[Nighttime, Harmony Park District]
Like any great metropolis, Republic City has its own cultural and artistic hub—a place where the city's vibrant energy is on full display.
Welcome to Harmony Park District, home to some of the most well-known landmarks in the city. Here, high-class shops, extravagant restaurants, and grand theaters line the streets, catering to those with refined tastes, deep pockets, or both. It's a district where fashion and entertainment thrive, drawing in the city's elite and dreamers alike.
Among these renowned establishments stands Kwong's Cuisine, a prestigious restaurant nestled at the intersection of two bustling streets, where cable cars hum along their tracks.
Known for its exquisite dishes and lavish atmosphere, it is a place where reservations are a privilege and class is expected.
Why are we here, in such a luxurious setting?
Because we're following one half of the Ferret brothers—who against all odds, has managed to land himself a date.
MAKO
AGE: 18
STATU: Feeling out of place
He's been standing in front of the restaurant's grand entrance for a while now—too long, really.
His hands are stuffed in his pockets, his posture stiff. The golden glow of the hanging lantern casts long shadows over the pavement, but all Mako can focus on is a single thought looping in his head:
'Can I even go in?'
It's been ten minutes and he still hasn't moved.
Dressed in his usual casual attire—a worn-out red scarf, his work jacket and trousers—he looked nothing like the wealthy patrons stepping in and out the restaurant. Every passing second only made him feel more out of place.
Just as he was about to decide to wait for another ten minutes, the restaurant doors suddenly swung open.
"Master Mako, I presume?"
Mako flinched at the unexpected greeting.
Before him stood an elderly man, impeccably dressed in a butler's uniform. His voice was formal, his posture flawless.
Mako blinked. "M-Master?"
The butler barely reacted, merely giving him a once-over. Before Mako could question further, the quiet hum of an approaching car filled the air. A rose-colored, expensive-looking vehicle rolled to a stop just behind them.
The butler turned slightly. "Apologies, sir. Miss Sato had some business to attend to. She has asked me to escort you to her."
"Really? If it's important—" Mako abruptly stopped, narrowing his eyes. "Wait… Miss Sato?"
The butler raised a single brow, unimpressed. "I will explain in the car, Now, if you please"
There wasn't much room for debate.
With a resigned sigh, Mako exhaled through his nose, stepped off the sidewalk, slid into the car.
The butler shut the door behind him with practiced ease, circling around to the driver's seat as a valet handed him the keys. The valet bowed as the butler entered, starting the car.
As the vehicle pulled away from the curb, Mako comfortably sank into the plush leather, his unease only deepening as his back. The luxury car felt foreign, almost suffocating, pressing against him like a reminder that he didn't belong.
Silence settled between them, broken only by the soft hum of the engine. Outside, the city lights streaked past in blurs of gold and crimson, their glow flickering against the tinted windows. Mako stole a glance at the butler—stoic, composed, eyes fixed ahead on the road.
"So… where are we going, exactly?" Mako finally asked, shifting in his seat.
The butler didn't look at him but replied in the same refined tone. "To Miss Sato, of course"
Mako frowned but let it drop. With a quiet sigh, he turned back to the window, watching as Republic City blurred past.
—————————————————————————————
[Republic City Police Headquarters]
The polished floors of the police headquarters reflected the stark overhead lights, casting a cold glow over the bustling station. Officers moved with practiced efficiency, filing reports, answering calls, escorting detainees through the halls. Not one of them wasted time. The air carried the scent of ink, metal and the faint lingering traces of coffee long gone cold.
But not everyone in the station was a cop or a criminal.
A tall, bearded man in flowing orange robes strode through the halls, his expression tight with irritation. Beside him, a young woman in blue kept pace, her concern evident in the crease of her brow. The two were being led by a police officer in a metal uniform, keeping to his own thoughts.
TENZIN
AGE: 51
STATUS: Irritated
"I can't believe I left him under Tarrlok's supervision for a single day, and he's already managed to get himself into trouble" Tenzin grumbled, making no effort to conceal his frustration.
His companion, however, wasn't nearly as exasperated.
KORRA
AGE: 17
STATUS: Worried
"I'm sure he has a reasonable explanation" Korra countered, though doubt tinged her voice. "Zhen didn't seem like the kind of guy who'd… willingly get into trouble"
Tenzin had been summoned by the police with nothing more than a curt explanation: Zhen had been detained. That was all they were told.
Now, as he and Korra made their way through the station, they stopped in front of a reinforced metal wall, a sign above marking it as: Interrogation Room.
The officer escorting them stepped forward and bent a small eye hole into the wall before speaking through it. "Councilman Tenzin and Avatar Korra are here"
A brief silence followed before a strict, no-nonsense voice answered from within.
"Let them in"
At the command, the officer extended his arms, gripping at the air before pulling to the side. The metal wall groaned as it slid open, revealing the dimly lit room beyond. Without waiting for acknowledgement, Tenzin strode inside, his robes barely rustling. Korra followed close behind.
As soon as they stepped in, the metal wall behind them sealed shut with a solid—
Thud!
"You're late"
The voice was sharp, cutting through the room like a blade. Both turned their attention to the woman standing by a table, arms crossed.
LIN BEIFONG
AGE: 51
STATUS: Observing
"Any longer, and I would've gone home" Lin added, glaring at them
Tenzin exhaled through his nose before responding. "Well, you called us in the middle of dinner. We got here as fast as we could"
"Oh?" Lin arched a brow. "Did that woman make such a nice meal that you couldn't leave it unfinished?"
"Course, Pema's cooking is always a blessing"
Lin hummed thoughtfully "I might have to try it myself someday"
Korra watched the exchange words, blinking. They seemed… like friends? Or at least, close enough to trade jabs at each other.
Tenzin cleared his throat, cutting the conversation short. "Anyway, where is Zhen? That's the only reason we're here"
Lin didn't answer. Instead, she simply gestured toward the reinforced glass in front of her.
Beyond the pane, in the adjacent room, Zhen sat at a lone metal table. The dim light cast harsh shadows over his features, but it was impossible to miss the state he was in. His arms were cuffed to the table—both of them, even his broken one.
Korra's breath hitched slightly.
"Well, It's late" Tenzin said, stroking his beard. "We'll take him with us for now and sort this out tomorrow—if that works for you."
Lin gave a curt nod. "That shouldn't be a problem. But next time, keep him on a shorter leash."
Tenzin sighed. "I'll be sure to keep a closer eye on him. Did you notify Tarrlok of this? Zhen reported he was meeting with him this morning"
"Not yet, I was planning to—"
THOOM!
A sudden, forceful impact cut Lin off. The walls trembled slightly from the force. Even Zhen, who was in the other room, could be seen reacting through the glass.
Her fist was pressed against the now-cracked wall, her expression tight with frustration.
"What's wrong with you guys?" she snapped, her voice edged with worry. "Can't you see he needs help?"
Silence hung in the air. The only sound was the soft creak of shifting metal as the crack in the wall settled.
Tenzin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Korra—"
"No!" she shot back, spinning on him. "Don't 'Korra' me! Look at him!"
She thrust a finger toward the glass, prompting Tenzin to follow. His expression remained composed—neutral, even—but something in his posture shifted.
For all his coldness toward Zhen, for all the thinly veiled hostility he showed in their past interactions, even he couldn't ignore the young man's condition now.
Zhen was a mess.
His bandages were haphazardly applied, barely clinging to the open wounds beneath them. Dried blood crusted over a gash on the top of his head, trailing down all over his face like a forgotten stain. A hole, barely patched, marred his side. His arms and torso were riddled with fresh cuts and scratches, and small shards of glass still clung to his skin. Whoever had tended to him hadn't even bothered to remove them.
And he was shirtless.
Though he held himself still, as if refusing to show weakness, his body betrayed him. A faint tremor ran through his frame, his skin pale and clammy from blood loss and exposure.
Korra trembled, but not with hesitation—only anger.
"You didn't even bother wiping him clean!" she spat. "You just threw him in there and left him to bleed out on a damn chair!"
Tenzin and Lin exchanged a glance, but neither spoke.
Korra wasn't done.
Her eyes flickered between them, burning with accusation. "And you two are standing there talking about leashes and paperwork like he's some kind of stray animal!"
Lin's expression remained unreadable, her sharp gaze flickering toward the interrogation room.
Zhen hadn't moved.
His posture was slumped, his breathing shallow. His head remained bowed, strands of dark hair falling over his face. He was deathly still—too still.
If he heard any of their conversation, he gave no sign of it.
For a moment, the room was silent.
And then Lin spoke.
"...Send him back for now"
Korra's fists clenched, her nails biting into her palms. That wasn't good enough.
"That's it?" she said, voice low and taut with barely restrained fury. "You're not even gonna get him some help?"
Lin exhaled sharply, her face an unreadable mask. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Avatar. We have procedures in place. I'm already doing you a favor by letting you take him at all"
Korra just scoffed at her words.
"A favor?" she threw her arm toward the glass. "Look at him! He's barely conscious"
Lin's expression hardened. "Frankly, if it were up to me, he'd be exactly where he belongs."
"He's not some criminal!" Korra argued, stepping forward.
Lin's expression didn't waver. "That's what you think, Avatar"
The air between them turned electric, crackling with neither of them backing down.
Before either could push further, a calm but firm voice sliced through the tension.
"Now, now everyone."
Tenzin stepped between them, his gaze sweeping over both women.
"It's late" he said, his voice even, measured. "We'll just take him back now"
"But Tenzin—"
"That's enough, Korra."
His tone left no room for argument.
With no words left to say, Lin exhaled sharply and stepped forward. Planting her right foot up front, she raised her hands, then swept them to the side in one weighted motion. The metal wall sharply screeched before sliding open to the other room.
As the metal wall completely opened, the cold air from the interrogation room rushed out, carrying the sterile scent of dried blood and disinfectant. Korra didn't wait for an invitation.
She strode inside, her boots clicking sharply against the floor.
Zhen didn't even react.
His eyes remained half-lidded, his head still bowed. He didn't seem to have acknowledged her presence. For a moment, Korra looked at him, standing just a few feet away.
A muscle in her jaw tightened, clenching her fist tighter than it already was. She dropped to one knee beside him.
"Zhen" she called softly.
No response.
She reached for his arm—his good one, of course—and as soon as he fingers brushed against his wrist, his head turned toward her. His eyes, dulled and unfocused, locked onto hers. Recognition flickered behind them, but it was faint, like a dying ember.
"...Avatar?" His voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper.
"It's me." Korra murmured, grasping his arm softly.
Tenzin followed behind, standing behind Korra.
"The cuffs, Lin" he mentioned, gesturing to Zhen's wrists as he looked at Lin.
Lin exhaled sharply, clearly annoyed, but flicked her wrist, unlocking the metal restraints.
Zhen barely reacted. His hands remained on the table/ the dark, bluish tint to his skin was evidence of how tight his restraints have been,
Korra pursed her lips. Without thinking it over, she reached forward and gently lifted his arm. He didn't resist. He didn't flinch. He let her move him, his body completely lax.
Too lax.
He was barely holding himself upright.
"Looks like I'm not surviving properly today…" he weakly whispered, attempting humor, but instead of laughter, he covered his mouth and coughed—a dry, painful sound that made Korra's stomach twist
"Shut up" she responded, her voice softer than her words.
She understood what he was trying to do, but now wasn't the time.
She looped his arm over her shoulder and hoisted him up. Zhen staggered, his knees buckling almost instantly. Instinctively, Korra tightened her grip around his waist, steadying him. He was heavier than expected, but she didn't let it deter her.
Lin watched the scene with a guarded expression as Korra walked past her.
"Try not to let him cause more problems" she said flatly. "I won't be so lenient next time"
Korra shot her a glare, but before she could snap again, Tenzin held out a hand in front of her.
"Let's go Korra" he said before turning to Lin. "We'll discuss this situation tomorrow."
Lin nodded, her gaze lingering briefly on Zhen before she spoke. "I'll call Tarrlok and send you an update"
Korra ignored the exchange. She had a bigger concern, currently.
"Come on" she whispered, her voice quieter now as she turned to Zhen. "Let's get you home"
He barely nodded, his movements sluggish. "Sure…"
As she led him out of the building and toward Oogi, Korra adjusted her pace to match his weakened steps. Zhen leaned into her without much resistance, his weight pressing against her, but she kept a firm hold.
Behind them, Tenzin followed, silent. He didn't show it, but he was subtly using airbending to lighten Zhen's weight making the walk just a little easier—without letting Korra notice.
—————————————————————————————
[At the same time, Sato Estate]
Mako had thought Kwong's Cuisine was out of his league. Now, standing before the Sato Estate, he realized that was nothing compared to this.
He hadn't planned on coming here—he hadn't even known. A butler had shown up out of nowhere, informing him of a relocation for his date. He'd expected they were heading to Asami's office or maybe a workshop. Somewhere professional. Instead, he was here.
Not just at the gates. Not just at the grand entrance.
Inside.
Somewhere between trying to process the sheer size of the place and stepping through one of its polished hallways, he'd somehow ended up in a dressing room.
"Master Mako, if you keep on staring into nothing, it will be difficult to dress you" the butler remarked, effortlessly wrapping a measuring tape around his waist.
Mako blinked. When had that even started?
"Uh… sorry" he muttered.
The butler didn't give him another glance, moving with the kind of efficiency that only came from years of service. Within minutes, he had Mako's measurements and was already selecting clothes from endless rows of perfectly pressed suits.
Mako sat stiffly as the man worked. He let him dress him, shine his shoes, and even style his hair, though every touch made him more and more aware of how out of place he felt.
By the time they were done, he barely recognized himself. Gone was the rough-edged, factory-worker fashion. In its place, he looked like he belonged in the highest of circles of Republic City—a refined, sharply dressed young man with an air of class.
Well. Almost.
Mako reached for his scarf, looping it around his neck smoothly. The butler, noticing the worn, ragged piece of cloth, moved to remove it.
Mako's hand shot out, gripping his wrist.
"The scarf. Stays" he made it clear.
The butler smoothly stepped aside, bowing his head "As you wish, Master Mako"
After everything settled, Mako was led through the estate, passing through grand corridors adorned with intricate decor. Every hall, every room exuded refinement—polished marble floors, towering windows, framed artwork. It was overwhelming, but he kpet his expression neutral.
Eventually, they reached a set of towering double doors.
"Master Mako, has arrived" the butler announced, his voice carrying as the doors swung open.
The dining hall was as lavish as the rest of the estate. A crystal chandelier hung from the high ceiling, casting a warm glow over the grand space. A long elegant table stretched through the center, set with fine and gleaming silverware, with enough seating to accommodate an entire delegation.
At the far end, seated gracefully, was a young woman with silk-dark hair and piercing emerald eyes, as elegant as she was breathtaking.
ASAMI SATO
AGE: 18
STATUS: Heir to Future Industries
Mako barely had time to take in the sight of her before his gaze shifted to another presence in the room.
At the head of the table sat a man he recognized, though not personally—someone whose name carried weight throughout Republic City.
HIROSHI SATO
AGE: 50
STATUS: Founder of Future Industries
Mako swallowed hard. He hadn't expected this.
Before he could take a step, Asami rose from her seat and gracefully walked toward him, wrapping her arms around one of his own.
"You made it" she said warmly. "I'm sorry for the last minute change. Something came up"
For a moment, Mako was speechless, his mind blank as he looked at her—not just seeing her, but admiring her like a work of art.
"Mako?" she tilted her head, a small smile playing on her lips.
That snapped him out of it.
"Oh, uh" He cleared his throat, trying to recompose himself. "That's fine, The butler filled me in. I heard you were in an accident—are you alright?"
Asami gave a small shrug, leading him toward their seats. "I'm fine. Though Dad's been a little overprotective since then, so we had to move the date here"
As they reached the table, Mako glanced toward the man at the head.
"So… Miss Sato huh, does that mean he's—"
Before he could finish, Hiroshi stood up and approached, his presence commanding yet inviting.
"Whatever you were about to ask my daughter, young man, you would be correct." he extended a firm hand. "Hiroshi Sato, And you must be Mako."
Mako stiffened slightly but quickly took his hand, his grip firm but visibly nervous "Ah, yes, sir—it's nice to meet you, Mister Sato, Sir"
Hiroshi let out a light chuckle. "Please, call me Hiroshi"
Mako gave a tight nod, still gripping Hiroshi's hand a second too long before letting go.
"Come" Hiroshi gestured towards the table, a welcoming smile in place. "Let us eat while we talk"
Mako accepted the offer, following Asami to their seats. She took her place beside him, while Hiroshi settled back at the head of the table. Unlike Mako, who was still adjusting to the overwhelming luxury around him, Hiroshi carried himself with effortless calm—the kind of confidence that came from building an empire from the ground up.
The butlers started maneuvering in perfect sync, placing dishes before them with practiced class. Each plate was an artistic arrangement of grilled meats, fresh greens, and steaming bowls of fragrant broth. Everything was plated so immaculately that Mako wasn't sure if he should eat it or admire it.
He was used to street food—quick meals grabbed between shifts, nothing that required etiquette. Here, every detail felt refined. Even picking up his utensils felt like some kind of test.
"So, Mako" Hiroshi began, unfolding his napkin. "Firstly, let me apologize for disrupting your date with my daughter. I hope it wasn't too much of an inconvenience getting here"
Koff!
Mako nearly choked, swallowing his food too quickly. He quickly reached for his glass, taking a hurried sip of water before clearing his throat.
"I-It's fine" he managed, setting his glass down. "The butler filled me in. I heard there was an accident?"
Hiroshi's unreadable expression darkened slightly, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes before he answered.
"Well, with success comes enemies, young man. There are those who'd rather see Future Industries fall than thrive" he exhaled, shaking his head. "I'm just grateful my daughter is safe. Why, if anything had happened to her—"
"You'll spend all the money you have to eliminate them, I get it" Asami cut in, rolling her eyes with a playful smirk. "You only said it like a dozen times now"
Hiroshi chuckled, though the protective edge in his gaze didn't waver.
"I can't help it" he said, his tone light but firm. "A father worries. I'm just glad I sent that young man with you"
Asami rolled her eyes again, though there was clear affection behind it. "Can we not make dinner about this? Not while we have a guest"
Hiroshi blinked, his features softening slightly as he looked at his daughter.
After a pause, he let out a small sigh.
"You're right sweetheart. We're here to enjoy the evening" he turned back to Mako, a polite but assessing look in his eyes. "Now, let's talk about you, young man"
Mako, who had just taken a bite of food, nearly froze mid-chew. He quickly swallowed, already dreading where this was going.
"Uh… me?"
"Yes" Hiroshi said smoothly, lacing his fingers together. "Asami told me you're quite the probending athlete. It's all the rage these days, isn't it? She's quite a fan."
Before Mako could respond, Asami chimed in excitedly. "You guys are amazing, I've caught all of your matches this season"
"Really? Wow" he rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly self-conscious. "Honestly, there were a few I wish you hadn't seen"
"Oh, don't be ridiculous. You're amazing" she said with genuine enthusiasm, making Mako turn a shade redder. "I can't wait to see you guys play in the tournament"
Mako glanced at her, but there was something in his expression—something hesitant, troubled. He quickly looked down at his plate, his appetite fading.
"Ah, right… well… maybe next year"
Asami frowned. "What do you mean? You made it in"
Mako was quiet for a moment, then shook his head. "It just isn't in the cards for us right now"
Concern flashed across Asami's face. Gently, she reached for his hand.
"Tell me, what's the problem?"
Mako hesitated, conflict clear in his eyes. "I don't think it's right for me to say this"
Hiroshi, who had been watching closely, spoke up. "It's fine, young man. We're not the kind of people who judge others for their struggles"
Mako hesitated, then sighed in surrender. "We don't have the cash to ante up for the championship pot. So… it looks like we're out of the running"
"That's not fair" Asami said, her voice laced with sympathy.
Mako forced a small shrug. "Well, that's just how it is. We'll have to scrape together what we can for next year's tournament"
Hiroshi, already finished with his meal, wiped his mouth neatly with a napkin before speaking again.
"So, if I'm understanding this correctly…" he orderly folded the napkin, setting it aside. "You're dirt poor"
Mako nearly choked on his drink. "Uh, well I—"
"Young man" Hiroshi interrupted smoothly. "That is nothing to be ashamed of. I, too, came from humble beginnings"
"You did?" Mako asked, surprised.
Hiroshi nodded, a knowing glint in his eyes. "Of course, why, when I was your age, I was a mere shoe-shiner. And all I had to my name was an idea… the Satomobile"
Mako listened intently, drawn into the story of Hiroshi's rise from nothing. Then, almost as if a thought had struck him, Hiroshi leaned forward slightly, his tone shifting from casual conversation to business.
"How about this, young man" he rested his hands on the table, gazing sharply at Mako. "What say, I offer you and your team my sponsorship in the tournament?"
Mako froze mid-motion, his spoon slipping from his fingers and clattering onto his plate.
His mind raced. He processed the words once. Twice. A third time.
"Are you serious?" his earlier nervousness evaporated, replaced by sheer disbelief.
Asami beamed, her pure joy evident. "Dad, that's incredible! Do you really mean it?"
Hiroshi gave a firm nod. "Of course, I admire young people with ambition, and I see a spark in you, Mako. It would be a shame to see it fizzle out just cause you were short a few yuans."
Mako's heart pounded in his chest. This was what they needed, a lifeline when they thought they were out. But… why?
"You must be wondering, 'Why?'" It was as if Hiroshi read his thoughts. "'Why is such a successful man willing to make an investment for a young boy he just met?'"
He paused, studying Mako's face, letting the question linger. Mako, still processing, simply nodded, waiting for the answer.
"I told you. I, myself, was in your shoes once, without a penny to my name" Hiroshi pointed out, leaning back on his seat. "Now how do you think I got to where I am?"
Mako considered the question, his brows furrowing. Only one answer came to mind.
"Luck?" he ventured hesitantly.
Hiroshi chuckled, inclining his head slightly.
"You could say that." he proudly agreed to the young man's answer. "I was lucky enough to meet someone who believed in me and my work ethic. He gave me the money I needed to bring my idea to life. And that one selfless loan marked the beginning of my entire Future Industries Empire"
Mako absorbed Hiroshi's words, the weight of them settling in. He glanced down at his plate, his mind racing. He wanted to accept the offer immediately—it was what they needed. But he tried to keep his composure, remaining professional. The last thing he needed was Hiroshi taking it back due to his lack of manners.
"So, I know what it's like to have nothing. And I know what it's like when someone extends a hand at just the right moment." Hiroshi continued, watching Mako closely as he clasped his hands together on the table. "Now, I'd like to be that person for you , Mako"
Mako swallowed, gripping his napkin tightly.
"I…I don't know what to say" he admitted.
Asami interjected, her voice warm with encouragement. "Just accept it. My father really wants to help, and you deserve this."
Hiroshi nodded in agreement before adding. "Of course, there is a catch"
Mako tensed. Of course, it couldn't be pure charity—Hiroshi was still a businessman. He could only hope the terms wouldn't be impossible.
"You'll have to wear the Future Industries Logo on your uniforms"
Mako nodded, agreeing.
'What—what?' he thought.
He processed it a second too late before jolting upright. "That's it?"
Hiroshi leaned forward, smiling. "I'll have custom uniforms made with our company's logo. All I ask is that you and your team wear them."
Mako could hardly believe it. That was nothing—easier than anything he could have imagined. Relief and excitement flooded him, and before he could stop himself, he grinned widely.
"I'll even tattoo it on my chest if you want, Sir!" he declared, thumbing at himself with enthusiasm.
Hiroshi chuckled again, and Asami laughed softly beside him.
As their amusement faded, Mako straightened, his expression turning sincere.
He extended his hand. "Thank you both so much"
Hiroshi stood to shake his hand firmly, and Asami followed suit.
"I promise, the Fire Ferrets will make the most of this opportunity"
"I know you will" Hiroshi said, nodding approvingly. "Now, let us finish our meal and count this as a celebration"
With a snap of his fingers, a line of butlers entered, carrying elegant trays of beverages. They swifty poured the wine into the glasses, the deep red liquid catching the light.
Once all glasses were filled, Hiroshi raised his. "To your success, Mako"
Asami and Mako lifted theirs in turn, the weight of the moment settling in.
—————————————————————————————
[Meanwhile, Air Temple Island]
After picking up Zhen from the Police Headquarters, they brought the battered and barely conscious young man back to the island. Tenzin insisted on having him treated there, though he was quick to dismiss further responsibility.
Korra didn't buy it for a second.
She remembered how isolated Zhen's living space was—it was highly unlikely Tenzin even knew where it was. And even if he did, Korra doubted if he would actually get him treated, aware of how he looked at Zhen.
"I'll take him home" she said, adjusting Zhen's arm over her shoulder.
Tenzin sighed. "Korra, my Acolytes can—"
"They don't even know where he lives" she cut in firmly. "Do you?"
Tenzin hesitated.
That was all the confirmation she needed. Without waiting for an argument, she hoisted Zhen onto her back effortlessly. He stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent before slipping into unconsciousness.
She carried him the whole way, his weight pressing into her, his ragged breath in her ear. By the time she reached the open secluded space he called home behind the metal fence, the moon was high in the sky.
Korra kicked the door open—perhaps a little too hard. The hinges gave way with a loud crack, and the door crashed down to the floor in a cloud of dust.
THUD!
'Oops…' she thought, wincing.
Shaking it off, she stepped inside. The dim glow of the single lamp barely illuminated the tiny, broken-down room. She laid Zhen down as gently as she could—on what she assumed was his bed. Only after pulling back did she really look at his surroundings.
A thin mattress on the cold wooden floor. Flat pillow. No blanket. A table, barely standing. A lone basin. The lamp flickering weakly.
That was it.
Korra swallowed hard. "This is how he lives?"
She kneeled beside him, rummaging through the small pouch of water she carried on the way back. Slowly, carefully, she used her bending to clean and heal his wounds. As the cool water glowed beneath her hands, she watched his face, noting every small wince, every furrow of his brows.
"Why are you living like this…?" she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Her fingers clenched as she healed him. "Why are you letting them…"
She trailed off, shaking her head. What was the point of asking? He wouldn't answer. Or maybe he just couldn't bring himself to.
Minutes turned into hours as she worked, exhaustion creeping into her limbs. When she finally let out a breath and pulled back, she noticed how uncomfortable he looked. His body was tense despite the healing, his expression twisted in pain even in unconsciousness.
"I…I'm sorry…" Zhen mumbled, barely audible. His voice was hoarse, raw, as if the words had been ripped from him.
Korra stilled. Sorry? For what?
Zhen shifted weakly onto his side, his breath hitching. Then, in that same broken murmur—
"Mom…"
She hesitated only for a moment before adjusting herself, gently shifting his head onto her lap. The change was immediate—his shoulders loosened, his breath steadied, the tension in his face easing just slightly.
Korra exhaled, brushing a stray strand of hair from his face.
"You're a real pain in the ass, you know that?" she whispered, though the usual bite in her tone was absent.
The dim light flickered again, casting long, shifting shadows across the walls. She sat there, watching over him, her own fatigue pressing down like a heavy blanket.
As her eyelids grew heavier, she let herself drift, the rhythmic sound of Zhen's breathing lulling her into the quiet embrace of sleep.
—————————————————————————————
[The Next Morning]
The afternoon sun hung high in the sky, its golden light streaming through the windows of Air Temple Island. Birds chirped loudly outside, their melodies blending with the distant sounds of temple life. Lunch had already come and gone, yet one person had missed both meals entirely.
Inside one of the temple's rooms, Korra shifted under the covers, stirring as the warmth of the sunlight struck her face directly. With a groggy groan, she blinked blearily, squinting against the brightness before rolling onto her side in protest.
It didn't help.
She sighed, finally sitting up and stretching, scratching absently at her abdomen as she let out a long yawn.
Ha~
Her mind was still sluggish, the remnants of deep sleep clinging to her. It was the first time since first seeing Amon that she was able to sleep comfortably. But as her gaze wandered around the room, something felt…off.
This was her room.
She frowned. Normally, that wouldn't be anything worth thinking about. But as her drowsiness began to wear off, a single sharp realization cut through the fog in her head.
This wasn't where she had fallen asleep last night.
'Why am I here?' she asked herself, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
The last thing she remembered was falling asleep after healing Zhen. she had been in his broken-down home, exhausted. So how…?
She threw off the covers, ready to bolt out the door when something by the open window caught her eye.
She double checked if there was anything else, then crept closer.
Sitting on the windowsill was a small bundle—tea leaves wrapped in paper, an envelope, and a folded note. She picked it up carefully, tilting her head as she squinted at the name scrawled on the front in the most atrocious handwriting she'd ever seen,
Zhen.
Korra sighed through her nose as she unfolded the note.
Thanks for healing me last night.
I had Naga carry you back when I woke up.
Don't worry about the door, been meaning to get it fixed.
I'll see you when I see you tomorrow night at your party
PS: Tea that helps with fatigue
:)
Korra stared at the childish smiley face at the end, lips pressing into a thin line.
"...Idiot" she muttered, though there was no real annoyance in her voice. Despite herself, she felt the corners of her mouth twitch upward.
But then, as her eyes skimmed over the note again, her faint smile disappeared.
"Party?"
She blinked.
"What party?"
Her mind was completely blank. Was she supposed to remember something?
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Before she could dwell on it further, a knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts.
"Avatar Korra?"
"Yeah?" she answered, still half-distracted.
She pocketed the note and envelope before shuffling toward the door. She swung it open, rubbing her eyes again.
An Air Acolyte stood before her, hands folded neatly in front of them.
"You have a guest in the courtyard" they informed her.
Korra tilted her head. "A guest? I don't—"
KORRA!
A booming voice cut her off, nearly making her jump.
She immediately turned to the window, peering outside.
There, standing in the courtyard, was the other half of the Ferret brothers, waving both arms wildly, his usual enthusiasm on full display.
BOLIN
AGE: 16
STATUS: Morning person
Korra couldn't help but grin.
"Hey!" She waved back before hopping onto the windowsill and leaping down, landing effortlessly on the stone path below.
As she approached, Bolin threw out his arms theatrically, then bowed with exaggerated flair. When he straightened, he held out a small flower and a bagged cupcake with all the grace of a royal attendant.
"For you, my lady" he said in a mock-serious tone.
Korra raised an eyebrow, amused but still took them. "Oh? What's this for?"
"I don't know, hold on. Let me think" he spun dramatically on his heel, placing a hand on his chin like he was in deep thought. Then, with a snap of his fingers, he smiled. "Oh that's right—you saved me from Amon"
Korra blinked, then gave a small, almost hesitant shrug. "Oh… I guess I did"
The weight of that night crept back into her mind. Worrying about Zhen had almost made her forget the eerie, gut-wrenching feeling of watching Amon take someone's bending—permanently. How he had done something only an Avatar was supposed to be capable of. How he had challenged her and everything that made her who she was. The thought made her shudder.
But she quickly shook it off, forcing herself to push it aside. For now.
"Is this all you came here for?" she asked, trying to steer the conversation away from the unsettling memories.
Bolin, ever a bundle of joy, shook his head. "Not really. I was actually looking for Zhen too—I wanted to thank him as well. But the kids says he left a while ago"
At the mention of Zhen, Korra suddenly remembered he had left something for her. She reached into her pocket, pulling it out.
"He left this with me" she commented, crudely opening it to reveal a fancy-looking card decorated in shades of blue. "He also left a note about a party. Know anything about it?"
"Oh!" Bolin reacted instantly, his face lighting up in recognition.
He hurriedly reached into his own pocket and pulled out a card—nearly identical to the one in her hands.
"My brother gave me one too before he left" he said, holding it up for her to see. "Said it's some kind of big event in town—some fancy get together for Republic City's movers and shakers"
Korra frowned, flipping the card over in her hand. "Huh, never pegged him for the type to go to parties."
"You're not the only one"
A familiar voice cut in before Bolin could give his response. They turned to see Tenzin approaching, his usual composed expression slightly soured—though that might've had something to do with Meelo munching on his head.
With a weary sigh, Tenzin pried his son off before waving a similar invitation in front of them.
"We received our invitations as well" he said, his brows furrowed. "Though I don't know how he got these in our pockets."
Bolin blinked. "Wait… so that means Zhen somehow—"
"I don't want to think about it" Tenzin cut in, just before his expression darkened slightly. "Regardless, I heard this party is being hosted by Tarrlok. Which means you should tread carefully, Korra. Who knows what he's scheming with this"
"What does he even want with me? I don't think I've even spoken to him yet" Korra asked, genuinely clueless.
Tenzin exhaled. "I do not know. But it doesn't hurt to be cautious"
Korra glanced down at the invitation, flipping it over in her hand. Amid the elegant design, a small scribble in awful handwriting caught her eye—
See you there.
Zhen
She smiled, tucking the card into her pocket. 'Guess it wouldn't hurt to see for myself…'
The weight of the warning hung over them, but before the tension could settle, Tenzin cut through it like a sharp breeze.
"Anyway" he began, straightening. "I'll be heading to the Police Headquarters to finish the report on Zhen. You continue on with your training"
Korra gave a quick nod.
"Speaking of, where is that boy? I could've sworn I saw him somewhere this morning…"
As if on cue, a soft pat landed on his back. Tenzin turned to see his wife standing there.
PEMA
AGE: 35
STATUS: Pregnant
"He went to City Hall" Pema informed him with an amused smile. "He wanted me to let you know to meet him at the station in the afternoon"
Tenzin's expression shifted to mild outrage. "What? I swear, I'm going to have a word with that boy about following orders."
Pema chuckled at her husband's familiar grumbling. "Don't worry, dear. You, of all people, should know how busy Zhen is after getting assigned to that Task Force you're always complaining about."
"I don't want to think about it. It'll just give me another headache" Tenzin sighed, rubbing his temples.
"Then let's leave the kids to their own for now" Pema said, gently steering him away.
"Bye" Bolin called out cheerfully, waving enthusiastically.
Korra lifted a hand in farewell as well, her wave more subdued.
Just before they disappeared, she turned back to Korra with a knowing smile.
"Oh! And make sure to dress up properly for the party. Your mother sent over a dress for you to wear"
Korra blinked. "A dress?"
She tilted her head, clueless. 'Since when did I have a dress?'
—————————————————————————————————
[Somewhere else]
Republic City bustled as usual, its bright atmosphere masking the growing tension that was starting to lurk beneath.
At the edge of the city, tucked away from prying eyes, stood an abandoned warehouse-like structure. Its windows were boarded up, yellow police tape hung in shreds, and rusted barricades lined the perimeter. It was old, forgotten, empty.
Well, for the most part.
A long figure approached, stepping through broken glass and overgrown roots that had begun reclaiming the space. A half-damaged phantom mask obscured his face, his hood pulled low over his only shown eye as he made his way deeper inside.
"FACELESS"
AGE: ???
STATUS: ANNOYED
He moved without a care, boots hitting the ground loudly, almost as if he wanted someone to hear him.
He moved deeper into the building, his eyes scanning the area before landing on a set of rusted tracks leading underground.
Just as he was about to descend—
Clink-Clink-Clink…
Small steel balls rolled to a stop at his feet, their metallic sheen catching the sun's light.
Then—
PSH!
A burst of pressurized gas filled the air, releasing thick clouds of green smoke. The acrid scent stung his nose, but he remained still, unshaken. The smoke itself wasn't harmful, but as it curled around him, faint shadows flickered in the haze—circling, closing in.
Then, as quickly as it came, the smoke dissipated.
Four figures emerged from the fading mist, their forms solidifying as they dropped to one knee before him in perfect synchronicity.
"Report" Faceless commanded. His voice resonating through the space like a blade.
One of the kneeling Equalists lifted his head and removed his mask, revealing the lined face of an older man.
ZYUREN
AGE: 46
STATUS: Equalist Loyalist
"No issues" Zyuren reported, his tone calm despite the tension in the air "We're prepared to proceed as planned"
Faceless remained still, silent. Waiting.
Zyuren continued. "The dummy hideout is complete. We secured a building in the heart of Dragon Flats Borough, gathered a handful of disposable recruits to pose as our operatives. Should anyone come sniffing around, they'll find exactly what we want them to"
Faceless gave a slow nod but said nothing. The weight of his presence alone was suffocating.
Zyuren hesitated, then, sensing dismissal, lowered his gaze.
But Faceless did not move.
Seconds dragged.
The silence stretched.
Finally, he stepped forward—just once.
"Anything else?" he asked.
His tone was even, almost indifferent. But there was something beneath it—something that made Zyuren's pulse quicken.
Zyuren swallowed, keeping his head bowed as he felt his heart try to escape his chest.
"Sir?" he asked, cautiously. "That… that should be everything"
Another beat of silence.
Then, Faceless knelt.
The simple action sent an unnatural chill through Zyuren's spine.
"I'll give you one chance" Faceless murmured, placing a firm hand on Zyuren's shoulder. The pressure was light—gentle even—but it may as well have been a death grip. "Is there more to report?"
Zyuren dared to glance up—just for a moment.
He regretted it instantly.
Though the mask and shadows obscured Faceless' eyes, the weight of his gaze bore down like an invisible force, pressing against the Equalist's skull, squeezing his breath from his lungs.
His throat tightened.
His skin prickled.
His vision blurred as a raw, primal terror clawed its way into his body.
His instincts scream at him—'Do. Not. Look. Up'
He gritted his teeth, trembling.
"N-No Sir" he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. "There isn't… anything to report."
His body continued to tremble beneath the weight of the gaze fixed upon him, his body betraying him despite his efforts to remain composed.
Then, just as suddenly as it had come, the crushing pressure dissipated.
"I see…" Faceless mumbled, his grip loosening, his voice eerily calm.
Zyuren exhaled shakily, relief washing over him. He thought he was safe.
THWACK!
The impact came without warning.
A brutal slap cracked through the air, echoing across the space.
The force sent Zyuren flying, his body skidding several feet before slamming into the ground. Pain exploded across his face, a searing burn masked only by the numbing shock.
His ears rang, his vision blurred.
Ack!
He gasped back into consciousness, his hand snapping up to clutch the left side of his face.
"S-Sir?" he croaked, dazed, as he tried to look up—
A mistake.
Faceless was already looming over him, his stance rigid, his presence suffocating. His bloodshot eyes glowed like embers in the dim light, locked onto Zyuren with a cold, unrelenting anger.
"Do you think I'm a fool?" His voice dropped, low and dangerous.
"I-I don't understand—"
"You dare to hire benders and act blind?" his voice rose, laced with venom.
Before Zyuren could stammer out a response, Faceless reached out—grabbing him by the collar and hoisting him up as if he weighed nothing.
"What's more" Faceless growled, his grip tightening "You use them to target one of your own people? Innocent civilians with no connection to us!"
His voice echoed like a war drum, vibrating through Zyuren's chest.
Then—
CRACK!
Another vicious slap.
Zyuren's body went slack as he was thrown back to the ground, dust and debris scattering around him.
Pain flared anew, his senses rattling as he choked on his own breath.
"Sir! Please!" he gasped, reaching out to grip the edge of Faceless' coat like a lifeline.
Faceless stared down, unmoved.
"Who gave the order?" He demanded, peering down Zyuren with cold scrutiny.
Then, without hesitation, he drove a vicious kick into the older man's abdomen, sending him rolling across the floor.
"Who" Faceless repeated. "Is bold enough to break the agreement made between me and your leader?"
Zyuren wheezed, his breath ragged as he lay sprawled on his back, pain radiating through his ribs.
"I-I don't know." he croaked, the words barely escaping his lips. "Please… mercy… I really don't know…"
His vision swam, the dim light casting a shadowed blur over Faceless' towering form. He could barely even hear him speak anymore as the ringing got sharper. The only thing he last saw before losing consciousness completely was the way he stood so still—too still.
Then, from the silence, a voice cut through.
"It was under one of the higher up's orders"
The voice was quiet, hesitant, and young.
Faceless turned his head sharply toward the Three Equalists still kneeling, their heads bowed. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating.
One of them, unable to bear it any longer, dared to lift their head.
And there he was.
Faceless stood directly in front of them. No sound. No sign of moving. Just there.
"Lieutenant…" he repeated, the name rolling off his tongue with an eerie stillness.
The unbearable pressure that had settled over them suddenly lifted. A collective exhale. Shoulders slumped. Their bodies stopped trembling.
Faceless didn't waste another second.
"You two—take him to the hospital" he gestured to Zyuren without looking.
The right and middle Equalists scrambled to their feet.
Then he pointed to the last one.
"You. With me"
"Ye—Yes Sir" the Equalist stiffened, quickly rising to his feet with a nervous salute.
Faceless gave a curt nod before turning, his long coat billowing slightly as he strode forward, following the abandoned train tracks.
The Equalist hesitated only for a second before rushing to follow.
They walked in silence, the dim glow of distant lanterns barely illuminating the tunnel. Dim was a generous word—the darkness was almost absolute. The weak flicker of light on the walls barely held back the cold void that swallowed the place whole.
Yet, Faceless moved with no effort, seemingly unbothered being blinded by the dark, as though he could see just fine.
The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. The accompanying Equalist felt the weight of it settling in his chest, making his own steps sound far too loud in his ears.
Then—
"Name?"
The sudden question made Qoru flinch. He hadn't expected Faceless to speak.
"Qoru" he blurted out, sounding as respectful as he could. "Sir"
QORU
AGE: "23"
STATUS: Newbie
Faceless hummed, a low, unreadable sound. "So you're new…"
It wasn't a question, but Qoru still felt compelled to nod.
"How have things been since joining the ranks?"
The realization struck him—Faceless was trying to make conversation.
"It-it's been, well?" he answered uncertainly.
Even knowing Faceless was making an effort to ease the tension, the weight of just being near him still pressed down on him.
Faceless continued to hum, this time slower, as if purposely trying to dispel the unease.
"You must be wondering why I beat your superior senseless back there" he mused, as if grasping for a topic and settling on that.
Qoru stiffened. His mind raced for the right answer.
'Is this a test?' he thought.
Was he supposed to respond? Defend his superior? Condemn him?
He swallowed thickly and stayed silent.
Faceless, however, took his silence as agreement.
"As you may have heard, I, and a couple others, are not completely part of the Equalist movement" he started. "We were gathered separately by your leader. We agreed, of course—for a price and couple promises"
Qoru remained silent, but his ears perked up.
Faceless tilted his head slightly, his tone flat but firm. "We wanted honest recruitment, genuine loyalty, and the safety of anyone unrelated. So we agreed on two thing: Do not harm the nonbenders. Do not manipulate or coerce them into joining."
He let that settle, then glanced back at Qoru.
"And so it happened to reach me that not only did your group hire a pack of bending thugs" his voice darkened. "You targeted an innocent civilian as well."
Qoru remained silent, choosing his best option: saying nothing and looking as non-threatening as possible.
But despite the weight in Faceless' tone, Qoru felt himself easing. He understood where the man stood now. And that clarity alone lifted the tension in his shoulders.
They walked on, the dim tunnel opening into a vast underground chamber at the end of the tracks. Dozens of Equalists stood waiting. Weapons glinted under weak, flickering lights. The air buzzed with something sharp and electric.
Anticipation.
Faceless came to a stop, reaching for the hilt at his waist.
"At least they knew they were in the wrong…" the rasp of steel leaving its sheath cut through the air. "You joined just in time, Newbie. We're about to have some… vacancies"
The implication was clear.
Around them, Equalists took their stances, drawing batons, blades, and other weapons.
Qoru instinctively stepped back, suddenly hyper aware of the entire situation.
Then—
Thud
He collided into someone.
"Who's this?" a playful voice purred beside him.
Qoru turned, only to find himself staring at a petite girl in a white-fox mask. Her fingers twirled a gleaming needle between them.
"NEEDLE"
AGE: 16
STATUS: Called in.
"Newbie"
The voice behind him was much deeper—gravelly, mechanical.
Qoru turned again, this time facing a figure eye level. Completely robed, half their features hidden behind a heavy half gas mask. He stared directly at Qoru like a statue. Steam hissed faintly from vents along his armor and mask.
"STEAM"
AGE: ???
STATUS: Called in
…He was starting to get the feeling that he really, really should not have followed Faceless.
"Keep the Newbie back" Faceless didn't even glance at him as he leveled the tip of his blade at the gathered Equalists. "Don't worry young Equalist—no one is dying today"
Somehow, he didn't find that comforting.
Needle and Steam barely reacted, only offering silent nods as they flanked Qoru, effectively caging him in.
The room tensed.
Then—chaos.
Equalists surged forward, their fear bleeding through their masks as they hurled whatever they could before closing in—throwing knives, bolas, whips, smoke bombs, even flash bags.
Faceless didn't move.
Not at first.
He let them come.
End.