#korrafic

[scythefics]

Flase Flame

Summary

Zia has spent her whole life running. From her past. From her enemies. From the parts of herself she refuses to acknowledge.

Republic City was supposed to be her fresh start—a place to disappear in the chaos, to finally be free. But staying in the shadows isn’t as easy as she hoped.

The city is on the brink of war, and no matter how hard she tries to keep her distance, she keeps getting pulled into a battle that isn’t hers.

She never meant to get involved. She never meant to stand at anyone’s side. But avoiding the spotlight is difficult when you’re teaming with the Avatar.

The past doesn’t let go so easily.

And if Zia isn’t careful, it will destroy everything she’s built—including the one person she never expected to care about. __________________________

Ao3

4.3k words __________

Chapter Three

Zia didn’t realize anything was wrong at first.

She had only just started to feel like she had a grip on herself again. Her body still ached from the wound in her side, but the dizziness had settled, and her head didn’t feel like it was stuffed full of cotton anymore. Small wins. She was taking them where she could.

She stretched a little under the blanket she’d been given, glancing around. Still in the attic, still in the Fire Ferret brothers’ makeshift living space, still stuck. Bolin was sitting cross-legged on the floor, mid-bite into a dumpling, looking entirely unbothered. Mako sat further back in his chair, arms crossed, watching with his usual unreadable expression.

Zia’s body ached like she’d been hit by a satomobile, her limbs stiff, her side throbbing in dull protest. She clenched her jaw, swallowing back the discomfort as she shifted against the cot.

Then she realized something.

Her lap was empty.

She frowned, patting the blanket beside her. Nothing.

Her satchel—where she always kept her—

Gone.

She sat up too fast, instantly regretting it as pain flared in her side. A sharp gasp escaped her as she clutched the bandages, sucking in a breath through her teeth. Her head swam. Her vision wobbled. But she did not care.

Because Ryuu wasn’t here.

Her heart pounded against her ribs as her gaze scanned the room. She checked beside her cot. She checked the floor. The rafters. The shadowy corners.

Nothing.

Ryuu was gone.

Panic shot through her like a blade to the chest.

She swallowed down the fear, forcing herself to think logically. She’d been passed out for hours. Maybe longer. Long enough for something to happen.

Had she left? Had she been taken?

No. No. She wouldn’t have left on her own. Ryuu never left her.

Zia sucked in another breath, trying to ignore how lightheaded she felt. She clenched her fists. If something happened to her—

A voice broke through her thoughts.

“Oh, hey, you’re awake!”

Zia’s head snapped toward the source.

Bolin–he had abandoned his dumpling at the sight of her waking back up. Zia ignored the way Mako’s gaze sharpened at her sudden panic. She locked onto Bolin instead.

“Where’s Ryuu?” Her voice was rough, sleep-worn but sharp with urgency.

Bolin perked his head sideways in confusion.

“Uh… who?”

Zia’s stomach tightened. “Ryuu. My fire ferret.”

Mako stiffened slightly. “You have a fire ferret?”

Before Zia could respond, Bolin gasped.

“WAIT—THE WHITE FURBALL? THAT WAS A FIRE FERRET?!” His eyes went huge, practically bulging out of his head. “I thought it was, like… a weird fuzzy scarf or something!”

Zia shot him an unimpressed look.

Bolin continued, oblivious to the way her hands had curled into fists.

“I mean—I saw it, yeah, but I thought it was, like… a really weird scarf or something? Or like… I dunno, a pillow?”

Zia’s patience snapped.

“You thought my living, breathing, moving companion was a pillow?!”

Bolin immediately held up his hands in defense. “Hey, hey! In my defense, she was all curled up on your chest! I just thought you were really attached to your fashion choices!”

Zia exhaled sharply, gritting her teeth.

Bolin immediately scrambled to his feet, searching around the room like Ryuu would suddenly appear from thin air. “I saw her, I swear! But she kinda—vanished?”

Mako, who was considerably less dramatic about it, glanced at Zia. “She must’ve run off when we brought you up here.”

That didn’t sit right with Zia. Ryuu had never left her before.

“She wouldn’t have run off.” Zia’s voice was tight, her mind racing with possibilities.

Mako raised an eyebrow. “She might have.”

“No. She wouldn’t.” Zia’s voice was sharp, certain. “She’s never left me before.”

Something in Mako’s expression shifted at that, but before he could say anything, Zia was getting to her feet, ignoring the way her legs wobbled beneath her. She needed to find Ryuu. She couldn’t lose her. She couldn’t.

“Zia—whoa! WHOA.” Bolin scrambled up, rushing to her side as she swayed dangerously. “You are like, two seconds away from face-planting, sit down!”

She shoved him off. “No. I need to find her.”

Bolin held up his hands. “Okay, okay, let’s just—back up. Breathe.”

She glared. “Bolin, I swear to the Spirits—”

“Whoa, okay! Let’s not do any swearing at the Spirits.” Bolin waved his hands like he was taming a wild animal.

A sudden chittering noise echoed from below.

Zia’s head snapped toward the ladder leading down.

Then—another sound. A familiar chirp.

She moved before she could think, practically falling forward in her rush to get down the ladder.

“ZIA—WAIT—OH MY SPIRITS, AT LEAST LET ME HELP—”

She ignored him.

Every ache, every stitch in her side, every warning sign her body was screaming at her did not matter. She needed to find Ryuu. Now.

Bolin was right behind her, mumbling something about “I swear, I turn around for one second and you’re trying to DIE again.”

They burst into the lower hallway, and Zia immediately spotted the source of the noise.

Or rather, two sources.

Her fire ferret—her Ryuu—was on the floor, happily chirping and rolling around with another fire ferret.

Zia starred.

Bolin’s eyes widened.

“OH MY SPIRITS—PABU MADE A FRIEND.”

Zia exhaled, relief hitting her like a ton of bricks.

Ryuu was fine.

More than fine—she looked annoyingly happy. She and the other fire ferret—Pabu, apparently—were tumbling over each other, tails flicking, paws batting, making little trill sounds that sounded suspiciously like laughter.

Zia finally let out the breath she’d been holding, leaning against the wall.

Bolin, however, was a different story.

“WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN?” He gasped, pointing dramatically at the two fire ferrets. “Pabu. Betrayal. You have a whole new best friend, and you didn’t tell me?!”

Zia rolled her eyes, but a small smirk tugged at her lips. “Looks like your ferret has good taste.”

Bolin clutched his chest. “I can’t believe this.”

Ryuu finally noticed Zia, bounding up to her with a bright chirp, climbing up her leg and settling onto her shoulder like nothing had happened.

Zia immediately reached up to stroke her fur, fingers brushing over her ears. “You scared the hell out of me.”

Ryuu flicked her tail, nuzzling into her.

The tiny fire ferret let out a loud, shrill chirp, her small paws pressing against Zia’s face like she was scolding her.

Zia exhaled sharply, a strange, relieved feeling settling in her ribs. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

Ryuu made another irritated sound and flicked her tail in her face.

Mako arched an eyebrow–his head peeking down from the ladder above. “She’s mad at you.”

Zia scoffed. “She gets like that.”

“YOU HAVE A FIRE FERRET.” Bolin’s voice was full of awe.

Zia gave him a flat look. “We’ve already established this.”

Bolin was vibrating.

“And she’s white!”

Zia flicked her gaze up and down him. “…Yeah?”

“I—I’ve never seen one that color before! I mean,I thought Pabu was special–I mean he is but—what—why is she so—”

“She’s albino.” Zia reached up, scratching behind Ryuu’s ear as she started to settle. “I found her as a kit and took care of her.”

Bolin’s eyes sparkled. “You rescued her?”

Zia shrugged, not offering more details.

Ryuu gave a chirp before she hopped off of Zia’s shoulders and ran back over to Pabu–the two starting their playing right back up.

Bolin clutched his chest dramatically at the sight. He looked like he might cry

 “It’s fate.”

“It’s something, alright.” Mako sighed before his head disappeared from the hatch–back to whatever he was to brood over next.

Zia, for the first time, felt something soft settle in her chest. Maybe she wouldn’t admit it, but the sight of Ryuu safe—and making a friend—made her feel… lighter.

Even if it was just for a moment.

Bolin stared between them. Then—“Oh, man. Oh, man. This is perfect. We have two fire ferrets now. TWO.”

Zia raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“And—DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS?” Bolin threw his arms in the air.

Zia blinked. “...No?”

“WE CAN DO TRICKS.”

Zia stared at him.

Bolin beamed. “LIKE A CIRCUS ACT.”

She continued staring at him.

“DUDE.”

Zia sighed. “I’m starting to think I should have let Ryuu stay lost.”

Bolin let out a dramatic gasp.

Zia just smirked, brushing past him, heading back toward the ladder. “Come on, Ryuu. Let’s go before we get roped into something stupid.”

Ryuu gave a trill before chasing after Zia and up the ladder.

Bolin ran after her. “YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND THE POTENTIAL.”

She did.

And that’s exactly why she was walking faster.

Zia wasn’t really listening at first.

It was a couple days after the Ryuu sacre–she had been lying on Mako’s cot, eyes closed, pretending to sleep while her body recovered. But then she heard Mako and Bolin’s voices—not arguing, for once.

And they weren’t talking about her.

That made her curious.

“You’re still dropping too low on the defensive,” Mako was saying, tone flat and observant. “That’s why you got hit so many times in the last round.”

Bolin groaned. “Yeah, yeah, I know. But that guy was a total tank! I swear, I put everything into those shots, and he didn’t even move.”

“That’s because you keep telegraphing your attacks.”

Bolin muttered something under his breath, and Zia cracked an eye open, glancing toward them.

The two brothers were sitting on the floor near the window, discussing something with the same intensity she had only ever seen in fighters or soldiers.

Zia raised an eyebrow. “What the hell are you two talking about?”

Mako glanced at her. “Pro-Bending.”

That meant nothing to her.

She tilted her head. “Pro-what now?”

Bolin’s entire body froze.

Slowly, slowly, he turned to face her, green eyes wide with betrayal.

Zia frowned. “What?”

“Oh, no.”

“What?”

“Oh, no, no, no.”

“What—?”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘PRO-WHAT NOW’?!”

Zia blinked.

Bolin lunged forward, grabbing her shoulders. “TELL ME YOU DID NOT JUST SAY THAT.”

Zia immediately shoved him off. “Get your hands off me!”

Mako sighed. “Bolin. Let it go.”

Bolin whirled around. “I WILL NOT.” He turned back to Zia, eyes full of genuine distress. “Tell me you’ve at least heard of Pro-Bending.”

Zia shrugged. “Never heard of it.”

Bolin gasped so hard she thought he was going to pass out.

Mako pinched the bridge of his nose.

Zia crossed her arms. “Look, if it’s some kind of rich guy sport, I wouldn’t know. I didn’t exactly grow up with the luxury of sitting around and watching games.”

Bolin gasped harder. “DID SHE JUST INSULT PRO-BENDING?”

“I think she did,” Mako muttered.

Bolin grabbed his own chest like he’d been stabbed. “Oh, my Spirit.”

Zia rolled her eyes. “You’re being dramatic.”

Bolin pointed at her. “I am about to give you the most important lesson of your life.”

Zia blinked. “... What?”

“SIT. DOWN.”

Mako exhaled sharply. “Bolin, please—”

“NO. She needs to hear this.”

Zia, for once, humored him. She folded her arms, leaning back against the wall, waiting. “Alright. I’m listening.”

Bolin took a deep breath.

“PRO-BENDING.” He threw his arms wide. “It’s only the most important sport in the entire world. Three benders—Earth, Fire, and Water—working as a team, battling against another team in the Pro-Bending Arena in front of thousands of people.”

Zia raised an eyebrow. “...Okay.”

“Each team fights to knock the other team out of the ring—either by forcing them back to the edge or over the side entirely. And let me tell you—IT. IS. GLORIOUS.”

Mako rubbed his temples. “Bolin.”

Bolin ignored him. “Matches are broken into three rounds, unless someone wins early by a knockout. And the teams? Oh, the teams. There are so many. The Rhino-Hawks, the Buzzard Wasps—”

“Wait,” Zia interrupted. “You’re telling me Republic City has a professional sport where people literally fight each other?”

Bolin grinned. “YES.”

Mako muttered, “It’s more than just fighting.”

Bolin waved him off. “Mako and I are part of a team—the Fire Ferrets.”

Zia’s attention piqued slightly at that.

“The… Fire Ferrets?”

Bolin nodded enthusiastically. “Named after Pabu.”

Zia glanced at the small red fire ferret curled up nearby.

Pabu yawned.

“Mm,” she hummed. “Decent name.”

Bolin beamed. “See? She gets it!”

Mako did not look impressed.

Zia leaned back. “And you guys… fight in this thing?”

Bolin grinned. “YUP.”

Mako crossed his arms. “We’re training for the Championship Tournament. It happens every year, and only the top teams qualify.”

Zia considered that.

A tournament where people just… fought?

And it was legal?

Weird.

She tilted her head. “Alright. I’ll bite. Show me.”

Bolin lit up.

Mako groaned.

But before he could object—Bolin had already grabbed Zia’s arm and dragged her toward the door.

“C’MON! WE’RE GOING ON A TOUR!”

Zia nearly tripped. “Okay, slow down—”

“NO TIME. MUST SHOW YOU EVERYTHING.”

Mako’s voice echoed after them. “Bolin, you do not need to give her a full—”

“YES, I DO.”

Zia sighed but let herself be led.

Her body still ached, her muscles tight from the healing wound, but… she had to admit, she was curious.

She didn’t usually let herself be.

Curiosity got people killed.

But as she followed Bolin down the halls of the Pro-Bending Arena, she found herself… wondering.

Not just about the place, but about them.

These two brothers.

 This life they lived.

 The way they acted like things were just… normal.

Zia had never known normal.

Not really.

She kept her guard up as they walked, half-expecting a trap, half-expecting this to be some elaborate trick. But nothing happened.

Bolin just… talked. Excitedly. Like he actually wanted her to be here.

That was the first thing that made her uneasy.

The second was how easy this all seemed.

The arena halls stretched in all directions, lined with rows of trophies, faded banners, and posters of past champions. Zia recognized some of the symbols from what little Republic City knowledge she had, but most of it meant nothing to her.

She listened as Bolin led her through the main halls, pointing at old banners, framed photos, and tournament brackets with childlike enthusiasm.

Zia tried to pay attention—she really did—but she was too focused on the atmosphere.

It was so different from what she was used to.

Where she had come from… fighting wasn’t a game. It wasn’t a sport. It wasn’t a thing people gathered to watch for fun.

It was survival.

You fought because you had to.

 You fought because losing meant more than just falling into water.

 Losing meant failure.

 Failure meant… worse things.

And yet, here, people cheered for it.

Zia’s fingers twitched.

She didn’t know how to feel about that.

The first thing Zia noticed about the arena was its sheer size.

The place was massive. The hallways were lined with posters, banners, and trophy cases filled with medals. Everything smelled faintly of sweat and excitement.

“This place,” Bolin said proudly, sweeping his arms wide, “is a Pro-Bender’s dream.”

Zia raised an eyebrow. “It’s a building.”

Bolin gasped. “IT’S A TEMPLE.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Here—come look at this!” He dragged her toward a display case. “These are some of the past Champions!”

Zia squinted at the faded photographs of teams holding trophies. One team looked particularly intimidating.

“The White Falls Wolfbats,” Bolin said, voice sour. “Current reigning champs. Also the worst.”

Zia snorted. “Jealous?”

Bolin gasped again. “EXCUSE ME. NO.” He cleared his throat. “...Maybe a little.”

Zia smirked.

Bolin chuckled before he led her a little further down the hallway.

“This,” Bolin said dramatically, stopping at a large framed photo, “is the very first Pro-Bending Championship team—the Red Sands Rabaroos. Look at those guys. Absolute legends.”

Zia squinted. The black-and-white photo showed three burly men standing on a circular arena platform, all wearing old-fashioned gear that looked far bulkier than the sleek designs of the modern uniforms she’d seen in passing.

“They look like they can barely move,” Zia said.

Bolin clutched his chest. “IT WAS A DIFFERENT TIME.”

Zia smirked. “Bet I could take them.”

Bolin gasped. “YOU TAKE THAT BACK.”

Zia shrugged.

Bolin muttered something under his breath but led her to the next stop.

He pointed to a huge tournament bracket, painted on the wall with bold red lines, mapping out past competitions. The team names ranged from fierce to absurd.

Zia’s eyes scanned them. “The Platypus Bears?”

Bolin nodded sagely. “They were a force to be reckoned with.”

“The Hippo-Cows?”

“Underrated, honestly.”

Zia scoffed. “And the… Buzzard Wasps?”

Bolin’s nose wrinkled. “Ugh. Them.”

Zia raised an eyebrow.

“They’re the team we lost to last week,” he muttered.

Zia smirked. “Ah. So they actually were a force to be reckoned with.”

Bolin grumbled.

Her smirk widened.

She shouldn’t like messing with him.

She shouldn’t like any of this.

And yet…here she was.

Zia looked back at the wall. The Fire Ferrets were listed on the bottom, still working their way toward the tournament bracket. She tilted her head.

“You guys think you’ll actually make it?”

Bolin perked up. “Oh, for sure. We just gotta train harder, get our teamwork in sync, and hope the refs don’t hate us.”

Zia raised a brow. “The refs hate you?”

Bolin nodded solemnly. “Last match? Mako barely grazed the foul line, and they called it immediately. Meanwhile, I get blasted off the platform and they act like it didn’t happen. Conspiracy.”

Zia snorted.

Bolin grinned, then led her to another hallway.

“This area,” he said grandly, “is where the players get ready before matches.”

Zia glanced around. The walls were lined with small locker rooms, some doors left open, revealing benches, gear racks, and faded posters of past benders. The air smelled like sweat and old leather.

Bolin pointed to a specific door. “That one’s ours.”

Zia peeked inside.

It was surprisingly plain. Just a couple of benches, a rack of red and black Fire Ferret uniforms, and some worn-down training equipment.

Bolin gestured proudly. “Our kingdom.”

Zia wrinkled her nose. “Your kingdom smells like sweaty socks.”

Bolin ignored her.

“Not bad, huh?”

Zia raised an eyebrow. “Looks like a closet.”

Bolin huffed. “It has character.”

Zia leaned against the doorframe. “So what, you just get dressed, walk out, and fight?”

“Pretty much.”

Zia hummed. “Sounds simple.”

Bolin smirked. “Sounds easy. But it’s not.”

She tilted her head.

Bolin leaned in slightly. “Pro-Bending’s not just about throwing punches. It’s about strategy. It’s about movement, timing—knowing when to strike and when to dodge. One wrong move, and you’re in the water.”

Zia blinked.

Bolin smiled. “You’d love it.”

Zia wasn’t so sure about that. But she let it slide.

He walked over to the uniforms, grabbing one off the rack and spinning toward her.

“This… is the legendary Fire Ferret uniform.”

Zia snorted. “Legendary?”

“YES,” Bolin insisted. “Worn by the bravest of warriors. The most fearless of fighters. The—”

“—Most sweaty of athletes?”

Bolin paused. Then nodded. “That too.”

Zia smirked.

She shouldn’t be enjoying this.

But she was.

And that scared her.

Bolin led her through the last set of doors, and the space opened up into the massive, circular battlefield.

Zia took a slow breath.

The ring stretched before her, battle-worn and cracked from years of fights.

Rows of towering seats circled the platform, floodlights casting sharp shadows against the smooth stone. The blue water moat surrounding the stage reflected the glow, rippling gently under the stillness.

It felt… alive.

“This is where the real magic happens.”

Zia inhaled.

For the first time, she understood why Bolin spoke about this place like it was holy.

She wouldn’t admit it, but—

It was impressive.

Bolin, watching her reaction closely, grinned.

“Cool, huh?”

Zia shrugged. “It’s alright.”

Bolin snorted. “Pfft. Please. You’re totally impressed.”

Zia rolled her eyes.

Bolin walked forward, arms wide. “This is where all the best matches happen. People screaming, bending flying—it’s electric.”

Zia followed him, leaning against the railing. Her boots made a soft tap against the stone. She looked up at the seats.

Imagined them full.

Imagined the crowd screaming.

The thought made something inside her twist.

She had never fought with that many eyes watching her.

She had never fought for the fun of it.

She didn’t like the idea of it.

Fighting was supposed to be quick.

Efficient.

Necessary.

This wasn’t necessary.

This was a game.

She didn’t understand it.

And that made her uncomfortable.

Bolin pointed to the edge. “That’s the knockout zone. Once you get blasted off the main ring, it’s game over.”

Zia crossed her arms. “So, let me get this straight. You stand here, throw fire, rocks, and water at each other, and try to not die.”

Bolin grinned. “Now you’re getting it.”

Zia smirked. “Sounds fun.” She lied.

Bolin lit up. “RIGHT?!”

Zia chuckled, shaking her head.

Bolin watched her reaction.

He grinned. “Cool, huh?”

Zia forced a shrug. “It’s alright.”

Bolin snorted. “Pfft. Please. You’re totally impressed.”

Zia rolled her eyes.

But she didn’t deny it.

Zia watched the way he talked about it.

The way his eyes lit up.

The way his voice changed.

Like this wasn’t just a sport.

Like this wasn’t just a game.

Like this was… home.

Zia swallowed.

She had never had a home.

She didn’t know what it felt like.

But for the first time, standing here, in a place she had no business being, surrounded by people she had no business trusting…

She wondered if this was what it was like.

She looked at Bolin.

At the way he grinned so easily.

At the way he welcomed her into his world without hesitation.

She didn’t understand it.

People didn’t just trust so easily. Not without an angle. Not without leverage.

People didn’t just give without expecting something in return.

At least, not the ones she had known.

But Bolin hadn’t asked for anything..

Not demanded answers.

Just… existing.

Just being good.

Zia clenched her fists.

She didn’t know what to do with that.

Bolin snapped her out of her thoughts by gesturing for her to continue to follow. There was so much to this place, it felt almost endless.

They continued walking. Bolin pointed out training rooms, locker rooms, even a repair shop for gear.

Then—he slowed.

He gestured toward a small hallway off to the side.

“That,” he said, quieter now, “is where Mako and I slept for a while.”

Zia turned to him, her steps slowing.

Bolin rubbed the back of his neck. “We… kinda grew up here. Not, like, officially. But this place was a home for a long time. The owner, Toza? He let us stay when we had nowhere else.”

Zia watched him carefully.

She wasn’t expecting him to open up.

It should’ve been uncomfortable.

Instead… she understood.

She turned away. “...Must be nice.”

Bolin smiled, but there was something softer about it now. “Yeah. It is.”

They kept walking.

Zia didn’t say it out loud.

But she was starting to think—maybe, just maybe—she didn’t mind sticking around.

They walked in silence for a little while, their footsteps echoing against the smooth floors. It wasn’t awkward, not really, but there was something unspoken lingering in the air. Zia could still feel the weight of Bolin’s words, of the quiet honesty in his voice when he talked about the arena like it was more than just a place—it was a piece of his life. A home.

She shouldn’t relate.

But she did.

She had never had a place like that. Not really. Nowhere she could return to. Nowhere she could let her guard down.

A home wasn’t something you just found. It was something you lost.

Bolin must have noticed her shift in energy, because he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “You’re a really quiet person, huh?”

Zia snorted. “You just talk too much.”

He gasped, dramatic and wounded. “Rude.”

She smirked. “Not denying it, though.”

Bolin grinned, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Alright, fine. Maybe I like to talk. But only because I have interesting things to say.”

Zia arched a brow. “Like what?”

“Like—” He spun on his heels, walking backward in front of her. “Did you know that Toza used to be a pro-bender himself? Like, a really big deal? Back in the day, he was one of the best earthbenders in the league.”

Zia blinked. “Huh.”

Bolin beamed. “See? Interesting.”

“I’ll give you ‘moderately informative.’”

“Oh, come on.” He shot her a look before turning back around, leading her toward another hall. “I’m trying to educate you here.”

Zia hummed. “Oh, great. A history lesson.”

He pointed at her. “You mock, but history is very important.”

She rolled her eyes but let him keep talking.

They passed another set of doors, and Bolin continued pointing things out—the weight room, the maintenance corridors, the best spots to sneak in and watch matches if you didn’t have a ticket.

Zia absorbed the information without really meaning to.

She shouldn’t care.

She shouldn’t listen.

But… it was kind of nice.

Bolin nudged her. “So, you gonna tell me something about you now?”

Zia tensed slightly. “No.”

Bolin pouted. “Not even a little thing?”

Zia sighed, shoving her hands in her pockets. “There’s nothing to tell.”

He tilted his head, unconvinced. “Everyone’s got something.”

Zia glanced away. “Not me.”

Bolin was quiet for a moment. Then—he nodded, surprisingly accepting.

“Okay.”

She looked back at him.

He just smiled, easygoing as ever. “You don’t have to say anything. But I’ll be here to listen when you do.”

Zia didn’t know what to do with that.

She’d met a lot of people in her life. Most of them wanted something. Most of them only listened so they could twist her words, use them against her.

But Bolin…

He didn’t seem to expect anything.

And that?

That was new.

She didn’t respond, but she didn’t scoff at him either.

They kept walking.

And for the first time in a long time…

Zia didn’t feel like she was walking alone.

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[jryansimon]

[kuno-chan]

Concept for a homework assignment. Tianmei, the witch from my fic, Sea of Chains. #kainora #doodleoftheday #legendofkorra #korrafic

[theaights]

just yesterday

mako and korra labeling their relationship 

_______

"there you are !" says korra waving to mako .she walks up to the meditation gazebo and sits on the railing next to him.mako smiles and inches closer.

"crazy isnt it?it seems like only yeasterday,we were fighting off amon" she closes her eyes and shakes her head in reminiscence and disbelief .  

"korra?" 

"hmmm?"  she lifts her head  looking up to him ,her eyes smiling. 

"it was yesterday.." says mako lifting a brow.

"its a joke mako!" korra states obviously.then sighs

"is there a reason why youre so giddy" he asks even though he knows the answer.

"i just cant believe all this is happening,everything went by so fast i defeated amon,lost my bending , got it back,unlocked my airbending!not to mention!i finally got in touch with my past lives!all this in one day!!"korra sighs again "i just feel....happy" .mako cant help to feel a little dissapointed that she neglected to menchon him in her list of achievements.

but then he takes a look at her all fidgity , eyes are scanning every inch of the floor  trying to avoid him. lips opening to say something then closing again in cancellation  .

"i, uuh..we..i.it."she begins.a faint blush creeping  its up her cheeks

"it doesnt hurt to gain a boyfriend along the way?" he finishes for her.

"boyfriend?" .they never really labeled it, till now

mako face palms himself "oh sorry, boyfriends are what we city folks call-" korra smaks  him on the shoulder "i know what boyfrinds are" 

mako laughs.

"so,if youre my boyfriend,that makes me.."

"my girlfriend yes,that is usually the way it goes"

"you know" korra says in a hushed voice ,"i heard that boyfriends and girlfriends usually kiss each other,kind of a rule.."she whispers closing her eyes and parting her lips just a little.

"oh yeah" says mako ,leaning in"very big rule" .

[smollsmols]

We're All We've Got

Prompt: Just an idea that's been floating around my head. the prompt from my mind was "the nightmares were terrible."

A/N: We've never really gotten to know how much Bolin's run-in with Amon affected him. We only get the mention that he's had nightmares too...so, here is my take on those aforementioned nightmares. It's not very long, but I just had to get the idea out of my head so I could go back to working on story requests. I hope you enjoy.

~~~~

Some nights there was screaming. Screams that would pierce the soul. Some nights there was crying. But, every night, Bolin would wake up in a cold sweat. He would sit in his bed, shaking violently, with his head in his heads, willing the images in his mind to leave him be.

Mako was always there to try and comfort him. He never asked about the dreams, but he had a good idea of what they were about. He would just sit on Bolin’s bed and hold his shaking brother in his arms. He never really knew what to say, so he was usually stuck in a cycle of repeating “Shh, Bolin, shh. It’ll be okay. It’ll all be okay” until his brother had stopped shaking. He knew it didn’t really matter what he said, it was just Mako’s presence that Bolin needed. But Mako always felt the need to say something to his brother.

Often, Mako was able to calm Bolin down enough to allow him to go back to sleep, though it was usually still a fitful one. Despite all of his efforts, however, Mako knew he was never going to be able to make his brother’s nightmares go away for good. He just didn’t have that power.

The nightmares were always the same. Bolin would be standing on a stage bound like a prisoner and surrounded by a thick layer of either smoke or fog. Then, out of the vapors, steps a shadowy figure with an all too familiar form – Amon. As Amon moves towards him, Bolin struggles to free himself but his binds only tighten with each movement. Now Amon is standing directly over him. Bolin’s panic and terror must be plain on his face, for Amon lets out what sounds like a laugh. Bolin tries to plead for his life, but only finds that he can’t speak. He can open his mouth, but no words come out. His eyes widen even more as Amon leans toward him, hand outstretched. Amon places his hand on Bolin’s forehead and- Bolin’s eyes shoot open and he wakes up.

But tonight’s dream was different. Bolin didn’t wake up when Amon placed his fingers on Bolin’s forehead. Nor did he wake up during the ordeal of Amon taking his ability to bend. He only woke up after the nightmare had finally played itself through.

This night, there was both screaming and crying. Mako jumped out of bed and ran over to his brother, throwing his arms around Bolin. He pressed Bolin’s head into his chest, letting his brother’s tears soak through his thin undershirt. Mako rocked Bolin back and forth, whispering to him, telling him that his brother’s here and that he doesn’t have to be scared anymore, that everything is going to be just fine. 

A while later, Bolin’s screaming had stopped. Mako wasn’t sure if the screaming stopped because Bolin was calming down, or because Bolin had screamed so much that he had lost his voice. Bolin was still shaking and crying, however, so Mako didn’t figure that Bolin was getting calmer. 

Mako knew there would be no comforting his brother tonight. But, still, he stayed there on the bed, holding a shaking Bolin in his arms, all through the night.

 After all, he thought to himself, we’re all we’ve got.

[rozlux]

Promise

Fanfic that was requested, so I am posting it for Korrafic Saturday! Prompt: undertheseawithmyforevergirl asked you:

oh hi can you write a fanfic where katara's dieing and korras all sad and stuff and then katara tells mako to be there for korra and that she needs him. please? i dont care about the rating AT ALL. makorra in the end at least. I'LL LOVE YOU FOREVER IF YOU WRITE IT! <3

Rating: T ( Character death)

Here ya go:

She didn't know why Mako insisted on coming with her. He really didn't know much about Katara. But Korra wasn't going to question it. He was there for her, and that's what she needed right now. Someone there for her. It had been decided that only Tenzin and Korra were to go the South Pole, while Bolin and Asami were to help Pema.

Mako told Korra he would come with her. At first she said no, but he held Korra's shoulders and look straight at her.

"Korra, you are my friend. Right now you is what I need to take care of." His fiery eyes wee burning a hole through her.

 Instead of answering, Korra just collapsed crying into his chest. She wanted more, but Mako was still Asami's. 

Katara had fallen sick, and her odds didn't look great. Katara had insisted that she was fine, that a prophecy from when she was a girl had told her that it was not her time yet, but the best doctors around were saying otherwise.

Nobody but Tenzin really understood her connection with Katara. Being in training most of her life, Korra saw more of Katara than her own mother. She had taught her everything she knew. Told her all the stories she loved. Helped shaped Korra's view on life. 

Tenzin would of course be there for Korra, regardless of his usual stiff demeanor. Of course he would be a shoulder to cry on for Korra like he had in times before. But right now Tenzin was in as much pain as she was, even if he didn't show it. Korra didn't want to add any more to him. So she'd let Mako come along. He was proven useful. The long trip to the south pole Korra had nothing but bury herself into his shoulder. They barley spoke a word.

Korra felt a nudge. "Korra wake up" A hushed voice spoke. She pulled apart her puffy eyes. Mako was lifting her up gently off of him. "We're here." He said while starting to gather their bags. Korra looked at the familiar place. It was home. But this time it didn't bring her a feeling of warmth or belonging. It brought a feeling of pain and loss. She had to go see Katara immediately. 

"Mako do you mind going to the hut and dropping off our stuff. I have to go see her." Her raspy voice quaked. He nodded and she noticed Tenzin was already off the Bison. She wanted to run to her, but everything about Korra felt heavy. She settled with a quickened waddle. She saw Tenzin leaving the quarters. 

"She's waiting for you." His long face whispered. His head directed at the ground he carried himself off and Korra entered the room. She saw her Master laying in her bed. Korra let more hot tears roll down her face. Katara looked different. She wasn't the glowing woman Korra had last seen. She looked like she had lost some life. Like the light behind her eyes was burning out.

Korra gave her a gentle hug, then keeled beside her bed, softly holding her fragile hand.

"Oh Korra" Katara chuckled, the life that wasn't visible, was obviously still there although a bit washed out. "You can't be worrying about me! You've got Avatar duties to fulfill. Plus I heard you have yourself a handsome escort."

Korra chuckled at Katara's bent sense of priorities. "Yes. But I am here for you right now" Korra sniffed. Korra was strong, she was supposed to be strong in front of Katara. Korra crying wouldn't help her, but a pit in Korra's stomach was forming a hole. The edges were raw and Korra felt every glance at the weak light left of Katara was picking at the open wound. 

"So how did you get him to come along?" She let smile grow across her face.

"This is not the time for this!" Korra half smiled, although she was blushing behind her damp and sticky cheeks.

"I see the way you light up when he's mentioned." She pointed out "Korra you need someone to be there for you, if I cant be one day." The old woman spoke warmly.

"No don't talk like that." She gave back sternly, the pit in her stomach being rampaged at even harder.

"Korra. I know how much Aang needed me, and how much I needed him. You're here right now with me, and so is he." Korra felt a pulse inside her when Aang's name was mentioned. "I know us Water-tribe girls are strong and that's why we need to be strong for our men too!" 

"But he has a girlfriend." Korra finally surrendered to the topic of her masters choice. 

"He'll see what's destined when the time comes." Katara said wisely and pulled Korra in to plant a loving kiss on her forehead.

Korra dabbed her cheeks and under her nose as her favorite person gave her one of her eminent speeches. Korra usually only understood half, but today everything was clicking. Korra didn't want to take it as an omen, but she couldn't help but feel that way. 

As the speech died down after what seemed like a long, but blissful hour, Katara abruptly asked "May I speak to him?"

"Who, Mako?" Korra questioned surprisingly. "I don't think that's a good idea." Honestly Korra was scared of what she might tell him.

"Don't be ridiculous" The woman laughed weakly. "I just want to thank him for escorting you and Tenzin here." 

Korra hesitated, but finally agreed and went to go get him. She kissed Katara on the forehead and said goodbye. She was terrified that this would be the last, so she made sure it was meaningful. "I love you" She mumbled into her forehead. She got up and Katara replied with "I love you too Korra. I'll always be with you." Korra was afraid of what that meant, but she forced herself out of the room to fulfill her water bending teacher's request.

She found him in his guest room. "Mako, um... she wants to see you."

"Me?" Mako asked in confusion. Why would this bending master want to see him?

"Yes, you. Now go, shes waiting" She didn't want to add anymore stress on Katara.

Mako nervously fidgeted with his hands, repeatedly cracking his knuckled as he headed to the room. He was about to go see a dying old woman, and he didn't even know why. And not to mention that this woman was one of the closest people to Korra. And she was one of the only people who truly understood Korra, he assumed, and that was a gift of its own.

He walked in and saw the shriveled up woman smiling in her bed, her hand beckoning to come to her. He could feel the air of death loom around the room. The memory of his parents crept up on him. He clenched his jaw and his muscles tightened, trying to wash the thoughts of them away. This wasn't the time. He walked over to her bedside and stood next to the bed awkwardly.

"So you're the one Korra was talking about." Katara dished out weakly. She softly patted the empty space next to her so he would sit.

Mako sat down, his eyes wide, unsure of what to say. He decided his name was a proper start "U-uh well um yes. I'm Mako. It's a pleasure to meet you."

The woman flashed him a feeble, but enduring smile and he immediately felt relaxed.

The frail woman studied him eyeing him for a good while. He sat there feeling her gaze, but didn't know how to start a conversation with her.

"She needs you, you know." She finally said blatantly.

"W-what?" he questioned in shock.

"She won't admit it, but she needs you. She will need you. Shes going to need you through this."

"What do you mean?" Was the best he could sputter out. He couldn't processes that Korra of all people would need him. He knew that she liked him, but need him? His chest felt heavy with guilt. If it was true than he must have seemed horrible too her. Even if it wasn't true, he was horrible to her, he realized. Well had been there for her for this. He came along.He knew that she needed him for this visit. That was something, right?

The woman's face hardened. It wasn't cold. It was still approachable. But it was an expression of serious concern. "Korra is special, I know. She seems strong on the outside because unlike most, she actually is a strong person. Its not a facade like you would think. But that doesn't mean she doesn't need someone. I was that someone for Avatar Aang. Of course he had my brother and friends who where all there for him, but sometimes people need more than that. They need that one special person the really is utterly and completely there for them. She might not even realize it herself, but I don't think Korra will ever see it as anyone but you. She is so alone right now. She can't do this alone. The Avatar is not just a person. It's also a team."

Mako stomach dipped. He knew exactly what she was getting at, but what was he supposed to do? Right now he was being there for Asami. Korra needed him too? He would of course be there for her now as at least a friend. But he had done a terrible job at even that. Korra really did need a team behind her. He was being selfish and didn't even realize how alone she must have felt. She grew up her whole life with no one her age. No one that could be with her through her Avatar, and even normal struggles. She didn't even get to see much of her parents. She had her Master Katara, but she wasn't exactly in the right state to be Korra's side kick. Especially now, where Korra might lose her.

There was Tenzin, but he wasn't exactly one to go to for teenage problems. And Korra was still a teenage girl who needed someone with her for that. 

She was supposed to have him and Bolin. Bolin was a bit too naive for the serious matters, so who was left? Him. And he'd failed her. He had even once threatened to revoke their friendship. He didn't even think about the fact that it was one of the only real friendships she had. Mako's eyebrows furrowed in culpability on himself and remorse. He had been cruel. And he was so sorry. 

He started to think about what he had. He had Bolin. His brother that he loved more than anything. He was supposed to be there for Bolin though, not the other way around. He had Asami. He didn't quite love her yet, but he definitely had strong feelings for her. She was such a good person in total and he was happy with her. But he started to doubt himself. Was that enough? To have just that? Not that he wasn't grateful for what he had, but maybe he needed more. Maybe he needed Korra too. As much as she was crazy and brash, she was also a good person. 

"I'll try harder." Was all he could give. The brittle hand of the woman clasped on to his warm one. 

"Promise me that you will? That you'll be there for her?" She whispered faintly. 

"I promise." He squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to let the moistness in his eyes progress further. He could feel in his hand, her energy slipping away. He opened his eyes again and gulped back the lump in his throat. 

"Thank you" She exhaled smiling, shutting her eyes for the last time. Mako's chest shuttered. That was it. He didn't let go of her hand as he calmly called for the guards. They stormed in and he just gave them a look to explain what was going on. The head guard nodded and Mako finally let go of the passed elder.

He refused to sulk when he walked over to Korra. As much as it pained him that this person had died, it was really a more dire loss to Korra. He had to fulfill his promise and be there for her. He knew from experience how painful and agonizing death could be and he didn't think that displaying his own sadness would help her. 

He spotted her outside the guest quarters, sitting by herself on the floor. She was resting her forehead of her knees and she looked up when she heard his footsteps. Her eyes were dry and her face unknowing. She noticed the changed aura about Mako. She knew something was wrong. Her expression became less unknowing now. 

"Did...did it happen?" She choked out, here eyes welling up with tears. 

Mako didn't say anything. He just rushed over next to her and gave her a hug as his answer. She started hysterically sobbing into his neck and he tightened his grip on her protectively. He wished now that Korra could be protected from the hurt right now, but that was one thing he couldn't do. But he would make sure that that would be one of the only things. He would help her through everything else she needed. It wouldn't be wise to break a promise to the deceased. He was confused about so many things, but being there for Korra regardless of their relationship was something that was set straight in his mind.

Korra felt like air was sucked out of lungs. Like someone had punched another whole in her and now there was a piece missing. Missing forever. Every organ in her lurched with agony. Every muscle ached with sheer loss. It felt surreal. If she wasn't already sitting down and leaning into Mako she probably would have collapsed. She was truly all alone now. She let everything spill out of her, not that she had a choice. Every bead of water that escaped her eyes felt as though it was trying to leave her body to escape the pain. She was gone.

She couldn't ever go to her for advice again. She could never give her a hug again. Hear her stories again. Hear her voice again. She felt so isolated and lost. As Korra heaved another strong sob, she finally took physical notice of Mako's body there. She was thankful. Because right now he was the only thing holding her up, in more ways than one.

Mako could tell that this wouldn't stop for a while. She would just continue to cry out and he would let her. He knew that he wished that he had someone to lean on when he had lost his parents. He knew how important it was to stay strong for Bolin, and how hard it was to do that. Being strong was struggle, and Korra did it all the time. He felt compelled to hold her even closer. He felt a rush of deja vu. The way Bolin had once sobbed into him was not too different. He looked at her from the corner of his eye and he knew that he was headed towards the right direction with Korra. Maybe he was still in a relationship with Asami, but Korra and him could be friends. She would be his friend that he would not abandon. He wasn't going to act the same cold way he had before. 

She sank lower into him, now bawling not quite as vigorously into his chest. His chin was now leaning her head. He looked off to nowhere in particular and he let her just do what she needed too, while has just glad to finally know what he had to do. A bitter sweet smile formed, just the corner of his lips curling. But then out instinct he did something that only led back to his confusion.

Without even thinking, he tilted his head down, gently planting a kiss on the top of her head.

[scythefics]

False Flame

Summary

Zia has spent her whole life running. From her past. From her enemies. From the parts of herself she refuses to acknowledge.

Republic City was supposed to be her fresh start—a place to disappear in the chaos, to finally be free. But staying in the shadows isn’t as easy as she hoped.

The city is on the brink of war, and no matter how hard she tries to keep her distance, she keeps getting pulled into a battle that isn’t hers.

She never meant to get involved. She never meant to stand at anyone’s side. But avoiding the spotlight is difficult when you’re teaming with the Avatar.

The past doesn’t let go so easily.

And if Zia isn’t careful, it will destroy everything she’s built—including the one person she never expected to care about. __________________________ Ao3

3.8k words __________

Chapter Two

The rooftops of Republic City stretched before her, an endless maze of stone, metal, and flashing lights. But Zia wasn’t really seeing them anymore. She had been sitting here too long—longer than she should have been. 

But moving felt like a battle all on its own. The wound in her side had started as a sharp, white-hot pain, but now it was…different. Heavy and dull. Like an iron weight had been pressed deep into her body, dragging her down with every breath. Zia forced herself to sit up, each movement taking her breath away as waves of pain washed through her. Her hands were shaking. She clenched them into fists willing them to stop. She was fine. She just needed a little rest. Zia let her head rest against the wall, closing her eyes. Just for a second–that's all she needed.

Ryuu didn’t agree.

Zia felt a sharp nip at her finger. She flinched, opening her eyes to see Ryuu staring at her.

The fire ferret had been chirping at her for the last ten minutes, pacing in little circles around her legs, tail flicking in agitation. Now she sat in her lap looking at her.

Zia scowled, reaching out to scratch behind her ear. “I said I’m fine, girl.”

Ryuu snapped at her fingers.

Zia yanked her hand back, eyes narrowing. “Did you really just–?”

Another sharp squeak.

She ignored it and tried to close her eyes again.

Ryuu chittered aggressively before Zia felt a tail flick against her face–causing her to open her eyes once more.

“Did you just seriously flick me?”

Ryuu huffed at her.

Zia sighed, dragging a hand down her face. She was seriously losing an argument with a fire ferret.

Ryuu’s beady little eyes locked onto her, then flicked pointedly to the city below.

Zia followed her gaze. The Pro-Bending Arena stood tall in the distance, floodlights glowing against the night sky. She didn’t need to guess to know what Ryuu was suggesting. How Ryuu knew what that was, was beyond her.

“No.”

Ryuu squeaked louder.

“Absolutely not.”

More insistent squeaks and chirps.

“Not. Happening.”

Ryuu let out a sharp huff–then promptly crawled onto her shoulder and smacked her with her tail again, this time with more force.

Zia groaned, brushing the tail away. “I hate you.”

Ryuu responded with a smug chirp.

Stubborn little brat. But… she wasn’t wrong. Zia's eyes drifted to the arena. She didn’t have to ask for help. She didn’t need to find Bolin.

The arena had supplies. Supplies she needed very desperately. She could just…take what she needed and leave. No doubt the place would be easier to sneak into and get what she needed in her condition than a small shop. 

No talking. No debts. No attachments.

That was the plan.

Sneaking into the Pro-Bending arena was laughably easy. Even in her current state, it was almost too easy. No one guarded the lower levels, at least not efficiently. They probably never thought someone would be dumb enough to break in for supplies–especially medical supplies.

Zia’s boots made almost no sound against the polished floors as she weaved through the hallways, sticking to the shadows. She was looking for any signs of anything that might lead her to what she needed. Her vision was blurred around the edges. She shook her head, clearing it. She needed to hurry.

At last, she found a small supply room tucked away near the locker rooms. The door was unlocked. Perfect.

Zia slipped inside and immediately started rummaging through the cabinets.

Come on. Come on. Gauze. Antiseptic. Bandages. Anything–there!

She reached back for the roll of bandages that she spotted–and nearly dropped it. Her fingers weren’t cooperating. Her hand trembled.

Not now.

She clenched her fist, grounding herself. Ignoring the way her vision wobbled.

Just grab it. Grab what you need and get out. Fast

Then–

“You wanna tell me what the hell you’re doing in here?”

 Zia froze. Slowly, she turned toward the voice, masking every once of pain and exhaustion from her face–subtly shifted, angling her injured side away from him. She studied the tall, dark-haired guy that was leaning against the doorway, arms crossed. His amber eyes were locked onto her, cold, unreadable.

Zia immediately did not like him.

Play it cool.

Zia smirked. “What’s it look like? I’m raiding your stash.”

His frown deepened. “Who are you?”

“Not important.”

“You robbing the place?”

“Yep.”

She expected him to get mad. Maybe yell, call for someone. Maybe try to grab her. Instead, he just stared at her. Hard. Like he was trying to see through her. Zia’s hands twitched towards the knife holsters, realizing she had forgotten her knives back on the alley ground with the damn thugs. Shit.

The man’s eyes flicked to her hands.

“You're shaking.”

Zia stilled. Double shit.

She clenched her fists at her side, forcing her body to stop trembling. “Cold night,” she said flatly.

He took a step forward. Zia instinctively tensed–trying not to wince at the action. He looked her over once more before pausing.

“You’re injured.”

Her stomach twisted.

She forced a smirk. “Oh wow, really? I had no idea.”

His eyes didn’t leave her–only glancing back up from her injury to meet her eyes.

Zia started scooting her way along the wall to the door. “Look, I’ll make this easy–let me walk, and we won't have a problem.”

The guy didn’t move. “Not happening.”

Zia’s mind raced. She could take him. She was faster. She could–

“Makoooooooo!! What’s taking you so– Hey!! Mystery Lady!”

A loud–familiar–voice shattered the tension. Both of them turned as Bolin burst into the room, grinning from ear to ear.

“You actually showed! Wow, I mean not to show little faith, but I honestly didn’t think you’d actually come. At least not with the way you had–”

Mr. Stubborn’s eyes snapped to him, interrupting him. “You know her?”

Bolin nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah!"

"No," Zia said at the same time.

Zia glared at the cheery bender–who only grinned wider. At least until he properly looked at her, then his expression changed. His smile disappeared. His gaze flicked over her pale face. The sweat on her forehead. The way she was subtly gripping her side.

“Hey, uh… are you okay?”

Zia opened her mouth to lie.

But–

Her vision tilted. The room blurred. She felt her knees buckle.

Oh.

That…wasn’t good.

A pair of strong hands caught her before she hit the ground.

“Whoa–HEY!”

Bolin’s voice was far away, and slowly growing farther and farther away.

The other’s–Mako it seemed–voice, was sharp and alarmed: “Bolin, she’s bleeding.”

Zia’s fingers gripped Bolin’s jacket tightly, breath shaky and shallow.

Damn it. Stupid body. Stupid blood loss. Should have been faster. Could have been faster.

Bolin’s voice was frantic now. “Mako! Help me!”

Mako swore under his breath.

Zia felt hands lifting her. The soft weight of Ryuu clambering onto her chest, squeaking frantically.

Then—

Darkness.

This was not the plan.

***

Bolin had never panicked harder in his life.

“OH SPIRITS, SHE’S DYING! MAKOOOOO, SHE'S DYING!!!”

“She’s not dying, Bolin,” Mako gritted out, but he didn’t sound entirely sure.

The girl was alarmingly pale, sweat dampening her forehead, and a decent amount of blood too.

Bolin was holding her arm uselessly like he didn’t know what to do with it. “What do we do?!! We need a healer–Mako! She’s gonna die–”

Mako was already grabbing the med kit from the locker. “Bolin. Shut up.”

“CAN”T. PANICKING!”

“Then panic quieter.”

Mako pushed the girl’s vest aside, just enough to expose the wound on her stomach. A deep gash in her left side, still bleeding, although deep it wasn’t that big–would be able to close on its own. 

They’d dealt with street fights before. Mako had patched up his fair share of bruises, cuts, and the occasional broken nose. But this?

This was different.

This girl had been fighting for her life long before she stumbled into their arena.

Mako glanced at her face—pale, damp with sweat, lips slightly parted as she mumbled something too faint to hear. Her body twitched slightly, caught in some kind of fevered nightmare.

She was running from something.

And whatever it was…

It wasn’t done chasing her.

“Hold this,” Mako ordered, holding a clean cloth against the wound.

Bolin took Mako’s place, pressing down–hard.

“Too much!” Mako snapped.

“Pressure is good!” Bolin insisted.

Mako scowled. “Not if you crush her ribs!”

Bolin yelped and eased up a little.

Mako worked fast, cleaning the wound, wrapping the bandages, making sure she wasn’t about to actually die.

Her breathing evened out for now, the bleeding slowed.

Bolin let out a shaky breath. “Okay. Okay. She’s good. But like. What do we do with her now?”

Mako stood, rolling his shoulders. “We’ll leave her here until she wakes up.”

Bolin blinked.

Then pointed at the locker room.

“...On the floor?”

Mako gave him a look.

Bolin gasped. “MAKO! We can’t just leave her here! THats rude!”

“She’s a thief, Bolin.”

“She’s an injured thief.”

Mako sighed. “Fine. Where do you suggest we put her?”

Bolin pointed up.

Mako immediately regretted asking him.

Mako knew this was a bad idea.

Like, objectively.

But that didn’t stop him and Bolin from hauling an unconscious, bleeding thief up multiple flights of stairs. They didn’t even want to consider the ladder they’d have to tackle, yet.

“This is dumb,” Mako grumbled.

Bolin, struggling to keep hold of her legs, huffed. “You’re dumb.”

“This is your idea.”

“And it’s a good idea!”

“She’s dripping blood all over the stairs–”

“MAKO, PLEASE, JUST WALK FASTER–”

Mako was losing patience.

“This is seriously the dumbest idea–Bolin, LIFT HER HIGHER–”

“I’M TRYING!”

Dragging an unconscious, bleeding stranger up a ladder? Yeah. This was easily the stupidest thing they’d ever done. Mako’s arms ached, Bolin was panting from exhaustion.

Bolin was struggling beneath her weight, practically carrying her legs like a sack of rice. Mako had her by the upper half, awkwardly balancing her head against his shoulder.

“This would be so much easier if these were like the stairs,” Bolin groaned.

“Too bad we don’t,” Mako gritted out–trying to focus on not dropping her or falling.

The ladder creaked dangerously.

Bolin yelped.”Mako–MAKO, I THINK IT’S GONNA BREAK–”

Mako did not have time for this. “Then climb faster!!”

They finally managed to get up into their attic loft, more out of pure luck than strength.

Mako hoisted the girl’s limp body onto the attic floor, dragging her out of the way and over to one of their cots as Bolin flopped face-first onto the floor.

“Sweet Spirits, she’s heavier than she looks,” Bolin wheezed.

Mako ignored him, grabbing a blanket and tossing it over the girl. He expected her to stir, to wake up swinging–but she didn’t.

She barely moved at all.

For a while, the room was quiet.

Mako sat on the edge of his bed, studying her. His gaze traveled over the faint bruises on her wrists–peeking out from under her silver braces, the old scars barely visible along her arms from what he could see. They weren’t random. They were deliberate.

Someone had hurt her.

Badly.

And that meant someone was probably still looking for her.

Mako frowned. Who the hell was this girl?

“She’s out cold,” Bolin mumbled–dragging Mako’s attention away from the girl. “That’s probably bad, right?”

Mako didn’t answer.

“...Think we should call someone?” Bolin asked hesitantly.

Mako exhaled sharply. “Who? A healer? A doctor?...The cops?”

Bolin frowned. “Well, not the cops–”

“Exactly,” Mako muttered. He got up from the bed and moved over to a chair across the room. “She wouldn’t want that.”

Bolin blinked. “Wait…you care what she wants?”

“I care about not making this more complicated than it already is.”

Bolin hummed. But the words felt hollow. Deep down, Mako knew he should have walked away from this. She wasn’t their problem. She seemed like a trouble maker that would only bring unwanted things.

And yet, here they were.

Bolin shifted. “So… are we keeping her?”

Mako sighed, rubbing his temples. “She’s not a stray, Bolin.”

“But…she kinda is.”

“Bolin.”

“Mako.”

Mako groaned and stood. “Let's just wait until she wakes up.”

“And then?”

“And then we ask her who the hell she is.”

Bolin sat for just a moment and then beamed. “We are so keeping her.”

Mako groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. This was going to be a mistake.

***

The world flickered.

Zia’s mind felt fractured, like she was slipping between layers of reality, caught between past and present.

She wasn’t here.

She was there.

A darkened room, the scent of smoke clogging her lungs. The feeling of hot metal against her skin, searing agony where it pressed into her shoulder. She could hear them laughing.

"You scream so much. I thought you were supposed to be tough."

Zia’s body twitched violently.

Hands–real ones, warm and steady—held her down.

"Whoa—hey, you’re okay! You’re safe!"

Safe.

That was a lie.

She would never be safe.

But the hands holding her weren’t cruel. They weren’t forcing her still so they could carve into her flesh, weren’t pressing the heat deeper to watch her squirm. These hands were steady, careful, warm in a way that wasn’t meant to harm.

The nightmare still tightened around her like a vice.

She saw flickering torchlight, the glint of a blade, the smirk of a woman she could never outrun—

"Look at you, all that fire, all that fight—and yet, here you are, crumbling."

A woman’s golden eyes, sharp as blades, staring down at her as the firelight flickered behind her.

"You think running will ever save you? No one escapes me, little bird.--You’re ours. You always will be."

Her body jerked, a sharp inhale rattling her lungs as she wrenched herself free from the memories and plunging her into pure darkness.

It was hours later when Zia had started to wake up slowly. Her limbs felt heavy, her head foggy, and everything ached. It felt like her whole body was made of lead.

The light above her was too bright.

Before she could think, her body tensed, preparing to fight—but the weight of the blanket over her threw her off. A bed. She was in a bed.

She was too warm.

She wasn’t there.

She was—

“...should we even trust her?”

She wasn’t alone

She kept her breathing slow, listening.

There were two voices talking. It took her a second to remember who they were. One was Bolin–the one she met out on the streets. The other took her longer, but she remembered Bolin mentioning a Mako–so the other must have been him.

Bolin’s voice: “I mean, she hasn’t tried to kill us yet, so that’s a good sign!”

Mako’s voice: “You realize she broke into the arena and nearly bled out on the floor, right?”

“Yeah, but–”

“But what, Bolin? We don’t know anything about her! An ordinary person doesn’t break in somewhere to bleed out on the floor!”

Zia’s fingers twitched, she needed to get out of here. She clearly was not wanted here.

“She’s dangerous,” Mako continued. “She’s hiding something. I can feel it.”

Zia cracked an eye open.

Zia’s vision swam, colors bleeding together before slowly sharpening into something recognizable.

She saw them–Bolin sitting cross-legged beside her on the floor, Mako sitting in a chair across the room, arms crossed, watching her like a hawk. His amber gaze was sharp, analyzing, taking in every detail like she was a puzzle he had to solve.

Her voice was rough as she spoke.

“You two argue a lot.”

Both boys jumped.

Mako’s eyes snapped to hers. “You’re awake.”

Bolin beamed. “HEY! You didn’t die!”

Zia groaned, shifting against the pillow. Pain lanced through her side, causing her to wince.

Mako noticed immediately. “Don’t move. You’ll just make it worse.”

Zia scowled. “I don’t take orders.”

Mako’s expression remained blank.

“You also don’t take care of yourself, apparently.”

Zia’s glare intensified.

Bolin jumped in. “Hey, let’s not fight the person who literally got you up here!”

Zia’s brows furrowed. “You carried me?”

Bolin grinned. “Yep! Up a ladder and everything.”

Zia stared at him, then turned her gaze to Mako.

Mako simply exhaled and shrugged. “It was awful.”

Zia blinked, staring between them.

She felt…

Strange.

No one had ever helped her before.

She shouldn’t trust them.

Bolin grinned as he got up in her face from his spot on the floor. “You know, you totally gave us a heart attack! I mean, you looked awful–okay, you still kinda do, but like, better–oh, and we totally saved your life, so you’re welcome!”

Zia squinted at him. “You’re…Bolin, right? The one from the streets”

He beamed. “You remember me!”

“Not really. Just your annoying voice.”

Bolin pouted.

Mako sighed heavily. “Can we not do this, right now?”

Zia gritted her teeth and swung her legs over her bed.

Instantly, Mako stood. Bolin looked concerned from his spot on the floor.

She braced herself, forcing her body to stay upright.

“I’m leaving,” she said.

“No, you’re not, not like that.” Mako said flatly.

Zia raised an eyebrow. “Who’s gonna stop me? You?”

Mako’s jaw tightened. “If I have to.”

She took a step–and immediately collapsed.

Bolin caught her before she hit the ground.

Zia hated this.

But…she hated passing out on the streets even more.

She tried to push herself away from Bolin, only for a sharp, agonizing pull in her side to send her collapsing back down with a hiss.

“Whoa, hey—easy!” Bolin reached out, stopping her from moving too fast while also moving her to sit back down on the bed. “You lost a lot of blood. You shouldn’t be standing up yet.”

Zia clenched her teeth, willing her body to cooperate, but every muscle was sluggish, weighed down with exhaustion and pain.

Her eyes flicked around.

This wasn’t an infirmary. She wasn’t in a hospital. The dim lighting, the rickety furniture, the makeshift bed she was lying on—

She was in someone’s attic.

Zia took a moment to try and calm herself, willing her heart to slow down–force herself out of flight mode. She was safe. Well. Safe-ish. No doctors. No authorities. No one asking questions she didn’t want to answer.

That was good.

Bolin gave her an awkward grin. “Sooo… you wanna tell us what happened? Or—”

Okay, maybe there were still questions she didn't want to answer.

“No.”

Silence.

Mako exhaled sharply through his nose. “Of course not.”

Bolin nudged his brother. “C’mon, Mako, cut her some slack. She’s obviously been through—”

“She broke into our supply room.” Mako’s eyes narrowed. “She didn’t come looking for help. She was looking for something to steal. And judging by her condition, she’s been on the run from something.”

Zia’s muscles coiled, her heart rate spiking once more.

Mako was too damn observant.

His gaze flicked over her carefully, taking in every detail—her thin frame, the healing bruises, the way she flinched slightly at every sudden movement. Then, his eyes locked onto something.

Zia stiffened.

Her sleeve. It had shifted when she fell.

Mako stepped closer.

She tensed as his fingers reached out and pulled the fabric back before she could stop him.

For a moment, no one spoke.

The dim light of the attic cast sharp shadows over her forearm. Faded burn scars ran across her skin like jagged, ugly vines, twisting up toward her elbow. Some old, some newer. Some deliberate, shaped with cruel precision.

Mako’s jaw clenched.

Bolin’s face crumpled. “Spirits…”

Zia jerked her arm away, tugging her sleeve down roughly.

Mako’s expression gave nothing away, but his voice was quieter now. “Who did that to you?”

Zia glared. “None of your business.”

Mako studied her a moment longer, then exhaled. “Right. Of course.”

Bolin rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “Well, uh… whoever it was, you don’t have to worry about them here. We’re not gonna turn you in or anything.”

Zia scoffed. “Like I was worried about that.”

Mako sat back down on the edge of the chair, still watching her like she was some kind of puzzle he hadn’t figured out yet.

Bolin, ever the peacemaker, clapped his hands together. “Sooo, uh, how about some food? You probably haven’t eaten in a while, huh?”

Zia hesitated.

Her body ached for nourishment, but—

She didn’t accept things from people.

Didn’t owe.

Didn’t trust.

Bolin must have seen something in her expression, because he quickly added, “No strings attached! Just a meal. You’re probably, uh, really low on blood sugar after, y’know… losing so much blood and almost dying.”

Zia rolled her eyes but said nothing.

Bolin took that as a win. He beamed and practically skipped toward their tiny kitchen space.

Mako didn’t move from his spot. His amber eyes were still fixed on her, calculating.

She met his gaze with a glare. “What?”

"You’re not from around here," Mako observed, watching her reaction.

Zia snorted. “Wow, brilliant deduction, detective.”

Mako didn’t take the bait. “You don’t talk like someone from Republic City.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You’re running from something.”

Silence.

Zia’s jaw tightened.

Mako leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You broke in here looking for supplies. That means you didn’t have another option. You don’t have a place to go, do you?”

She didn’t answer.

Mako tilted his head slightly. “And those scars?” His eyes flicked to her arm again. “You didn’t get those from street fights. Someone did that to you. Someone you don’t want to find you.”

Zia’s stomach curled in on itself.

He really was too observant–and seemed to be really stubborn, not one let things go easily. It sounded more like he was just trying to get her to confirm all his theories–everything he already knew.

Mako didn’t press further though, but his expression remained unreadable. “You planning on staying in the city long?”

She didn’t owe him an answer.

Didn’t owe him anything.

But she found herself saying, “Dunno.”

Mako watched her for another long moment. Then, with a sigh, he leaned back, rubbing his temples. “Great.”

Bolin reappeared moments later, holding a plate of hot food with a proud grin. “Here! Eat up!”

Zia stared at it.

No strings attached, he’d said.

She didn’t believe that. Not really. But…

Her stomach twisted painfully.

She snatched the plate, muttering, “Thanks.”

Bolin lit up like she’d just given him a gift. “No problem, Mystery Lady!”

Mako pinched the bridge of his nose. “We cannot keep calling her that.”

Bolin waved him off. “She won’t tell us her name! What else are we supposed to call her?”

Zia smirked slightly between bites.

Mako exhaled through his nose. “Fine. But she’s not staying here.”

Zia tensed.

Bolin pouted. “Awww, c’mon, Mako—”

“No. No strays.” Mako shot her a hard look. “Eat. Rest. Then you’re gone.”

Zia held his gaze.

She didn’t need to stay. She didn’t want to stay.

But something told her this wasn’t the last time she’d be seeing them.

Not by a long shot. And something told her they weren’t done with her, either.

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

[scythefics]

False Flame

Summary

Zia has spent her whole life running. From her past. From her enemies. From the parts of herself she refuses to acknowledge.

Republic City was supposed to be her fresh start—a place to disappear in the chaos, to finally be free. But staying in the shadows isn’t as easy as she hoped.

The city is on the brink of war, and no matter how hard she tries to keep her distance, she keeps getting pulled into a battle that isn’t hers.

She never meant to get involved. She never meant to stand at anyone’s side. But avoiding the spotlight is difficult when you’re teaming with the Avatar.

The past doesn’t let go so easily.

And if Zia isn’t careful, it will destroy everything she’s built—including the one person she never expected to care about.

________________

Ao3

3.2k words ____________

Chapter One

Present

Republic City.

It was like stepping into the future—vast, loud, alive. So many people. So many places. Zia grinned as she stepped off the merchant boat. It felt like a dream. She had heard so much about Republic City, always wanting to see it for herself. And now? Here she was. It felt right. Like this was where she was supposed to be..

“Hey! Where’d you come from??” A voice yelled from the boat.

Shit.

Zia ducked as she quickly took off down the docks to avoid getting caught. She didn't need to spend her first night here in a cell after being arrested as a stowaway. She took off from the docks into the city, dashing around the plenty of people walking the streets. There were so many things and smells. She had forgotten how long it’d been since she'd eaten till she felt her stomach gurgling while she ran.

It didn’t take long before she slowed back down to a walk, in total awe of the place. She looked in every shop window she passed, looked at all the different types of people she walked by, and swiped a small piece of bread off a stall outside. She picked away at the item as she explored. At the smell of the food in her hand a small little squeak came from her satchel around her torso. Out popped the face of a white fire ferret. It crawled from the bag to lay along Zia’s shoulders. She smiled as she broke off a piece of the food for her, “hey girl, couldn’t resist, huh?” The little ferret just let off a content squeak as it niddled away at the food.

“Can you believe it, Ryuu? We’re in Republic City! We’re actually here! Never thought we’d make it, huh?” she hummed, taking a bite of the bread herself. It was sweet, yet salty. It was delicious. She couldn't remember the last time she tasted something so good–and it was only bread! She only took a couple more bites before she wrapped it in a cloth and tucked it away in her satchel, “for later.” she mumbled.

The streets of Republic City were so alive with energy in every way– street vendors yelling over one another, Satomobiles honking, the smell of all the different types of food and exhaust mingling in the air.

It was everything she had imagined.

But it was also… bigger. Louder. It was a lot

More overwhelming.

Ryuu chriped from her perch on Zia’s shoulders, tail flicking. Zia reached up, scratching behind the fire ferret’s ear. “Yeah, I know. Not exactly quiet, huh?”

She wasn’t sure what she expected. Maybe something that felt more like a destination—a place where she could finally stop running. But the moment she stepped off that boat, she realized that Republic City was just like everywhere else. Big. Crowded. And not hers.

But that was fine. It was better.

She just needed a place to lay low, make some quick cash–and then continue on. There really was never going to be a point that she could ever stop running. It was something she’d started to come to terms with.

Zia slipped into the crowd, moving like she belonged. That was the trick—never let them see you hesitate.

She kept her eyes sharp, scanning the streets for easy marks. A distracted merchant, a tourist with an open coin purse. She didn’t need anything big at the moment, just enough for a real meal and maybe a place to sleep.

And then she saw him.

A man in his mid-thirties, dressed in expensive silk robes, talking animatedly with someone near a noodle stand. The glint of a coin pouch hung at his belt, just loose enough to cut free.

Zia’s fingers twitched, too easy.

She let the crowd guide her, slipping through the mass of bodies, casual, unbothered. She brushed past the man, just enough to bump his side.

Her fingers closed around the pouch.

And then—

"Hey—wait!"

A hand grabbed her wrist.

Zia reacted instantly, twisting, yanking back, stepping into a defensive stance before she even registered who had grabbed her.

"Whoa, okay—ow, geez, mercy! I like my wrist unbroken, thanks!"

Zia had twisted his fingers just enough to make him let go. She took a quick step back, shoving the stolen coin pouch into her bag. "Don’t touch me."

The guy—broad-shouldered, dark-haired, green-eyed, probably her age—held up his hands in surrender. "Okay! Noted! No touching! But I mean, you were gonna do what I think you were gonna do, right?” he asked while wiggling his fingers in the air.

Zia shot him a glare, “Mind your damn business.”

She turned to disappear back into the crowd–

“Wait, wait, wait!”

She gritted her teeth as the guy followed, falling in step next to her. He was annoyingly persistent.

"Look, I get it," he said. "Believe me, I get it. But I promise, there are better ways to survive in Republic City than getting your hand chopped off by an angry shopkeeper."

Zia scoffed and scowled at him, “That doesn’t happen.” She may be new but she wasn’t dumb.

“Yeah well, I dunno, I’ve heard some stories…”the guy said shrugging, “Anyways, my point is–”

“I don't care about your point.”

Zia swerved through some of the crowd, switching up her direction to try to lose him.

“You’re new here right?” The guy asked and he appeared right back at her side. Either this guy was actually really good or he was just that persistent…or both.

She froze for half a second before she kept walking. Was she really that obvious?

“No, seriously, you totally are. I can tell. You’ve got that ‘just arrived, trying not to look lost’ thing going on."

Zia ignored him, maybe that was the key.

“And okay, no offence, but that was the most obvious guy to steal from,” he continued. “The merchant? Was definitely some ploy that would’ve gotten you caught.”

Zia exhaled sharply, pushing down her irritation. This wasn’t working. “Go away.”

“Hey, I’m just saying!”

He really wasn’t going away. Zia felt her hands clench around the strap of her bag across her chest.

“Not that much of a talker then, huh?” He hummed. “Alright, fine, how about this?”

He jumped ahead so he was walking backwards in front of her.

“You need money right?”

“What’s it to you?” She mumbled as she walked keeping her eyes straight trying not to actually look at him–really wishing he’d trip.

He grinned at her words, like he had won some kind of battle. “Well, you could keep stealing from people who’ll probably report you, get yourself chased around by cops, or–and this is the best part–you could work with me!” He said triumphantly. He stopped walking in front of her in excitement, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Zia halted before she could run into him. She raised an eyebrow. “Work with you?”

He nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! See, I happen to be kind of this big deal at the Pro-Bending Arena. Ever heard of it?”

Zia rolled her eyes. “No.” She wasn’t lying for once.

He blinked. “Wait really? Huh. Well, we’ll change that–” He brushed off before continuing. “--the point is, I could totally get you a job there. And it pays! It’s not too bad. What do you think?” He opened his arms to welcome the idea, raising his eyebrows at her.

Zia stared at him for a long moment.

Then, without a word, she turned and walked the other way.

“Wait! Seriously?! You’re not even going to consider it?”

Zia didn’t answer and just continued walking.

She heard him groan dramatically behind her, but didn’t follow this time. “Okay, fine! Be all mysterious and broody, but if you ever change your mind–Bolin, Pro-Bending Arena! Just ask for me! I’ll be there!”

She kept walking. She’d forget the name–would make herself forget it. She’d pay no mind to the fact that in the back of her mind, it lingered.

She didn’t need help. She didn’t need a job. She just needed to survive. And Republic City wasn’t a place for trusting strangers. Nowhere was.

Zia turned and vanished into the streets and alleys, coin pouch still weighing heavy in her pocket.

This city was like a maze.

Zia had been slipping through side streets for the past hour, getting a feel for the back alleys, the hidden corners. Republic City was huge, overwhelming, but she needed to know it—every twist, every shortcut. If she was going to survive here, she had to memorize the city like she had memorized her old life—like a series of exits.

Ryuu chirped softly from her shoulder as she ducked under an archway. Zia gave her a scratch. The alley ahead of her was dimly lit, quieter than the main streets, she took it without thinking. It was a nice break from all the loud noises. A place to slip through unnoticed.

Until she realized that she wasn’t alone.

She heard them before she saw them–low voices, muttering, the kind of hushed tones that came with shady business.

Then she saw the crates. It sat between two men, both standing stiff, tension rippling in their postures.

A scrawny one had his arms crossed, voice low and aggressive. The other, an older guy with a scar down his jaw in a dark coat, was holding something in his palm–a small velvet bag, filled with something heavy.

A trade.

And she had just walked straight into the middle of it.

Leave it to Zia to accidentally stumble into shady business on her first day in the big city. Her brain screamed at her to leave. But the moment she took a step back she heard a loud crunch. Her foot had landed on a stray piece of glass.

The hushed voices came to a halt.

Shit

Ryuu squeaked and scurried from Zia’s shoulders back into the safety of the satchel.

Slowly, one of the men turned around–the scarred guy in the coat–scowled immediately at the sight of her. Behind them, Zia caught movement. There were more of them hiding in the shadows. This was the kind of back alley deal where people didn’t ask questions.

Zia scanned her surroundings quickly without properly taking her eyes off the thugs. She needed to figure out a way out of this as fast as possible–she had no intentions of making enemies on day one.

She raised her hands slightly, palms out, casual–a surrender.

“Relax. Got turned around. I’m already leaving.”

No sudden moves, she didn’t need to set anyone off.

The man in the coat tilted his head, eyes sweeping over her. At first glance she’d just look like another street rat.

Zia’s outfit was built for movement—light, flexible, and deceptively simple. Deep red fabric clung to her form, the old ripped cropped top exposing a sliver of toned stomach, with a long, split-tail vest that’d billowed with movement. Golden accents lined the sash at her waist, a subtle nod to traditional Fire Nation colors, of where she grew up. Her brown satchel hung from her shoulder and across her body.

Her pants were loose but tapered at the calves, the lower halves wrapped in mesh bindings that kept them secure without restricting movement. Worn leather boots, scuffed from years of travel, barely made a sound against the pavement.

The most threatening part of her was her two curved daggers that rested in holsters at her hips, positioned for a quick draw. Silver bracers adorned her forearms, engraved with intricate designs, something she’d made herself in her darker times.

She’s had years to perfect her look. Building it in a way that allows for movement, speed, efficiency. Allow her to pass without notice and to not appear threatening to people. It was a disguise, a shield, and a lie. And she wore it well.

This guy didn’t look too convinced though, but he didn’t look ready to attack either.

“That so?” He asked, sceptical.

“Yep–” she popped her ‘p’ as she spoke, trying to seem chill and calm. “--I really don’t care what this is, so…” She gestured over her shoulder and started taking another step back. “I’m just gonna–”

“Wait a second.”

The other thug–younger and twitchy– stepped forward. His eyes flicked up and down her face. Then, he grinned.

“I seen you before, haven’t I?”

Zia’s body went rigid. He knows her? This was supposed to be a fresh start. How could he know her?

Coat raised an eyebrow–never taking his eyes off her–while a different thug spoke up.

“That so?”

“Yeah, I definitely seen her before. She a Phoenix gal. I swear!”

Zia’s stomach plummets, she felt like she was going to puke. Her heart hammered in her chest. She didn’t blink, didn’t breathe. Because if they knew–if word got back that she’s alive–

She’s dead.

Or worse.

No. She couldn’t let that happen. Her fingers twitched toward her belt as her eyes scanned the alley again. Just at first glance she could count 5 thugs–she couldn't tell how many others hid in the shadows. But she couldn’t risk any word getting back.

Zia moved first. Her dagger flashed as she lunged, the blade catching the dim alley light.

Fast. Direct. Don’t hold back. Don’t be predictable.

Her knife sliced towards his shoulder, aiming to disable–not kill, not yet anyways. She needed to know what he knew. Just needed to make sure he didn’t yap.

But he was quicker than expected–he jerked back, stumbling, and before she could reset, someone else rushed her from the side.

Zia ducked low, twisting under the swing, using her momentum to swing her leg out.

Crack

The guy hit the ground. They others yelled, stepping forward to charge, but Zia was already moving. She grabbed the nearest crate and kicked it over, spilling its contents–glass,metal, machine parts–sending it clattering across the alley floor.

The guy she had tripped grabbed her leg. Zia twisted, bringing her foot up–slammed it into his ribs and broke free.

Zia turned to her next attacker–only to notice she was practically surrounded. She was outnumbered. There was no way she’d be able to take them all on at once.

Coat hadn’t made any moves as of yet. He just stood in the back, arms crossed–just watching. But the others? They rushed her all at once, realizing they had the better advantage.

She blocked the first punch with her forearm, redirecting the force like she’d been trained. She made her own swing at him with her knife, only for her attack to be blocked and her knife hit from her hand. Another thug swung at her wide–she dodged–and then felt fingers close around her wrist.

They yanked her back, holding her against a hard chest. Her arm was twisted at a painful angle–one wrong move and she’d break her arm. Using her free hand she snatched up her other knife to try to make a swing, only for another thug to dodge and grab her wrist–tight, effectively causing her to drop the second knife.

Zia tried to wiggle free but they only tightened their grip on her.

“Let me go!” She gritted out.

Mr. Coat only smirked as he finally made an approach.

“A Phoenix, gal, huh?” He hummed, leaning down to get in her face.

Zia kept her mouth shut–glaring at the man.

Not good. Not good. Not good.

Her eyes darted around again, there were other thugs watching from the sidelines, grins on their faces. She needed to get out of here.

“What’s a gal like that, doin all the way over here?”

He tilted his head to get her attention back on him. He studied her for a moment, her glare, her fast breaths, her fear.

“Unlessssss…you’re not a runaway are you?” He smirked. “The runaway.”

Zia froze. Had word really gotten around so fast? If so, that could only mean they had people here. I mean really, why wouldn’t they?

Stupid, stupid,stupid. Of course this city wasn’t safe from them.

Coat grinned–obviously having hit a nerve with her.

Zia had to get out, this wasn’t good. It wasn’t till she felt something soft brush her arm behind her that she knew how.

Zia quickly leaned forward and smashed her head against Coat’s. He yelled and stumbled back, gripping his head. At the same time Ryuu had crawled out the satchel and bit the man holding her from behind on his arm. Said man let out his own yell and dropped her arm. Zia took the opportunity to swing her arm around, flicking her wrist a stream of fire burst out around her–forcing the others to let her go and stumble backwards.

Zia stood there for a moment, heaving in heavy breaths, panic fueling her entire body–staring down Coat as he glared right back at her. Blood trickled down his forehead from where they collided, no doubt her own head was bleeding. It was maybe only for a few seconds but the stare down felt like ages before the man grinned. In a split second the man reached in his coat and flung a small dagger towards her. Zia barely had a second to blink before it embedded into her left side. She grunted as white hot fire pain spread through her.

Zia shot out another gust of fire as a shield before she was scooping Ryuu into her bag and running off while all the thugs were distracted. She didn’t stop, didn't think, just ran.

She clutched her side as she vaulted over a stack of crates, slid under a gap in the fence. Her feet barely had any time to touch the ground properly before she leapt up onto a fire escape, hauling herself up–her breath was ragged, her heart pounding, and her side steadily throbbing.

She could still hear them shouting from down below.

“Find her! She could be worth something!”

She kept going, climbing the fire escape to the roof. Running along the top she leapt from one roof top to the other. She didn’t stop till the voices had faded into the city noise. She didn’t stop till her legs had burned. She didn't stop till she was sure they weren’t following her anymore. She didn’t stop until there was no more light in the sky.

It was hours later that Zia had found a relatively secluded spot on a rooftop to take rest. It seemed to be the place where she could avoid the most trouble so far. She hissed as she slid down a wall to take a seat, her hand pressed tightly to her side.Once she had propped herself against the wall she pulled her hand back to have a look. As expected it was covered in blood. She glanced down at her side where the dagger was still sticking out. It didn’t really look like it was too bad–maybe only a couple stitches would be needed. She’d need supplies though and she wasn’t in any shape to steal any, nor did she have enough money to buy any.

Ryuu squeaked as she climbed from the bag and nudged her hand.

“I’ll be okay, girl. Just gotta find a place to get patched up and laid low.”

As she spoke up she glanced up across the rooftop at the vast city. She couldn't help but notice one particular building. It was rather big, floodlights shone brightly from it.

A giant arena.

Zia bet it was probably a giant arena that housed the supposed pro-bending.

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