The Shadow of Kyoshi (Avatar, The Last Airbender)

“From us.” Rangi swallowed, the words hurting her as she spoke them. “Based on what you’ve told me, I don’t believe he wants to be found.”

She held up a hand to cut off Kyoshi’s protest. “Think about it. There are numerous ways he could have gotten in contact with the Avatar. He knows the sages of the Earth Kingdom. He could have left a message with them. The fact you haven’t heard from him yet is telling.”

Kyoshi could believe the nobles of the Earth Kingdom wanted to stick their heads in the sand when it came to Yun. But Rangi? How could she?

“You’re talking about forgetting him,” Kyoshi said, her breath already shortening in her chest. “Erasing him, like Lu Beifong and the rest of the sages want to do.” Like Jianzhu wanted to do.

“No, Kyoshi, I’m not. I’m talking about letting our friend come back to us when he wants to, not when we demand it. I want the people I care about to have a moment’s peace, instead of one obsessing over the other.

“You said he was healthy when you saw him,” Rangi said. “I don’t think we need to worry about his survival. Someone as talented as Yun can flourish anywhere in the Earth Kingdom. I’d stake my honor on him showing up when he’s ready, and when he does, we’ll take him to task for everything that’s happened.

“And then afterward,” she declared with the force of a fresh oath, “you, me, and him will go back to Yokoya and eat the biggest dinner Auntie Mui’s ever cooked. That should be our plan.”

Kyoshi forced a smile. Jianzhu. The teahouse in Qinchao. How Yun had escaped that infernal spirit’s clutches to emerge once more into the daylight. It might have been possible to unravel the knot—provided they were still dealing with their old friend.

The three of them together, like it was before Avatarhood severed a corner of the triangle off. She wanted the old days back, more than anything else in the world. But deep down, she was afraid of a truth the world kept pushing on her. Kyoshi rarely got what she wanted, if ever.

Rangi saw she wasn’t getting through. She decided on a different tack, coming closer with a hint of sway in her hips. “You know, the party’s not for a few hours.” Her voice grew heated and breathy. She reached out and ran her thumb and forefinger lightly over the lapel of Kyoshi’s tunic. “I have an idea how to get your mind off your troubles until then.”

A dumb grin spread across Kyoshi’s face. She leaned down so Rangi could brush her lips against her ear.

“Stance training,” Rangi whispered. Her grip on Kyoshi’s clothes suddenly turned into a grapple. In one swift motion she kicked Kyoshi’s feet wider and forcibly bent her knees into a deep hinge.

“Do you know how easy it was for me to pull you off-balance at the gate!?” Rangi yelled. “You haven’t been practicing! I thought I could trust you not to go soft in my absence, but I was wrong!”

Kyoshi stuttered in dismay. “But . . . I thought we were . . .”

“What we do without guidance defines who we are!” Rangi seemed determined to flay those months of missed exercises out of Kyoshi’s hide, one way or another. “Twenty minutes without a break, or I bust you back to square one of your training! You’ll be doing hot squats with ten-year-old Academy washouts! You want that? Huh?”

As the burning began to spread through her legs and lower back, Kyoshi grasped her mistake in coming here. Reuniting with Rangi meant having to deal with the cruelest and harshest person she knew—the Avatar’s firebending sifu.

“Lower!” Rangi bellowed.

THE PERFORMANCE

Kyoshi stepped out of the dressing chamber feeling readier for the trials ahead. She’d grown more skilled at wielding the many layers of her outfit and could pull them on without assistance now. As she entered the bedroom, she cinched her sash as if buckling down a shield.

Rangi waited for her in an overstuffed, throne-like chair. “You’ve made alterations,” she said, eyeing the sections where the colors were slightly different from her memory.

“I kept mending the original fabric, but eventually it took too much damage. I picked out new patterns I liked and had some pieces replaced.” Despite Kyoshi’s ill repute, the best tailors in Ba Sing Se had tripped over their own feet for a chance to dress the Avatar. Free advertising was still free advertising.

As she took Kyoshi in, Rangi landed on a detail that made her frown. “You kept the chainmail liner though. Made it heavier.

The comment was loaded. Kyoshi could see the thoughts running through Rangi’s head. What kind of dangers have you been putting yourself through without me? She tried to say something that might relieve her friend’s worry. “Safety first?”

Rangi sighed. “Kyoshi, it’s more than that. You’re the guest of honor tonight. You could have worn the finest robes in the world and instead you picked the same clothes you fight in. This is a small, informal reception with a handful of guests on the personal invitation of Fire Lord Zoryu. You’re not going into battle. You don’t have to be constantly at war.”

Kyoshi remembered the last time she’d let herself fully relax without a care. She could relive every detail, all too easily.

It had been a sunny afternoon in Zigan Village, made brighter for having survived and scattered the Yellow Neck menace. Her healed hands smelling faintly of herbal tincture. Kyoshi walking down the street side by side with Rangi.

And Lek.

She often wondered how Rangi felt abo

ut those days, whether their time spent with the Flying Opera Company was real or just a mantle to be cast off on the way to proper Avatarhood. Would Rangi mention the rest of Kyoshi’s bending masters during the party? Would their exploits in the daofei town of Hujiang, their illicit raid on Governor Te’s manor, make for an amusing story? Or would Rangi pretend their gang never existed? That journey certainly hadn’t lasted long in the grand scheme of things.

Kyoshi cleared her throat of a welling, thrashing bitterness. “I suppose you’re not going to let me wear my bracers then.”