The Rise of Kyoshi (Avatar, The Last Airbender)

“Without my influence, you’d turn into nothing more than a traveling peddler of favors, flopping here and there with your decisions, squandering your authority on petty boons and handouts,” Jianzhu said, unconcerned that she was losing consciousness before his eyes. “You’d end up a living party trick, a bender who can shoot water and breathe fire and spit useless advice, a girl who paints the walls a pretty color while the house rots at its foundations.”

She barely made out Jianzhu crouching down beside her, bringing his lips close to her ear. “I have dedicated my life to making sure the next Avatar won’t be used in such a manner,” he whispered. “And despite your every attempt to fight me, I will dedicate my life to you, Kyoshi.”

He suddenly ripped away the earthen gag. The rush of air into her lungs felt like knives. She collapsed onto her chest, her hands freed but useless.

For several minutes she lay there, despising each pathetic gulp she took, each time she tried to stand but could not. Finally, she heaved herself to her feet, only to see Jianzhu backing away from her, glancing over her head. A gale of wind washed them in dust and desiccated leaves.

Kelsang landed his glider on the slope and slid down on his feet the rest of the way. Relieved as she was to see him, Kyoshi knew right away that he shouldn’t have come. His wounds had reopened, staining his bandages red. He’d traveled too far on his own without his bison. The journey by glider would have been arduous for an Airbender at full health.

“How did you find us?” Jianzhu said.

Kelsang closed the wings on his staff. They’d been repaired so hastily that they wouldn’t fold completely into the wood, lumps of glue sticking out of the seams. He leaned heavily on it for support, staring hard at Jianzhu the whole time. “You left a map out on your desk.”

“I thought I locked my study.”

“You did.”

Jianzhu’s composure broke fully for the first time today. “Really, Kel?” he shouted. “You think so little of me these days that you panicked when I took the Avatar on a trip by myself and broke into my room? I can’t trust the people closest to me anymore!?”

Kyoshi wanted to run to Kelsang, hide behind his robes, and sob like a child. But fear had closed her throat and glued her feet. She felt like the slightest word from her could prove to be a spark thrown on the oil.

She didn’t have to say anything though. Kelsang took one look at her trembling form and grimaced. He stepped carefully between her and Jianzhu, leveling his staff at his old friend.

It looked much more like a weapon than a crutch now. “No one in the house could tell me where you went, Rangi and Hei-Ran included,” he said to Jianzhu. “You’re saying I had no reason to be suspicious? Where’s Yun?”

“Kelsang,” Jianzhu said, thrusting his hands toward Kyoshi, trying to get his friend to see the bigger picture. “That girl is the Avatar. I saw her firebend with my own eyes! Your hunch was correct! After so many years, we’ve found the Avatar!”

Kelsang hitched, his body processing the revelation. But if Jianzhu thought he could distract the monk to his advantage, he was mistaken. “Where is Yun?” he repeated.

“Dead,” Jianzhu said, giving up the ruse. “We tried to commune with a spirit, but it went berserk. It took him. I’m sorry.”

“No!” Kyoshi shrieked. She couldn’t let that go. She couldn’t let him twist what had happened. “You—you fed us to it! You threw Yun to that spirit like meat to a wolf! You murdered him!”

“You’re right to be upset, Kyoshi,” Jianzhu said softly. “I got so carried away with finding the Avatar that I lost my pupil. Yun’s death is my fault. I’ll never forgive myself for this accident.”

He wasn’t wailing with sorrow. That would have been too obvious an act. He kept the face that most people knew, the stoic, plain-speaking teacher.

This was a game to him. With Kelsang as the piece in the center. Kyoshi was gripped by a fresh bout of despair. If the monk believed his friend—the adult, the man of good repute—over her, Jianzhu’s crime would be buried along with Yun.

She needn’t have worried. “Kyoshi,” Kelsang said, never taking his staff off Jianzhu. “Stay behind me.”

Jianzhu rolled his eyes, his ploy having failed.

“I don’t know what’s going on here,” Kelsang said. “But I’m taking Kyoshi and we’re leaving.”

He staggered, still weak from his injuries. She caught him by the shoulders and tried to keep him upright. The only way they could keep stable was by holding on to each other.

“Look at the two of you,” Jianzhu said. “What you’re doing is you’re coming home with me. Neither of you are in any shape to argue.”

Kelsang felt Kyoshi tremble through her hand on his back. Felt her fear. He ignored his own pain and drew up to his full height.

“You will have nothing to do with Kyoshi for the remainder of your life!” he said. “You are no longer fit to serve the Avatar!”

The cut landed deep on Jianzhu. “Where will you go?” he roared, frenzied and frothing. “Where? The Air Temples? The abbots will hand her back to me before you can finish telling your story! Have you forgotten how far you’ve fallen in disgrace with them? Didn’t Tagaka jog your memory?”

Kelsang tensed into a so

lid carving of himself. The grain of his staff squeaked from how tightly he held it.