Some people asked if I was just going to follow denim’s art or branch out at some point. As of now I’m planning on following her work, so probably only three chapters and an epilogue or something.

And the second, Asami’s concerto, is Violin Concerto No. 1 in A minor by Dmitri Shostakovitch. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4J_kyHTbQcM

Thanks for all the kind words about the last chapter!

Chapter Text

This maybe, might have been a mistake.

In the sea of tuxedos, evening gowns, and other fancy clothes, Korra knew she stuck out in her fuzzy blue Water Tribe parka. She stood at the end of the aisle and looked down at her ticket, double-checking she was in the right place. Of course my seat is smack dab in the center of the row.

Sighing, she sidled her way towards her seat, muttering, “Excuse me” and “Sorry” to the disgruntled patrons she bumped and jostled along the way. Snooty rich people. Remind me of those stiffs at Dad’s state functions. Finally she reached seat F110 and collapsed into it with a huff.

Korra glanced to the empty seat next to her, the one that should have belonged to Bolin and thought of how she got here.

Just an hour earlier she was sitting at home, anticipating a quiet night trying to write some new songs when her phone rang. Seeing the caller ID, she answered:

“’Sup Mako?”

“Korra! Are you busy tonight?” He sounded slightly out of breath.

“Not at all, is everything okay?”

“Well actually, I’m at the hospital.” Korra felt herself inhale sharply. “Grandma Yin had an accident.”

Korra relaxed, but only slightly. Mako and Bolin barely had any family to begin with, so something like this was a huge deal for them. Also, she had taken a liking to the feisty old lady, despite the fact that Korra was always dodging her endless questions of “When are you and Mako going to start dating?” and “You’re so pretty, why don’t you have a boyfriend?”

Korra didn’t think Yin would be satisfied with the honest answers to those questions.

“Oh no, is she alright? Do you want me to come over there?”

“Yes, she’s fine. She’s a bit shaken up, has a broken arm, and needs to stay here overnight for observation, but fine. Bolin is here with me.”

Now that she wasn’t so worried, Korra realized she could hear voices in the background. One that sounded like Bolin was loudly blubbering, “You can’t d-die Grandmaaaaaa! Y-you haven’t taught me how to make your f-famous eel crab stew!” and one that must be Yin responded, “Pull yourself together! It’ll take a lot more than a little fall to get rid of me!”

Korra smiled. If she had enough energy to reprimand Bolin, Grandma Yin must not be too badly hurt.

“That’s actually why I’m calling,” Mako continued. “Bolin and I need to stay here and take care of Grandma tonight.”

Korra thought she heard Yin protesting, but she knew the boys would insist.

“But, tonight is Asami’s big debut performance with the Republic City Philharmonic and we promised her that we would be there.” Mako paused. “Do you think you could go instead of us? I’d feel really terrible if none of us were there to support her, and even though you don’t know her too well, I think she’d appreciate seeing a friendly face.”

Korra snapped back to the present. She had agreed to attend the performance and basically ran out of the house without a second thought.

But looking around the extravagant concert hall, maybe she should have thought for a second. She shrunk further down in her seat and flipped absentmindedly through the program the sneering usher had practically thrown at her.

Asami. Honestly, Korra had thought of the tall, demure girl only a few times since meeting her at The Fire Ferrets’ show. She remembered her as being nice and pretty, if a little quiet, but Korra tended to think that of most girls after she’d had a few beers. Most of what she knew of Asami came from Mako. Even though he claimed he was fine with them just being friends, he had drunkenly confessed to her one night after band practice that he still wasn’t over her, and probably never would be.

Korra stopped on the page of the program that listed the musicians’ names and accomplishments. As the featured soloist of the night, Asami was allotted a larger description, along with a headshot. In it, Asami’s head was tilted slightly to the side with her long, dark hair falling in gentle waves over one shoulder. She wasn’t wearing glasses, although Korra was pretty sure she had been when she’d met her backstage. She looked graceful with her violin leaning across her chest, cradling it like one would a small child.

Well, I definitely remembered her appearance properly.

Something else on the page caught Korra’s eye. It was Asami’s last name. Sato.

Sato, Sato, why is that…wait. She can’t be?

Korra quickly scanned the paragraph next to Asami’s picture. “Winner of the Lee Prize for blah blah blah…Distinguished Soloist of the Young Republic City whatever society…and Vice President of Development for the Sato Corporation.”

Whoa.

If Mako had mentioned this, Korra certainly hadn’t paid attention. Maker of such products as Sato-mobiles, Sato-phones, even Sato-cola, The Sato Corporation was one of the biggest companies in the world. Beautiful, talented, smart, rich…man, Mako really screwed that one up.

At that point, the house lights dimmed, then blinked out. Korra pulled out her phone and switched it to airplane mode. She might not be a regular Philharmonic attendee, but she wasn’t rude.

The members of the orchestra started filing out onto the stage by section as the audience applauded. They took their seats and organized their music, positioning their instruments on laps, shoulders, and knees. The first chair oboist put her instrument to her lips and played a long, whining concert A note. The woodwind section followed the oboe, some players adjusting their reeds to tune. The same procedure repeated with the brass players, and finally the largest group, the strings.

This isn’t so different from how we tune up on stage. Just a bit more organized.

When they were finished, a hush fell over the room. Korra didn’t really know what everyone was waiting for until the whole orchestra suddenly stood up at once. The conductor, an older man with wild grey hair, walked out towards his platform at the front of the stage, and the audience stood up to clap for him. Korra hurriedly rose to her feet after realizing she was the only one not standing and clapped along with everyone else. He bowed to the audience and the orchestra bowed as well, and then they all took their places.

The conductor lifted his arms, the musicians lifted their instruments, and with a small flourish the maestro began the first piece. It started quietly with strings and flutes, with more instruments coming in here and there to add to the sonic picture.

Within a few minutes Korra started spacing out. She remembered from the program that Asami’s piece was second in the concert order, right before intermission, and she was already growing impatient waiting for the first piece to end. Patience had never been a virtue that Korra possessed.

She slyly looked around at the people listening intently on either side of her. They all seemed enraptured by the performance, and some had even closed their eyes in order to better listen to the music. Although I wouldn’t be surprised if some of these geezers just nodded off. Korra chuckled lightly to herself, earning her a dirty look and a silent “Shhhh!” gesture from her neighbor. She rolled her eyes and turned back to the stage.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like classical music. While she played rock and roll now, she had actually been classically trained in music from a young age. Her parents had gotten her the best tutors available in the Southern Water Tribe once she had expressed an interest in music. Those same tutors hadn’t been thrilled when she told them she was leaving to join a rock band. Phrases like “waste of talent” and “squandered potential” had been thrown around. So while classical music wasn’t really her cup of Iroh’s green tea, she could appreciate the skill, practice, and dedication that one needed to play such difficult compositions. But she had never felt the desire to see a classical concert in person before (and had vehemently refused when her parents had tried to drag her to one).

She just had a hard time paying attention with no words to focus on. Her mind would inevitably wander whenever her instructors had forced her to listen to long pieces at a time, and she ended up missing the point of whatever it was she was supposed to be listening for. She also found the whole attitude around classical music, and the classical concert experience, too restricting. You should be able to express your feelings at a concert, dance and laugh and have fun, not sit trapped in a chair for two hours like a prisoner.

But sit she did while the Philharmonic finished the first piece. It reminded Korra of home a little bit, in a dreamy, watery kind of way. She politely applauded at the end and watched the conductor walk off stage.

On and off, up and down, sheesh. Choose one already.

But she found herself growing a little excited anyway. Because only a minute later the conductor re-entered the stage accompanied by a stunning woman in a floor-length red gown. Carrying her violin in one hand, she walked across the stage with poise and elegance and stopped next to the conductor’s stand. She acknowledged the crowd’s hearty applause with a slow, graceful bow.

Asami…that headshot doesn’t do you justice. Not at all.

Whereas Korra remembered the Asami from a few weeks ago as slightly shy and reserved, this Asami was confident and held the attention of every eye in the room as soon as she touched the stage. She was in her element and she knew it. It was a palpable change from the bespectacled, buttoned-up girl with the ponytail Korra had met last time. She’s kind of intimidating. Korra didn’t want to admit that she kind of liked it.

The applause died down and Asami brought her violin up to rest under her chin. The conductor lifted his arms, and thus began the concerto.

The first few notes were deep and dark, led by the cellos and basses. And then Asami started playing. Her higher pitch cut through the ominous undertones, and Korra was immediately drawn in to the story her instrument was creating.

Sad, but not morose, it made Korra think of writing by candlelight to a long-distance lover that you haven’t seen in years, while a gentle snow falls outside. Or maybe saying goodbye before a dangerous journey from which your return is uncertain. She didn’t know how she had missed words in classical music before; Asami’s bow was telling her all she needed to know.

Korra watched Asami, totally in awe of the way she played with her whole body, not just her arms. It was like every fiber of her being was devoted to extracting the most perfect, poignant sounds out of the small wooden instrument. Or rather, the violin was just an extension of her body, and it was only natural for her to play it in this fashion. The orchestra provided flawless accompaniment, filling in the gaps left by the soloist’s main melody.

Before Korra knew it, they were moving on to the next movement, this one brisk and fiery where the first had been slow and moving. Asami’s wrist and fingers moved at lightning speed, sometimes playing two or even three notes at once. Korra found the breakneck pace exhilarating, and it made her head spin to imagine Asami memorizing such complicated passages. I can see where she gets her confidence.

The third movement quickly began, another deliberate, emotional one. Asami’s violin interwove flawlessly with the French horns, bassoons, and lower strings to make something transcendently beautiful. Eventually the other instruments dropped out, and it was only Asami playing on stage. Her eyes closed and she swayed along with her own playing, letting the music flow around her and guide her.

Korra blushed. There was something deeply personal and intimate about seeing someone so wrapped up in a performance this way. Rock and roll may be sex, but this was something else. This was like…making love .

Finally the orchestra came back in to start the last movement. Time had flown by for Korra in a way it never had when she listened to this type of music before. The fourth movement was upbeat and even more complex than the second one. Korra thought of her own guitar solos, and whether they would seem like child’s play to someone of Asami’s caliber. Her fingers are so fast and precise. Korra blushed again at what that could imply for…other things.

The piece amped up, growing more and more frantic, while Asami remained entirely in control. Every musician was playing with great passion and intensity as the music went faster and faster, like a runaway train continuing to gain steam. Then, at the peak of madness, with a few forceful notes from Asami and the timpani drums, it was over.

The audience erupted into deafening applause. Asami, looked a little breathless but didn’t have a hair out of place as she smiled a dazzling smile for the first time since she emerged from the wings. She shook hands with the conductor, who was also smiling, and gave a large, sweeping bow to the audience.

Korra was practically the first one to leap to her feet for the raucous standing ovation. She clapped and cheered, not caring if she was the loudest person in the auditorium. But when the person in front of her stood up as well, he completely blocked her view of the stage. Why am I always trapped behind the tallest person? She tried jumping and leaning left and right to see. She didn’t want to miss a thing, especially when she saw Asami heading off the stage. Oh shoot, is she done already?

Korra looked around and decided she didn’t care what the other people thought of her. She turned and stood up on her seat, ignoring the complaints of the people behind her. After a moment Asami returned to the stage for her victory lap. The applause hadn’t lessened for a second. Korra continued to clap and yell until she tried to take a step forward to be closer to the stage. Completely forgetting she was standing on a chair, her foot found only empty air and she tumbled head first into the seat in front of her with a loud crash. It made enough noise that the people all around her stopped applauding and turned to her to check if she was all right.

As Korra stood up, rubbing her head and assuring everyone that she was fine, she saw Asami turn her sights to the source of the commotion. They locked eyes, and once Asami recognized the clumsy Water Tribe girl, she gave her a sympathetic smile.

Korra didn’t think she’d been so embarrassed in her entire life. Blushing furiously and ignoring the pain in her head, she pushed past the curious onlookers and ran out the back of the hall. She slowed down when she reached the lobby, catching her breath on an ornate pillar. Well Korra, you’ve really done it now. Why make a fool of yourself in front of one girl when you can do it in front of an entire auditorium of people? You’re such an...

A hand on her shoulder interrupted her string of self-deprecating thoughts. She looked up, fully intending on telling whomever it was to get lost, and her blue eyes met green ones.

“Um, hi there, Korra.”

Asami had somehow managed to change clothes in the short time during which Korra had been beating herself up in the lobby. She now wore a long purple coat over her form-fitting gown, and her glasses had returned as well. She held a huge bouquet of red roses in one hand, and her violin case in the other. I should have brought flowers. That’s what Mako would have done, isn’t it?

“Asami! Uh…hey! Hi!” Korra’s voice was about two octaves higher than normal, and she gave a nervous laugh to try and cover it up.

“How did you enjoy the show?”

“You were…I mean…that was epic!”

Now it was Asami’s turn to look bashful. Clearly her reserved persona had come back as soon as she left the stage.

“Thank you very much.” Her expression turned to one of concern. “I saw what happened. Are you okay?” She tucked the flowers in the crook of her arm to lightly caress the red spot on Korra’s head that was swelling bigger by the minute. Korra had to resist the urge to close her eyes and lean into Asami’s well-manicured hand.

She waved her off instead. “Oh yeah, I’m fine.” She made a fist and jokingly knocked it on her head, wincing at the sharp pain it caused. “My dad always said my head is so hard, a polar bear dog would break a tooth on it,” she said with a sheepish grin.

Asami laughed at that, a sound that Korra liked very much. The violinist looked around the room.

“So where are Mako and Bolin?”

Oh yeah, she doesn’t even know why I’m here.

“Ah, so funny story actually, well not funny really because someone’s in the hospital…”

Asami’s eyes widened in shock at that.

Korra waved her hands around frantically. “No, no, it’s ok, it’s just Grandma Yin…”

That didn’t make Asami look any less worried.

“No! She’s not, wait. I mean, hold on let me start over.”

What is wrong with me? I never trip over my words like this when talking to girls.

Korra had to admit to herself that Asami wasn’t like most of the girls she spent time with. She didn’t like to call them “groupies,” but, well, they were groupies. Girls who saw one of her shows, somehow found their way backstage to tell her how amazing she was (okay this did sound like Asami so far but that was a total coincidence), and then wanted a “special, private tour” of the green room. Korra knew the badass musician thing didn’t hurt with the ladies, and she usually took full advantage of it (much to poor Bolin’s chagrin).

But Asami was different. She was classy, she was smart, she was…wait. I shouldn’t even be thinking about Asami like this. Focus, Korra!

Korra took a deep breath and collected herself. “Grandma Yin got in a small accident, she’s going to be totally fine, but Mako and Bolin needed to stay at the hospital and take care of her. So Mako called and asked me to take their place.” She paused and took another breath. “I know it’s not the same or anything, and you barely even know me, and you probably have like a bunch of adoring fans to go greet, so now that I’ve told you that I’ll just…”

Asami interrupted her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Korra, please. I’m happy you came. It means a lot.” The two girls shared a friendly smile.

“But that’s awful about Yin, I’ll need to go check in on her later.”

Korra nodded. “I’m sure she’d like that.”

The two stood looking at each other in an amiable, but slightly awkward, silence for a moment as audience members started filing out into the lobby for intermission. They were chatting amongst themselves, discussing the first half of the show and the weird girl who had taken a nose-dive into the seat in front of her.

Korra was the first to break eye contact. Pointing with her thumb towards the exit, she began, “Well then, I guess I better…”

“What are you doing on Saturday?”

Korra was completely taken aback. She didn’t think she could be more shocked if Bolin suddenly became a vegetarian. Asami was looking at her with an expression shy, hopeful, and nervous all at once, her cheeks tinged with red.

“Um, nothing as of right now. I was probably just going to work on some new material for the band.”

“Would you like to do something together?”

“Oh with Mako and Bolin? Sure, I’ll have to call them and see if they’re…”

“No, I meant…just the two of us.”

Oh…oh. The implication behind Asami’s words was clear this time.

Korra was completely lost for words, a rarity for her. Asami looked slightly crestfallen at her silence. She tucked her hair behind her ear and, looking at the ground, said, “I’m sorry, I’m usually not this forward at all, I just think you seem like an interesting person and I’d like to get to know you better, and…”

Korra found her rambling completely endearing. She smiled a huge smile and laid her hand over Asami’s.

“Yes.”

Asami looked up, relief flooding her eyes. “Oh, you would? Great, that’s great. I just assumed from your pause that you were going to say no.”

Korra shook her head. “I just didn’t think that you would be…interested in me in that way. You know what I mean?”

Asami looked confused.

“Well, you dated Mako.”

Realization washed over Asami’s face. She smirked.

“And look how well that turned out.”

They shared a good laugh at that. Korra’s hand was still resting on Asami’s, so she turned it in order to grasp the violinist’s hand palm to palm. Asami looked down at their joined hands, then up to Korra. Their eyes met.

“So it’s a date, then.”

Asami’s eyes twinkled behind her glasses as she firmly shook Korra’s hand.

“It’s a date.”

After the two exchanged phone numbers, Korra waved goodbye and walked towards the building’s exit. She stepped outside into the cold, clear night, feeling butterfly wasps in her stomach like she hadn’t felt in a long time. Suddenly, a thought hit her like a two-ton Sato semi truck. Oh crap. She leaned against the building’s exterior wall, covered her face with her hand, and groaned.

How the heck am I going to explain this to Mako?