No. You just thought that way because of how Jianzhu treated Yun.
“Kyoshi, they have a point,” Rangi said. “If you fall deeper into Mok’s clutches, it will taint you forever.”
That was true. If she cared at all about being the Avatar, about someday holding the office and performing its duties as Yun had already begun to do, then she had to part ways with the Flying Opera Company and their debts. Otherwise the association with criminals would mark her indelibly.
She’d be unclean.
The history of the Avatars contained rebels, enemies of tyrants, those who stood alone against the armies of the Four Nations when necessary. But as far as Kyoshi knew, none had been self-serving outlaws. Time had always proven her predecessors in the right and shown them as champions of justice.
Yun had told her that most daofei respected the Avatar. She looked at her parents’ gang and saw their swagger gone, their cloak of daring and confidence torn wide open. They’d laid themselves bare in the presence of the living bridge between mankind and spirits.
She couldn’t explain what was so familiar about this situation, nor why she felt so compelled. The Flying Opera Company was not a bunch of innocent victims like the hostages kidnapped by Tagaka, needing a higher power to reach down and change their futures. They should have been capable enough without her, just like—
Yun. They reminded her of Yun, when he needed Kyoshi beside him on the iceberg. They were her friends, and they were in a bind.
Kyoshi didn’t turn her back on her friends. She swallowed her own misgivings and made up her mind.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said. “I’m staying. And if I can help with the Autumn Bloom, I will. I haven’t gotten my end of the bargain yet.”
The gang perked up. Logically, her promise should have made no difference to them. She’d been deadweight since the beginning, only useful because of Pengpeng. But they glanced at her with wonder in their shifting eyes, the same nervousness she knew she felt when Kelsang had tracked her down for the first time and lifted her out of the dirt. You’d sully yourself with me?
“Kyoshi,” Rangi said. “Think about this to its end. The Avatar can’t be seen attacking the residence of an Earth Kingdom official.”
“As far as the abiders are concerned, I’m not the Avatar yet,” Kyoshi said. “I took the oaths of this group. I won’t abandon my sworn brothers and sisters.”
Her choice of words was not lost on them. Or Rangi. The Firebender was torn between being critical of Kyoshi’s judgment and being proud that she’d brought personal honor into the issue.
“You are not ready for anything resembling a real fight,” Rangi said. “Currently, you are this group’s biggest weakness. You’re too valuable to lose, and you don’t have the skills to defend yourself.”
“That’s a little harsh,” Lek said. Of all people.
“Hairpin’s right,” Kirima said to Kyoshi. “Currently. We have until the next full moon to link up with Mok’s forces for the assault. We can finally give you the training you were hoping for. That’s what we promised you, wasn’t it?”
“It takes years for the Avatar to master all four elements!” Rangi snapped. “And that’s with world-class teachers! I don’t get the impression that any of you have a bending lineage to speak of.”
Kirima grinned. “No, but I’ve always wanted to start one. I’m not going to pass up the chance to go down in history as the Avatar’s waterbending master.”
Kyoshi could practically hear Rangi’s blood boil. Through her mother’s side, her family belonged to an unbroken line of bending teachers who were considered some of the finest in the Fire Nation. They’d tutored members of the royal family. This plan required her to accept the shame they’d put off for so long. The most important bender in the world would have to bow to rabble.
The daofei watched the agony play out on Rangi’s face. They were highly amused. “Lighten up,” Lek said. “We’d be teaching Kyoshi to survive, not turning her into Yangchen. Consider the raid on Te’s a practical exam.”
Whatever worshipfulness Kyoshi detected earlier had completely vanished from their attitude. Kyoshi supposed she only had herself to blame, telling them to think of her as their sister instead of the Avatar.
“Speaking of Yangchen, we’re out of luck for airbending anyway,” Kirima added. “Either the two of you accept a few improvisations, or Kyoshi remains the way she is. Weak. Defenseless. A helpless, pitiable babe in the woods who can’t—”
Kyoshi aimed beyond Kirima’s shoulder and pulled a massive cube of stone out of the far side of the canyon. It went crashing down the cliff face, its corners shearing off, a die cast by a spirit the size of a city. The boulder hit the canyon floor and fractured into an army of slabs and shards that teetered on their ends before falling over flat.
Despite the noise, Kirima didn’t give the landslide a single glance. She stared at Kyoshi, impassive, unimpressed. “This is exactly what I’m talking about,” she said. “You need more than one trick in your bag.”
Kyoshi felt the evening wash by her like the wind passing through the branches of a tree. The gang was content to leave her be, for now. They chattered excitedly to themselves around the fire. The Avatar had volunteered to stay by their side. Their every move forward carried a tinge of spiritual righteousness.
Kyoshi gave it a day before the shine wore off.
Rangi was in a mood all her own. After camp chores were finished, she hopped to a different stone cutout entirely, to meditate. By herself, it was made pretty clear. They’d talked about the anguish of watching each other take risks, but neither of them had made any promises to stop.
They couldn’t. Not now.
Kyoshi watched the stars fade in and out of the sky, screened and unveiled in turn by the clouds that were as invisible in the darkness as black-clad stagehands moving the settings of a play. She was waiting for the others to fall asleep. She waited for a particular hour that belonged neither to this day nor the next, when time felt jellied and thick.