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As much as Zhi itches to leave Haya’s house a pile of ashes, she has more important matters to think of. Midori’s eyes are too big on her thin face and glitter with both sadness and relief. Suiren is harder to read, more serious and closed off than a seven-year-old child should be. Zhi knows that she's heard just a small part of how awful living here truly must have been.
When they’re outside, it’s hardly an improvement. The streets are clean and relatively wide, but despite the rush of people chasing after matters of their own, it’s unnervingly devoid of friendly conversation, street musicians or children playing hide-and-seek between the houses. People don’t seem willing to even raise their heads as they pass them by, the rich greens and browns of their clothing interspersed with dark blue and white uniforms of the White Lotus guards - way too many for Zhi’s comfort.
Gaoling reeks of broken spirit and corruption. Suiren and Midori must feel it too, huddling closer together. Lotus stands in front of them, but her ears are pushed down, eyes alert. Try as she might to not be so viscerally aware of it, Zhi can’t act like she doesn’t know why.
The signs aren’t as prominent as when the Red Lotus was decimated for the first time, but still present - a miasma of distrust pushing people away from each other, weakening communities, affirming the rulers’ influence over their lives.
The measures those in power must have taken against the threat of terrorism are all the more palpable here in the south, so close to home of the newly discovered young Avatar.
Zhi swore to herself she wouldn’t dwell on it anymore, yet the world appears so obviously stricken by their absence and consequences of their failure. The sense of loss awakens, leaving an ashen path through her insides.
Zhi wants to give in, rage and wail and burn everything she sees, nevermind what comes.
(“What the fuck were they thinking?” she paces back and forth, the frenetic movement helping none to calm her down. “They had their own children to think of!”
A fireball emerges from her clenched fist.
“Do you think knowing the reason would change anything?”
Ikiaq’s smooth baritone, now softened into the briefest caress which would usually calm Zhi down, only spurs her on. She detests her calm facade which puts Zhi’s usual pragmatism to shame.
Maybe it’s because Ikiaq knows she had no way to influence this, has nothing to blame herself for. But can Zhi say the same?
Did she overlook some secret message in the letters?
“I should have been there,” she half-whispers. “I wouldn’t let this happen.”
“My dear…” Ikiaq rubs her warm, callused palm across her back. “You couldn’t have possibly overseen each of their choices. This isn’t your fault.”
A stream of protest freezes on her tongue. She’s grasping at straws, she’s aware - yelling at destiny or Spirits or whoever the fuck orchestrated this shitshow to take it all back; in the end, the only answer is the echo of her broken voice. The world is not fair, she knew as much; but the way it seems to punish her beloved children for trying to change it is downright cruel.
She fists her hand on the back of Ikiaq’s tunic and falls into quiet, trembling sobs against her chest.)
Zhi swallows against the lump slowly expanding in her throat.
It feels like forever for their cart to arrive. The driver’s hair sticks to his scalp, a thick layer of dirt behind his yellowed fingernails. He wears a deep scowl and scrunches his nose as if against an onslaught of some putrid stench.
Zhi previously negotiated with someone else, but knows that asking questions won’t help. The more plain and to the point she is, the less complicated this will be.
“I'm going to need one more spot,” she points to Lotus who's been attempting to make herself invisible behind her legs, but now narrows her eyes and quietly growls at the man.
He shakes his head. “There is an empty cage in the back. No way I'm letting that beast roam freely.”
Zhi wonders why he might have it in the first place; she doesn’t want to know.
“Lottie hates cages!” Suiren interjects, stepping forward with a ferocious expression.
Zhi suppresses a chuckle.
The man notices her and leans down to menacingly stare.
“You must be the swamp brat your aunt told me so much about,” he snarls.
Suiren’s gaze trembles, but she balls her palms into fists and stands to her full height. It isn’t much, but it doesn’t deter her.
“So what?” she challenges, surprisingly loud.
“Then better be glad that she didn’t manage to sell that thing to the circus like she intended,” he grumbles.
Suiren takes in a sharp breath.
“She-she wouldn't.”
“We already had a deal. So if you want to keep it, no bargaining,” he finishes, obviously enjoying the way Suiren deflates.
She still tries to give him her meanest glare, her lower lip quivering. Then she turns away and grasps Lotus’ collar and leads her towards the back. The man is right behind, setting down the cage none-too-gently on the road, particles of yellow dust flying everywhere. Midori covers her mouth with a too-long sleeve.
Lotus bites after his fingers as soon as he draws near.
“Make that thing behave or I’ll leave it here,” he threatens.
Suiren pets the moose-lion’s head with a trembling hand, quietly whispering endearments. The poor animal turns docile ridiculously fast and lets herself be led into the web-covered cage. Then the man lifts it up and secures it at the back of the cart.
As he moves back to the front and passes her by, Zhi catches him in a glare that must be enough to sour a pitcher of fresh milk. He just scowls back. She keeps the swear-peppered tirade on the back of her tongue and counts to ten internally. It’s hard to say what crawled up his ass and died but if he was on talking terms with Haya, he can’t be reasoned with. They need to leave this Spirits-damned place already.
A short ladder leads inside through an irregularly shaped cut in the cart cover. Zhi gestures at the girls to climb in.
Suiren takes Midori's hand and helps her up even though she can't weigh much more than her sister. She's nothing if not stubborn, though.
When Zhi reaches for Midori, the girl halts her movement, gaze wide. As softly as she’s capable, Zhi places her hands under her armpits and lifts her up. Suiren then follows on her own, and Zhi is the last.
Midori sits on the box placed in the corner, pulling her knees close to her chest. Light peeks inside only through holes in the cover. At least the dark interior doesn’t illuminate where the stale pungent smell comes from.
Zhi sits down, wincing slightly on her right side. She packed several apples, but as much as the girls are in desperate need of proper feeding, the air around them doesn’t exactly encourage appetite. She has a clean blanket, at least. It won’t do wonders, but anything to make them more comfortable.
She hands it over and both girls waste no time before they wrap themselves in it up to their necks.
The cart moves, finally, and Zhi braces herself against the familiar nausea. Fortunately, the man doesn’t ride like an absolute madman. Zhi didn’t expect that to be one of his surely few redeeming qualities, but she’s not complaining.
Soon, Midori’s head drops on Suiren’s shoulder and she is lulled asleep by the rhythmic movement. Suiren must be exhausted too - her eyelids are droopy, but she fights it, at one point pinching herself under the blanket. When Zhi leans closer to a larger hole in the cover to gulp down some fresh air, she feels Suiren’s cautious gaze on her.
Even though any alternative must have been preferable to staying with Haya, that doesn’t mean the older girl is anywhere close to letting her guard down. Zhi can’t really blame her for expecting some sort of a trick. It will be a while until she convinces her that her hands are empty.
In the dim light, Suiren’s irises catch a warmer, darker glint. Just like years ago - watching her every step with unapologetic distrust, trying to assess her motivation or spot proof of a hidden agenda.
Zhi moves the curtain - or whatever is left of it, eaten through by moths - to refresh her gaze with another dose of green. The image disappears.
Now that she’s sitting, exhaustion tugs at her, offering a brief respite in simply letting her eyes rest. Maybe then Suiren would relax too. But since the girl is so wary of her, she might wake up Midori and run away, leaving the two of them to fend for themselves in the harshness all around. She can’t risk it.
She owes Ghazan’s children more than growing up on the street only to eventually fall into the merciless clutches of law, created by those at the very top who care only for their lost property, not circumstances that force kids to steal. Ming-Hua’s daughters deserve better than to have their heritage insulted.
No matter who their parents were, any child in their position deserves a better fate, Zhi mentally chides herself. She just happens to be in a position to hopefully make a difference for these two.
Suiren eventually loses her fight against sleepiness, her head falling against Midori’s, mouth slightly open, brows smoothing out but with a hint of permanent crease between them. The blanket loosens from her frame, exposing a bony shoulder. Zhi wants to pull it tighter around her, but doesn’t want to disrupt her sleep and startle her.
Zhi doesn’t know how much time passes, but a grumble from the driver lets her know that they’re almost there. She leans forward and gently taps Suiren’s shoulder. The girl’s eyes open wide and she flinches back, raising her arms in what seems a well-practiced reflex. Even as she becomes more aware of her surroundings, her muscles remain tense.
“Master Zhi. We left Haya’s house together,” Zhi reminds, just in case.
Suiren keeps frowning, but lets her arms drop. Her gaze strays from side to side, disoriented.
“Where are we?” she asks, voice rough with sleep.
“Western to the Foggy Swamp.”
Her eyes light up, then fall. She blinks rapidly.
“Is that where we're headed?” she inquires; it must take all her effort to keep her voice steady.
Zhi wonders which answer she dreads more.
“Not really. We'll pass it by, but we're heading North, to Omashu,” she clarifies.
Suiren nods, familiar with the location. Tension dissipates from her frame.
It seems to be the correct answer. Is she relieved that they won’t visit a spot most associated with memories of her mother?
“Have you ever been there?” she inquires.
Suiren shakes her head, looking away. “I just recognize the name,” she says instead. The implication hangs in the air unsaid.
“Let me wake up Midori,” she switches the topic, hiding her face further from view.
It appears she misstepped. Is there even a way to not remind Suiren of what she lost? To not remind herself?
This isn’t about you, a firm scold puts a hold on her wallowing.
Whatever grief Zhi experiences, it’s incomparable to two girls losing every piece of love and surety in their lives and becoming punching bags for a vengeful, bitter woman. The latter didn’t even have to happen had Zhi gotten over herself earlier.
Midori rubs sleep from her grey eyes; when she spots Zhi, her expression lights up.
“So it wasn’t a dream!” she exclaims with joy and relief, then immediately lowers her head. “Sorry for yelling,” she adds in a meeker tone.
Zhi’s chest swells only to painfully squeeze again.
“You don’t need to apologize,” she considers reaching out for a soft caress, but she doesn’t want to give off the wrong impression. “You can be excited and loud… or anything.”
Zhi’s attempt at reassurance feels painfully inadequate; Midori’s mouth still moves in a quivering hint of a smile. At the first chance she gets, Zhi will spoil this child rotten - buys her fruit flavored ice shavings, any trinket she would like, lets her sleep in until late afternoon (well, the last one is more likely to work on her) - if that’s what it takes for her to unabashedly grin from ear to ear.
She doesn’t fool herself, though. She’s not a naturally kind person. Her best efforts may turn out not enough to fully reverse the damage inflicted by Haya, and will certainly come awfully short of the overflowing love they were raised with.
(“When are you leaving?”
Zhi shrugs. That movement costs a lot of effort. Her mind swims in sweet oblivion, edges of the world blurred. Or maybe it’s herself who’s losing contours. She likes that idea.
Ikiaq moves to take the untouched bowl of now cold broth from the table next to her bed, but then she puts it back down with a firm clink. She swings out her arm and suddenly Zhi is drenched.
“What the fuck?” she sits up, too shocked to pay attention to the way her head spins and heart begins to race in irregular rhythm.
“You can’t keep doing this,” Ikiaq stares her down, her gaze shimmering with frustration and something else. “It’s been a month.”
“I know,” she answers in a broken little whisper, because what else is there to say?
“Think of the girls,” Ikiaq’s tone is as close to pleading as it gets. “They need you.”
“They need their parents.” Locked away Spirits know where, or dead. Zhi doesn’t know which option rends her more.
“If it wasn’t for the letters,” her breath hitches, as has been the case lately whenever she skims too close to saying her name out loud, “I wouldn’t even know they exist.”
“But you do know,” Ikiaq reminds, getting impatient. “And you know the alternative. You have the obligation to save them from that woman.”
“I will, Ikiaq. I will,” she proclaims, and wants to sound like herself - grounded and stable. This sad wreck lost to selfish escapism can’t be the same person. It’s like Zhi isn’t even there, locked out just close enough to observe the mess but incapable of putting a stop to it.
Conflict is pressed so clearly in the pronounced worry lines on Ikiaq’s forehead, her lips pushed tight together to suppress their quivering.
“I’ll hold you to that,” she says at last. That frown promises dire consequences if Zhi disappoints her again.)
The market is full of noises and chatter, but Zhi welcomes it more than the persistent sense of being watched in Gaoling. Suiren appears slightly dazed, flinching away from loud voices, covering her ears with both hands. Lotus at her side softly bumps into her.
“Renny is sensitive,” Midori explains when she notices Zhi’s concerned look.
Zhi admires the girl’s perception, trying to not focus on who it reminds her of, or the reason why she had to learn to spot even the slight shifts of mood around her.
“We’ll only get supplies and then we’re gone,” she promises. Suiren visibly perks up.
What a sight they must make - an old hag more wrinkled than a prune left out at noon; two kids who look around warily, tattered clothes hanging limply from their frames, a moose-lion cub trailing behind them. Some well-meaning idiot might draw all sorts of wrong conclusions.
Zhi first gets them both a warm meal they can eat immediately - spring rolls with a side dish of wheat noodles - then items bound to last. She doesn’t try to be frugal. The girls could use some more fat on their cheeks.
Then they reach a stand that sells fabrics. Zhi hates sewing, but she hates the sight of them in those ill-fitting rags even more. New clothes are a must.
Suiren points at the first shade of dark blue she spots and then steps away, meandering between people to somewhere less crowded. Midori meanwhile coos over everything she sees, eagerly reaching for vivid red velvet only to then notice bright yellow see-through fabric.
Now that she’s seen the first hints of that lovable, excited girl from the letters, Zhi can’t stand to put a stop to it. But she doesn’t want to lose sight of Suiren; besides, Midori would clearly be the happiest wearing everything from the display, regardless of functionality.
This will require subtlety.
“How about this?” she gently grasps an understated light green linen, sturdy enough to last a couple seasons but not overly thick or scratchy.
Midori lays a hand on the fabric, expression opening in unguarded wonder.
“It’s so pretty,” she says, mouth agape around the last wovel.
“Would you like that one?” Zhi encourages.
Midori nods excitedly. Zhi is pleased to see that this time, it comes without the wince of self-consciousness.
Suiren has moved further away from them, but something caught her eye. When Midori notices, she halts too. The vendor’s display is full of freshly baked pastries.
“What is it?” Zhi asks.
“Dad baked them for us,” Suiren mumbles, shyly pointing her head towards cinnamon buns. “They were my favorite.”
Zhi takes out her purse again.
“You don’t have to,” Suiren protests. “We already ate.”
“So?”
“Food is expensive,” she averts her gaze, pulling at the threads of her shirt. “You don’t need to pour your money down the drain.”
Those words didn’t originate in her head. As soon as she puts the girls to sleep, Zhi will go back and strangle Haya with her bare hands. Add some fire, too.
The image gets her blood pumping, but it’s just a vessel of her helpless rage. She craves to steer it towards a target so she can be rid of it.
(So it doesn’t address her part.)
No revenge will undo Haya’s abuse. Zhi needs to direct that energy to something actually worthwhile.
She unclenches her jaw and shows the vendor two fingers. He deliberately picks the largest ones and hands them over with a small wink. Zhi lets him keep the change and places one bun wrapped in brown waxpaper into Midori’s palms - she stares at it as if expecting it to vanish, then her eyelids flutter as she takes a large bite - and hands Suiren the other one.
Suiren eyes it warily, then her sight skips to Zhi, glossy and inquisitive. Her suspicion diminishes, mouth corners briefly softening. It’s achingly tender, yet Zhi would prefer her excitedly pointing to every treat she sees and asking if she can have it. Or Zhi would just provide her with a small pouch of her own so she doesn’t need to ask for permission.
They slowly leave the village while the girls are indulging in their treats. Midori is finished first, cheeks lightly smeared with sugar dust. She walks with more spring in her step.
Suiren eats about a half, then hastily wraps it in paper.
“Don’t you like it?” Zhi asks.
“It’s delicious,” she replies. “But I better save it for later.” Her gaze briefly strays to Midori. Zhi doesn’t need more to put two and two together.
It might take a while until she lets herself be taken care of without thinking of Midori first. Zhi insisting that she eat it probably won’t help. How to get through that hard little head?
“We have a long way ahead of us,” Zhi says, trying to sound serious. “You’ll need plenty of energy to keep up.”
Suiren blinks, then her brows furrow. “I’m not tired,” she retorts.
There it is, that reactive spite.
Zhi purses her lips in feigned doubt. “I’m not so sure. Soon you’ll be hungry and go at a snail’s pace.”
She carefully avoids even the slightest implication that she’d deny her food if that happened. She wants to coax out her spark, not make her scared of starving.
“I bet I’ll be faster than you!” she proclaims and proceeds to stuff her mouth full. She finishes the bun in what must be record time, and then stomps ahead, steps comically long. Lotus trots just behind her.
“Wait, Renny!” Midori wants to keep up, but this tempo would just tire her out. Zhi gently halts her with a hand on her shoulder.
“We’ll catch up to her, don’t worry. There’s no rush,” she assures softly. Where Midori initially tensed at the contact she now leans back against Zhi’s hand. The difference is barely noticeable, but it’s there.
Zhi is too full of something that threatens to choke her, soft and painful at the same time. The trust Midori shows after knowing her for barely half a day feels like too precious of a gift to ruin. She’s not sure how to proceed, how much affection is appropriate.
“Look,” she points at the edge of the road, where a plant in bloom attracted a large, iridescent butterfly.
Midori’s eyes light up and she draws closer, until she almost touches the insect with the tip of her nose. Its wings flutter and it flies away, but the amazed look on Midori’s face stays.
The road thins, the margins fading into grass yellowed in the sun, then more bushes and tall herbs appear. Midori doesn’t seem to mind the scratches - she runs after everything that moves, and then joins Suiren to happily chatter about everything she spotted.
Zhi can’t hear them too well, but she sees the older girl nodding along and Midori lighting up even more, taking Suiren’s hand and dragging her away so she can show her. Lotus, of course, doesn’t want to be left out, and makes her way through the thickest growth until her fur is covered in tiny thistle blossoms.
The girls burst into laughter when they see it, then even louder when they notice that their own clothes and hair are also full of them. Midori manages to pull most off, but when she tosses them away, they land on Suiren’s leg.
“I’m sorry, Renny, I didn’t mean to!” she quickly apologizes.
A coy smile tugs at Suiren’s mouth, then widens into a playful grin. That sight jabs under Zhi’s ribcage.
She tears off more thistles from her own shirt and throws them at Midori. “It’s on!”
Midori gasps, then giggles in delight and reciprocates the attack. Their play continues, the girls chasing each other, then going back to collect more thistle munition, Lotus running around in circles, trying to catch the blossoms with her mouth.
Zhi observes them from far enough to not interrupt their game, resisting the sting in her eyes. How long has it been since they were allowed to fool around like this?
A strange mix of regret, grief and joy dance inside her, one leading, then following the other until they become indistinguishable.
She should have come sooner; all the more if she knew how bad things really were. She never considered herself a maternal person, but now she can envision her future like this: making sure Suiren and Midori are well-fed, comfortable and happy.
And yet, her affection can’t possibly be enough; a few drops of water compared to the desert of Haya’s ruthlessness, but awfully little to make anything grow.
Zhi rubs at her dry eyes, triggering an itch. Whether or not she feels competent, it’s the only option they all have. Better make the most of it.
The girls’ movements are getting slower, especially Midori. When they notice Zhi catching up, they both stop, then try to hide the last thistles tangled in their clothes and hair.
They still expect punishment.
“It will get dark soon. We should go a bit off the road and set up a camping spot,” she says, objective but calm.
The girls look at each other - Midori uncurls from her slouched stance, Suiren stands taller and her stubborn determination returns.
As they make their way through the field, the sky starts to bleed red. Midori stumbles a couple times. In this light, it's harder to spot rocks sticking out from the ground.
They’re far enough at this point. No need to exhaust them beyond measure. All they need is a nice, secluded spot.
A small clearing enveloped by a couple young trees is all the invitation Zhi needs.
“We can spend the night here,” she announces. They both seem relieved to hear that - Midori sits down on the grass, Suiren lets her shoulders slightly drop.
Zhi makes quick work of spreading out the blankets and hands the girls some fruit in case they get hungry later.
She tries to think of what else they might need, but this heat doesn't require a campfire. Zhi pulls out her own futon and before she lies down, she decides to check on the girls one last time.
Midori is curled into her sister’s side, asleep or quite close to it. Suiren is still awake.
“Get some good rest,” Zhi says, just to fill the silence.
Suiren nods.
“I haven’t seen Midori this happy in… six months,” she murmurs after a while, voice fragile as if about to crack.
Zhi’s chest constricts again. No four-year-old should go half a year without smiling and playing without a care; just like her older sister should have never forgone her childhood to take on a role of a self-sacrificing parent herself.
“It’s the least you both deserve,” she replies truthfully.
Suiren's eyes glisten, that much is apparent even in the blurred grayness of twilight.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
By the choked up note in her tone, Zhi would be wise to give her some privacy. It must be a lot to take in.
She’s had just about enough, too. Zhi returns to her futon and lies down, hoping the breeze’s quiet lullaby in the leaves will eventually ease her into sleep.
Time passes; stars glitter in the ink of the night. The ground occasionally rustles with movement of some small creatures. Her eardrum feels stretched thin, too sensitive to each little disruption.
Zhi shifts on the left side, resisting her frustration. Her heartbeat is regular, but still too quick to pass as relaxed. Her legs ache with a full day’s worth of travel. She needs some rest. Why won’t her body get the message?
Something firm presses into her hip. She searches her pockets and pulls out a glass vial. She isn’t sure how she still has it.
She shakes it, hearing the unmistakable slosh of liquid still inside - assuming from the weight, just a few drops left.
Her hands move on their own, opening the bottle. Can she really afford being drowsy from the lack of sleep when she has two girls to take care of and protect? Just a little bit to take the edge off.
(Ikiaq finds her awake at dawn, eyes stuck on the endless horizon.
“I never thought I’d ever see you up with the sun,” she chuckles.
“Don’t get used to it,” she replies, but it lacks the spirit of their usual snarky banter. The trembling of her limbs has almost completely diminished by now.
A warm shoulder brushes her own as Ikiaq sits next to her.
“It’s the third day. Almost over,” she reminds patiently.
Zhi nods, absentminded.
“You’ve made it, oakling,” she murmurs next to her ear and brushes a dry kiss on her cheekbone.
Zhi nods, unable to open her mouth lest she wants everything to spill out. The numbness will soon wear off entirely, and everything will become undiluted and razor sharp. She’s not ready - even ten years from now on would be too soon - but there’s no other way.)
Zhi screws the lid back on, tight enough to sting her skin, and throws it away with as much force as she can manage; her shoulder spasms uncomfortably. Tempting words of craving always try to appeal to her rational side. She's been here before - nothing new to discover by diving in again. Several metres away from her - now hopefully both sound asleep - lie all her reasons to keep herself afloat.
Her clothes bite and scratch against her skin. Zhi can’t breathe. She needs to get away.
She leaves the camping spot, not too far but distant enough so she doesn’t have to worry about waking up the girls.
She sits down in some parody of the Lotus position, begging her hip joints to cooperate. She slows her breaths and wills herself to calm down. She considers each thought carefully before she addresses it.
Shufen’s betrayal hurt far less than this persistent awareness that each moment, whether she’s awake or asleep, they’re subjected to whatever atrocities the White Lotus came up with. That knowledge tainted her dreams until Zhi avoided sleep at all costs. And even then, her suffering was nothing compared to what they must be going through.
Zhi eventually remembered what saved her once - close herself tight, tune out her fantasies in the stark mockery of reality, live and hold on through another day.
(Until a bright, wounded girl came along and needed guidance so badly that Zhi overcame her self-imposed barriers to become a worthy mentor to her.)
It got easier, the worst already behind her… until she met them. Suiren is almost a copy of her mother save for dark brown skin, Midori resembles what Ghazan could have looked like when he was a child.
Memories surge against the walls entrapping them, slowly but surely seeping through. Zhi might have shut them away, but their intensity is nowhere near reduced.
She loved her former student with more ferocity and deliberate care than she believed herself capable, and grew just as fond and protective of the rest of the close-knit family they all found in each other. It inspired her to do better and live again, and now Zhi knows that this love will never end; and so won’t her grief over their fate.
She puts her hands on the grass, the cool soft brush on her skin a welcoming relief to her overwhelmed senses. She closes her fist around a chunky rock, focuses her gaze on her surroundings. A cloud in the night sky moves along on its way, allowing moonlight to filter through. It has a couple days left to fill out completely.
Somewhere, thousands of miles away, Ming-Hua gazes at the same moon, feeling the growing tug in every vein. Zhi refuses to imagine how the White Lotus keeps her away from water that is an essential part of her being able to take care of herself. Thinking of that - same as wondering how they’re able to contain a fully realized combustionbender, whether they chained her like an animal, or mutilated her - leads to the same path of self-destruction Zhi fought tooth and nail to come back from.
Had it been just her, Zhi knows, she wouldn’t hesitate before succumbing to any means of forgetting, Spirits damn it all. With a slight tug of her heart, she also admits that even the effort of her partner might not have been enough. But as small and insignificant she felt - incapable of helping them, nothing short of useless - her choices still had impact.
Two wonderful children already knew what it meant to starve - of food, affection, attention, and hopes for the future. And while Haya is definitely to blame, Zhi’s inaction also contributed to it.
“Forgive me,” she gazes up to the moon, strands of white light stinging in her raw eyes.
Maybe it’s just her guilty conscience grasping at any chance to relieve itself; maybe it’s her sorrow-deranged mind latching at the last vestiges of spirituality that withstood her neglect. But if she allows herself to pretend that the moon, Ming-Hua’s oldest ally - the only one she can currently see - can somehow channel her message, it’s just between her and the night.
“I took longer than I should have. There’s no excusing it,” she mutters.
She imagines the tiny waterbender questioning her in the same way Suiren did: what the hell took you so long? She envisions her former student glaring with disdain for Zhi not stepping in as soon as she could to help the girls she loved as her own.
She hears many other words, her own self-loathing shoved into the mouths of her loved ones. Then she lets it all dissolve. Silence embraces her.
“Spirits know how you three convinced her to kidnap a child. But you went there, knowing that your own kids wait for you,” she continues in a harder tone, but without overt blame.
Once again, she wonders - how can they subdue a waterbender as agile and creative as Ming-Hua - but stops herself in time.
“No one deserves what they undoubtedly came up with for you. I'm so sorry,” she continues, genuine sympathy bleeding from her words.
Nothing could possibly make it easy to withstand, but perhaps the thought of her beloved daughters will keep her hanging to the thread of life. Zhi knows that in her position, she’d uproot the Tree of Time itself if she had to.
It comes as a surprise when it perhaps shouldn’t - Zhi is in the very same spot.
She took in the girls to save them from abuse and pain, and unknowingly accepted her own salvation from despair. She didn’t think it possible to feel affection and joy again until she saw the two of them laughing and playing. The girls needed her, and all this time, she might have needed them just as much.
Something inside her cracks open, spilling out moths worth of festering guilt and grief. Zhi’s throat constricts, then loosens in a desperate, wounded wail.
She breaks into sobs, tears finally flowing without holding back. She cried before, countless times, and it offered no release, only tugged her deeper under. Now it’s different - somehow cleansing, stripping her off a heavy, heavy burden.
Zhi might have failed her partner, she chose over and over to abandon herself, but she will not fail and abandon these girls.
“I’ll take care of them,” she speaks with new resolve even through her sniffs. “I swear to you I will do my best to care for them as my own.”
In a way, they never were anything else.
“And you, try to survive. They still need you.”
The fantasy of the Red Lotus breaking out at any moment, of Zhi suddenly figuring out where they're kept and doing it on her own, is the one that will be the hardest to say goodbye to. She lays it out on the soft moss in front of her, hoping against all hope that somehow, this ruthless world can someday spin itself in a better direction and not forget about them entirely. She can’t do anything else.
There’s still some life left in her, and enough power to do good. And if saving herself requires embracing what Zhi believed herself unfit for, she can learn again; how to best care for Suiren and Midori, grow alongside them, and let that love guide her wherever it will.