“Yangchen,” Kyoshi said. “It’s you.”
/> The Air Avatar gave her a mildly embarrassed smile. Even that she shared with Jesa. It was too much, and Kyoshi burst into tears. “You look just like her,” Kyoshi sobbed. “You look just like my mother.”
Yangchen was surprised. But being the woman of legendary compassion, she knew exactly what to do. She opened her arms and Kyoshi fell into her embrace. The feeling of Air Nomad robes against her face reminded Kyoshi of Kelsang, and her bawling reached a higher pitch.
“Oh, my child,” Yangchen murmured, despite what they’d just established to the contrary. She hugged Kyoshi to her chest and stroked her hair. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you before. But I’m here now. Everything is going to be all right.”
If there was a good Avatar for Kyoshi to thoroughly embarrass herself in front of, it was Yangchen. Szeto or one of the others known for their rigid discipline probably would not have let her finish crying in their arms. They wouldn’t have let her be weak for once. Yangchen not only soothed Kyoshi with a gentle touch, but she let her take as much time as she wanted to compose herself.
“I have so many questions,” Kyoshi said, once she could sit up straight again. “You’re the first person I’ve been able to talk to about being a proper Avatar.”
Yangchen tilted her head. “Was Kuruk not able to guide you? You couldn’t have reached me without connecting to him.”
“Kuruk spent his days battling dark spirits, not—” Kyoshi was going to finish with not making any sort of impact, but that was doing the Water Avatar a disservice. Her world could have looked very different had Kuruk not made the choices he did.
Yangchen read her thoughts, a feat made easier by the fact they were the same person. “Let me ask you a question, Kyoshi. Have you ever wondered why there were so many angry spirits during Kuruk’s time?”
“I asked him, but he wouldn’t tell me. Did he provoke them? Turn them dark somehow?”
“No, Kyoshi.” The Air Avatar had no hesitation in answering, only an underlying sadness. “I did.”
Yangchen used Kyoshi’s surprise to begin her explanation. “I tried my best to nurture human growth in the Four Nations,” she said. “When people inevitably butted against the spirits, I sided with humans more often than not. The Heartwalker of Yaoping Mountain, the phoenix-eels living in the underground caverns of Ma’inka, General Old Iron. Many spirits came to me with complaints of human transgression against their territories.
“I told them they should leave the physical world alone and trust their lands and waters would be respected by the humans living nearby. And I trusted those humans to respect the balance of their surroundings. Some people upheld their ends of the bargain. Many more did not.”
The sigh she let out was imbued with a heavy guilt. “Kyoshi, every Avatar makes mistakes, and I was fairly consistent in mine. When humans violated the promises I made on their behalf too many times, the spirits turned dark and wrathful. Those were the ones Kuruk was forced to hunt down.”
“But none of that was your fault!”
Yangchen skewed her face to disagree. Kyoshi couldn’t believe the embodiment of serenity could wear so skeptical an expression.
“I gave each nation everything it wanted but only realized my error too late. People shouldn’t have everything they want. No one is entitled to their every desire. To live in balance, we must willingly decide not to take all that we can from the world, and from others.”
She glanced at the pool beside them. “My choices ultimately led to Kuruk’s suffering. The poor boy thought it was his duty to maintain my legacy and reputation. So, he did it alone, without sharing his burden. I might have done things differently had I known how much pain I’d be causing my successor.”
Kyoshi didn’t know how to respond. “I can sense you’re a little disappointed,” Yangchen said.
Not disappointed. Just confused. She had wanted desperately to meet Yangchen, the woman who supposedly knew exactly what to do in any given situation. Kyoshi had hoped to gain some insight into what her future as the Avatar held, and how she should meet the challenges to come.
Reaching Yangchen was supposed to be the end of her journey, not the beginning of fresh uncertainty. Kyoshi had come to accept the mantle of Avatarhood proudly. But how was she to fulfill her duty the right way without knowing what to strive for?
“Let this be my first piece of advice to you, Kyoshi,” Yangchen said. “There’s a thousand generations of past lives in the Avatar cycle. You could spend a thousand years talking to us, and you still wouldn’t know how best to guide the world. This is what you must forgo, Kyoshi, the easy answers. You must give up your desire for someone to tell you your choices were correct in the end.”
Kyoshi bit her lip. “I don’t fully understand, but . . .”
Yangchen read her thoughts again and smiled. “. . . you’ll keep trying anyway. That’s the spirit, Kyoshi.”
Their surroundings began to thicken, the physical world becoming dominant once more. Her past life had decided they were done for now. They could always talk again in the future. The Air Avatar might have sought to impart upon Kyoshi the importance of self-reliance, but simply knowing she wasn’t alone was an immeasurable comfort.
“One more thing,” Yangchen said.
“Huh?”
“You broke one of the sacred Air Temple relics. A clay turtle.” Yangchen flashed Kyoshi a frown befitting the powerful lady of steel who’d famously enforced a great peace upon the world. “See that you replace it. There’s only one more lifetime after yours before it’s needed again.”
Before Kyoshi could apologize, Yangchen vanished.
Kyoshi blinked. The Air Avatar’s exit was as undramatic and straightforward as the woman herself. Yangchen came and went like the wind.