilion, his daughter muttering angrily the whole way.

Korra found herself focusing not on the rhythm of the waves crashing ashore, but on the air between her and Asami. The hint of warmth. Asami’s gentle breathing as she stood quietly beside her. She pushed down a laugh as she watched Ikki march away with her father in tow. The girl let out another exasperated shout from the distance and broke the quiet.

“I can’t believe how much she’s grown up,” Korra said.

Ikki began gesturing wildly at the air acolytes as they passed, Tenzin apologizing for her as they went.

“She hasn’t changed that much,” Asami chuckled. “Though, while you were gone, I did teach her how to ride Naga.”

Korra’s ears perked up at that. “You didn’t,” she grinned.

Asami nodded, pleased with herself. “They have a standing date out on the foothills every few days,” she said. “Ikki has such a good rapport with the sky bison, it felt like a natural next step. It was a little rocky at first, but when I got busy at work and couldn’t take Naga out on runs, Ikki took over.”

“Good,” Korra said. “I was hoping Naga didn’t get cooped up while I was gone.”

“I think her and Ikki both appreciated getting to run a little wild,” Asami said.

With a sigh, Korra turned back to the ocean, one of the few constants in her world. The Air Temple was no longer filled with just the shouts and laughter of children. It was home to hundreds of people who Korra had never met. “The kids have all gotten so big,” Korra mused, “I probably don’t know anything about them.” The Air Nation was well and truly on its way to being restored, and Korra had missed out on so much of that rebirth. She’d missed so much of everything. “I feel like I’m gonna have to get to know everyone all over again.”

Resting her arms against the railing beside Korra, Asami gently nudged her with a shoulder. “What do you want to know?” she asked. “Ask me anything.”

Korra chuckled. “Where to start?”

“Work’s been good,” Asami offered. “It’s busy, but in the good way. Future Industries is almost twice as big as we were when I took over. We’ve bought a couple smaller companies and got more involved in the construction industry. And we’re about halfway done on phase three of the street restoration. The new overpasses are my designs.”

“I saw those,” Korra chimed in. “They’re impressive.”

“Thank you,” Asami said. Shyly. As if she’d never been complimented on her work before, which Korra knew was impossible. Asami bit her lip and studied the dark, vibrant clouds bathed in sunset. “What else…” she exhaled. “I visit my dad to play Pai Sho once or twice a week, when I have the time. I got to build a park, I dated a few people, Raiko gave me the key to the city. A few other side projects here and there.”

The slip about Asami’s love life got lodged in Korra’s brain, but she tried to push past it. “You made those wingsuits, didn’t you?” she asked. Ever since Jinora, Ikki, and Meelo had launched into the sky like a pack of winged lemurs, Korra had been dying to try one out.

She saw a flash of a smirk from Asami. “What makes you say that?”

Korra hopped up on the railing, downing the last sip of her tea. “They’re brilliant, they make the Air Nation stronger, and they keep the world safe,” she said, gently nudging Asami back. “It has you written all over it.”

“I think you know me,” Asami reassured her.

A bell rang out from the docks. The ferry signalling that it was nearing the end of boarding. Soon it would return to its slow drift back to the mainland.

Asami turned towards the sound. “It’s getting late,” she sighed. “I should get going. I promised my dad that I’d visit him tonight.”

She actually seemed happy at the prospect of seeing her father. Korra had remembered such pain between them, even before Asami had rejected the Equalist cause. Could a few years of isolation in prison have really changed Hiroshi that much?

“Do you want company?” Korra asked gently. She scratched at a patch of newly dried paint beside her. “I could go with you.”

“...Really?”

“You said that he’s changed,” Korra shrugged. “Maybe I need to finally talk to him.” She had clung to her image of Hiroshi Sato, waved him off as a zealot. A madman that Asami was better off without in her life. Korra had nearly derailed her first day back when she’d criticized Asami’s judgement, when she’d assumed that her father’s motives in reconnecting weren’t sincere. Giving Hiroshi a chance was a gesture Korra needed to make to apologize for that.

Asami studied her face, surprised at the offer, but not unhappy about it. “That would...that would be great,” she managed out with a nervous chuckle. “Of course you can come.”

Korra’s decision to run away had made their lives difficult. The time apart could have been too much for both of them. But Asami had proven she was willing to trust that Korra had believed it was the best way to get better. It was only right that Korra offer the same trust.

Stepping back from the railing, Asami turned to the chimes of the bell as the ferry rang out its last warning. It echoed off the Air Temple walls. “Let’s go catch the boat,” she said, and offered Korra a hand.

The girls stood from their seats as Hiroshi was escorted into the prison’s visitor room. It was a large plain box filled with tables and folding chairs, the light of sunset spearing through the windows. It would be night soon, and long past visiting hours.

Korra watched Hiroshi Sato take slow, careful steps, flanked on either side by guards. He had aged more than a decade since she’d last seen him. His hair had gone white, his frame now thin and lean, no doubt from a much simpler lifestyle in his cell. He certainly looked like a different person, but it was in the way that he carried himself, as well. This was a once proud man whose bluster had drained from him from time and isolation. He looked tired, like he had been trapped in a cell for a lifetime, wanton for sleep and hidden from the sunlight.

He met Korra’s eyes and held them intently as he neared the table. They hadn’t been face to face since the night in his factory underground. There had been such hate in his eyes then. Hate at Korra, at every bender. But that flame had gone out. Now, he seemed more curious than anything else.

Hiroshi returned his attention to his daughter. “Asami,” he said, his voice low and gentle. “You didn’t have to come again so soon.”

Asami gave him a warm smile. “I promised, didn’t I?”

That seemed to be enough of a reason, and he quietly sat down across from them at the table. “Avatar Korra,” he nodded.

Following’s Asami’s lead, Korra sunk to her own chair. “Hello, Mr. Sato.”

“This is unexpected. Welcome home.”

“Thank you,” Korra said. She glanced at Asami, who encouraged her with a smile.

It was progress. Civility, at least.

“I suppose we won’t be playing Pai Sho this evening?” Hiroshi asked, amused.

“Actually, I had something from work that I’d like to run by you,” Asami said tentatively. “That is, if you didn’t mind taking a look at it.”

There was a flicker of life behind her father’s eyes. He slid forward in his seat, leaning in. “Of course. I’m not sure what help I’ll be, but I’ll do what I can.”

Asami pulled a stack of folded paper from her bag and unfurled a massive page onto the table between them. Lines snaked around like street map. Arrows following a path that Korra couldn’t even begin to decipher.

“We have an assembly line rolling out next week,” Asami said. “I need to shave three to four minutes off the throughput. Production Development has brought it down by two, but at that rate, we won’t meet our orders in time. We’ve been racking my brains over this for days, but I could use a fresh pair set of eyes.”

Hiroshi slid his glasses down the bridge of his nose, examining the plan. “Let me take a look.” He studied it with a calm, reverent focus.

Asami was struggled to hold back a grin. Trying to hide how excited she was to finally catch a glimpse of her father, the brilliant inventor, the titan of industry, peering out from under the fog.

For a long while, Korra sat patiently as they sunk deeper and deeper into the details of the assembly line plans laid out on the table. Pen scratches and notes were scribbled into the margins as breakneck pace. Steps in the assembly line were shuffled and redistributed. Father and daughter rattled off words and measurements that Korra couldn’t follow.

But it didn’t matter. Though Korra had resigned herself to waiting on the side, understanding very little of what was being discussed, it was the mood between Asami and her father that was the most engaging.

Korra watched Hiroshi and his attentiveness. He was softer spoken than she remembered. He’d been a bombastic, belligerent man, hell-bent on carving out a perfect, bender-free city. A lot of that fight seemed to have left him. But the drive to problem solve was beyond familiar. With his daughter across the table, it almost felt like looking at a reflection.

“These two should switch in the order,” Hiroshi mused. He turned the plans around to face Asami, tapping feverishly on a group of squiggles. “If the galvanizing process happens first, then both pieces from step nine are prepared for assembly and will reach step twelve within a few seconds of each other. It’s a small change, but you notice it when it’s taking up time.”

“No, no, that works,” Asami said. She scratched out a few equations she’d made on her corner of the schematic and rewrote them. “And that gets us to...four minute and five off the total time.” She grinned up at her father. “My chiefs are burning oil tonight trying to figure this out for the final run-through tomorrow. If I call them now, they could implement it by morning.”

She began to slide her chair back, and Korra scooted over out of her way. Asami hesitated suddenly when she found Korra watching. Looking back at her father, she took a breath and slowly pulled her chair back in. “Sorry,” she chuckled. “I got a little excited. It can wait. I promised you time.”

“You should call them,” Hiroshi insisted. He reached out and rested a hand on hers. “We’ll wait.”

“Yeah,” Korra said. Trying her best to pretend like she understood what Asami was running off to do.

“You wouldn’t mind?” Asami frowned a little at Korra, then at her father.

Hiroshi reclined in his chair. “Of course not, sweetheart.”

“I’m fine.” Korra agreed. “Go run a company.”

That got another chuckle out of Asami. “Okay.” Her smile returned and she stood up from the table. “I’ll be right back, I promise.” Her hand darted out to Korra’s shoulder, squeezing it few playful times as she stepped away.

Fighting a warm shiver that ran down from her bare shoulder to the tips of her fingers, Korra watched as Asami headed for the door. She looked back a few times, smiling, struggling to look casual and not like she wanted to break out into a sprint after a phone.

Exhaling the shiver away, Korra found herself acutely aware of the sensation of eyes on her. Turning back, she found Hiroshi casting a glance down the hallway, before calmly studying her from across the table.

“Why are you here, Avatar Korra?”

Threading her fingers on her lap, she met his eyes evenly. “I’m here for Asami.”

“Are you worried that I’m manipulating her?” he asked, frowning. “You and I both know she’s far too smart for that.”

“She told me that you deserved a second chance.”

That hit him harder than Korra had expected. “Asami said that?” Hiroshi took a long calming breath as a slight mist filled his eyes.

Korra nodded. “And I trust her.”

After a moment to compose himself, Hiroshi leaned on his elbows, bringing his hands together on the table. “Not long ago, I read a book titled ‘Parting the Sand’. Are you familiar?”

“Never heard of it,” Korra said.

He nodded softly, his words slow and measured. “Every choice we make, every expectation we place on ourselves, every little fault and blame we cast to others, places a small weight upon us. Piece by piece, as insignificant as a grain of sand. We don’t notice each individually, but they accumulate. A lifetime of sorrow, and stress, and responsibility that we expect ourselves to handle. They are at their most dangerous, and most unbearable, when we have let them pile on top of us. The weight of each small decision, each fearful or hateful choice, builds upon our backs, and before we know it, the weight of a desert has smothered us. Do you understand?”

Korra swallowed, her voice barely audible. “Yes.”

She had shouldered so much blame. For letting Zaheer manipulate her, for not recovering fast enough, for not being strong enough to be with her family and friends. It took years for her to learn to let go of all of it, and to learn that life was almost exclusively made of things out of her control.

Hiroshi didn’t prod her further. Perhaps he saw a kindred spirit in the regret that seeped into her expression. “I never stopped grieving for Asami’s mother,” he continued. “And when last you and I spoke, I had let that grief suffocate me. My anger was misdirected, and Amon offered a blunt solution. For a long time, I was so very angry in here.” He allowed himself a small, regretful smile. “I thought you had stolen my daughter from me.”

Korra watched him trace Asami’s handwriting on the paper. All the thought and energy they had poured into it. Together.

“I hadn’t lost her,” Hiroshi managed out. His voice faltered. “I had betrayed her. Asami had found a better path, and I was not ready to listen to her. I only wanted to make her safe, and strong. But she managed that all by herself, despite my mistakes.” He straightened, staring over Korra’s shoulder. No doubt Asami was heading back in. “I regret the things I did in the name of my wife’s memory,” he said quietly. “I’m trying to earn back what’s left of my family, Avatar.”

“I think you already have,” Korra said.

Hiroshi was caught off guard by that. He met her eyes, searching them as if to be sure she was being honest. He nodded softly, silently thanking her for the kindness in her words.

There was no need to thank her, though. It was plain as day by the look on Asami’s face that she was truly happy to have her father back in her life.

“I see what you mean about your father,” Korra offered, sitting back against the hood of the Satomobile. “He does seem different.”

Beside her, Asami exhaled a smile. “I’m glad you see it, too,” she said. “Finding him again was unexpected. I really want to get this right with him.”

Out across the bay, the ferry from the mainland to Air Temple Island was already halfway through the first leg of its journey. Which left Korra and Asami at the edge of the pier, waiting for the return trip as the cool breeze of the coast lulled them into a tired, late night calm.

“I’m really happy for you,” Korra said. “I’m glad you weren’t by yourself this whole time.”

Asami gave her a shrug. “I wasn’t by myself,” she reminded her. “I had the boys, and Opal. Everyone on the island was always very welcoming.”

“And you said you...that you’d dated a few people.” Korra absently kicked at the front tire. Trying to look casual.

“I did.” Asami’s smile was kind.

“I’m sorry,” Korra said quickly. “I didn’t mean to make that sound like you shouldn’t have had...people.”

It wasn’t fair to assume that Asami would have put her whole life on hold, just because there might have been some shared feelings half a lifetime ago. Of course she had dated. She was beautiful, and kind, and daring, and brilliant. Who wouldn’t have jumped at the chance to be on her arm? It wasn’t like Korra had gotten up the nerve to say how she’d felt before she’d left. And before that, world peace had been hanging in the balance. When the entire planet was at risk, wasn’t it Korra’s job to choose the bigger picture over her feelings?

But the world would always be spiraling off towards some doomsday. There would always be bullies, and tyrants, and evil in the world. The Avatar would always be needed. Did that mean that Korra would never deserve a chance at happiness?

Her nails fidgeted against the hood. Tapping out some anxious rhythm as her brain did backflips. “I just mean…is there someone...now?”

“No,” Asami answered, staring out at the water. “Since the first letter you sent me, there hasn’t been anyone else.”

Korra managed to look up at that. More than a year had passed since she’d first managed to get words on paper. The first letter to Asami had been all pent up honesty. Finally being able to vent her fears had been a relief. But then, progress had stopped. She was afraid she was too damaged. She’d resolved to stop being a burden, to seek out her own answers. And with each letter Korra had sent, she had told more and more lies. Retreating back into that safe space where she could pretend that everything was fine.

And all that time, had Asami been waiting for her? Assuming that any day now, Korra would come home, and they could talk.

How much had Korra managed to hurt her?

“I never wanted you to be lonely,” Korra said, the words barely coming out. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Asami insisted, her eyes concerned. “I was fine.”

“I wasn’t,” Korra admitted. “There was always too much time to think. I was worried I’d messed everything up by running off how I did. I didn’t know if you’d forgive me, or...or if you missed me.”

Asami’s hand slid across the hood and found hers. “Every day,” Asami breathed.

The pulse in Korra’s ears began to pick up as their fingers slowly threaded together. Holding firm.

For a while, they didn’t speak. Just listened to the echoes of the evening. The bell of the ferry boat ringing out across the bay as it began its slow trip back from Air Temple Island. The gentle rumble of the bay ahead, the breeze off the coastline, the bustle of streets and car horns drifting in from the city behind them.

“Korra, why are we waiting for the ferry?”

She had fallen into the warmth and distraction of Asami’s hand, tracing lines with her thumb. “Hm? What do you mean?”

With a shiver, Asami clamped her other hand on top of Korra’s to stop it from moving. “You don’t normally take it,” she laughed. “Not on your own, at least.”

It was then that Korra remembered that the ferry was a half hour trip each way. She’d always been able to lap that distance in minutes. “Uh, yeah,” she chuckled, pulling her hand back self-consciously. Rubbing at her pant legs. “Sorry. Don’t know why I forgot that.” Definitely had nothing to do with wanting to stay out here with you as long as I possibly could.

Asami raised a brow, unconvinced, but her smile held. “I have a board meeting early in the morning,” she said gently.

“Shoot, that’s right. And your assembly lines. Here I am wasting your precious time for sleep.” Korra slipped off the car hood.

“Never a waste,” Asami insisted.

Korra smiled and offered Asami a hand up. She gingerly took it and together they pulled her to her feet.

“See you tomorrow?” Asami asked. She hadn’t let go of Korra’s hand yet.

“Absolutely.” Korra nodded. Her fingers slowly explored Asami’s palm, careful not to tickle her again. Every time they touched now, it felt like her skin had discovered new nerve endings. There was something so easy about this. How could something like holding a hand feel as vital as breathing?

“Thank you again for coming with me tonight,” Asami took a step into their shared space. “It meant a lot.”

“Y-you’re welcome.” Korra watched Asami’s hand drift up to her face. Heat rose up to meet it. Her skin hummed at the contact. Words caught in her chest, along with any air that was left. Korra could only stare as Asami gently leaned in to press a kiss to her cheek.

The moment lingered for a heartbeat or two at most. But Korra froze. Her eyes drifting closed at the warm, distracting softness of Asami’s skin. Her mouth. One more step and Korra could be against her. Closer.

“Goodnight, Korra,” she whispered gently as she pulled away, her breath hot against Korra’s skin. Bumps broke out in the rush of the by-all-accounts chaste kiss.

Before Korra’s hands could remember that they wanted to hold her, Asami stepped back, her smile never faltering. She must have seen the hard blush that had broken out over Korra’s face. That knowing, pleased smirk almost killed her right where she stood.

Korra swallowed hard, trying to will her face to show any emotion other than dumbstruck. “Goodnight,” she murmured.

It took a minute for Korra to regain control of her brain. She watched Asami slip into the driver’s seat, backing the Satomobile out of its place on the pier. Korra caught her eyes every so often. The last glimpses of tail lights disappearing into the traffic brought her back into reality.

Korra shuffled back a few steps. She wandered backwards towards the edge of the dock, stared down at the water. Too dark to make out a reflection. A small, insignificant thought wondered if there was lipstick on her face or not.

She couldn’t hold back the grin that had started creeping up. Her face was still warm, still thrumming where Asami had kissed her. A jolt of energy had crawled up her spine, settling across her entire body. How in the world was she going to manage to sleep tonight?

Turning on her heel, Korra fell backwards, her chest fluttering with something that could have been a laugh. Cold water surged around her as she plunged under the surface. The bay was freezing at this time of night. But it did nothing to chill the warmth that she felt in every particle of her body.

This girl.