“I’m not going!”

“Where are you going to go Zo?” Mao stared at him sternly. They were busy in their room packing their bags. He was sitting on his bed with his arms across his chest and glared at her holding his mother's scarf tightly in his hands. Why did they have to leave their home? It was their home. Now someone else was going to take it away and take them away. Why did they have to go away?

“Somewhere!” he shouted angrily at his sister.

“Zo, mom’s dead, there’s nowhere for us to go,” Mao told him, “The orphanage will give us an opportunity to find a new home.”

“I don’t want a new home!” he reacted without thinking. Mao sighed.

“I know you don’t understand right now, but we can’t stay here. Another family needs it,” Mao tells him and tries to put her hand on his shoulder. He pushes her off.

“I don’t care about them!”

He leaps up as he says so and further pushes his sister away. Mao tries to reach out for him. Stupid Mao. She didn’t understand. Why is when someone is gone you have to make the family leave? Why did another family have to come in here? He didn’t care where he was going. Right now it seemed like Mao only cared about other people.

What was better for them? He didn’t want a new mother. He didn’t want a new father. Or a new home. Why couldn’t they just stay in their home? They knew how to get food. Get money.

He pushed past the noise and bustle of the city. Why did their mom have to get ill? Why did she have to leave?

Tears blurred his vision. A car horn went off when he got in their way. The smell of leftover rain. The sound of footsteps. He’s going to their mother’s favorite place. The port. Near the bay.

His stepped in a leftover dried out puddle and continued to run. He wanted his lungs to burn. He wanted to feel the sea. He wanted to feel his mother. Before she was sick. Why did she have to get sick? Why did she have to leave them alone?

A cool breeze hit him. It brushed across his hair and it felt close enough to his mother’s embrace. Why didn’t Mao understand what he wanted? The port was busy as always. People putting crates onto boats. People coming and going from the Republic City to other Nations. His mother use to take them here so they could watch the waves.

He could remember her voice standing on the port, “your best offense is your best defense, water takes your opponent's power, redirects it. Fire is versatile, its power depends on what you fuel it with. It can be sheer raw power, or it can be something greater. Watch the waves, understand your element.”

If Mao was going to take them away from their home. If she was on everybody else’s side. She’d have to find him. He decided if she really loved him and their mother she’d have to find him. Pushing through the crowded port he snuck onto a boat without anyone noticing. Mao knew where he’d go. Mao knew where their mother liked to go.

It was simple. Mao had to find him to prove that she cared. Sitting in a corner as adults began to also walk onto the boat, he hugged his knees to his chest, and began to cry into his kneecaps. She didn’t have to leave them. She could have waited. They could have found medicine that would make her better. It just had to be the right medicine. She shouldn’t have given up so easily.

Left them all alone. Why? He didn’t understand why she had to go. Why she couldn’t hold on, so they could make her better? He wanted this all to be a bad dream. One he could wake up from and the results would be different.

It only really dawned on him that Mao wasn’t coming when the boat began to rock back and forth. As it began to sail away from the port. The point wasn’t to go. It was so Mao could find him. Scrambling up from the wood deck floor, he ran over to the edge.

He didn’t want a new home. He didn’t plan to leave either. Should he jump over the edge to try and make it to the port? Should he tell a bigger adult he isn’t meant to be here? Would they take him back and then go on their trip?

He was too scared that he’d get in trouble if he spoke with an adult. So he slipped through the crowds hoping to not be noticed. Maybe he’d just stay behind and ride the boat back to Republic City. No one noticed him get on, and none of the adults noticed him here now. He’d apologize to Mao for getting so mad at her. He held his mother’s scarf close to his chest.

Looking over the edge of the boat, Chameleon Bay, a bustling hotspot these days as a port was built and a small village around it, looked very different from what he was use to in Republic City. There was something rustic about it. Old, but modern. He tried to stay on the boat as long as he could. He caught the eye of one of the boat workers.

“Where are your parents?” the worker asked.

He scowled, but wrapped the scarf around his neck. It still smelled like their mother’s rose water perfume. The whole idea of sneaking back to Republic City seemed diminished now.

“Over there,” he pointed to a large crowd walking into Chameleon City.

“Well you better not miss them,” the worker told him.

“Yes sir,” he said.

Walking off the boat. The smells were different here. It smelled earthy. The colors were different, more earthy. Ba Sing Se wouldn’t be too far of a travel from here, that’s where most of the visitors on the boat were going to Ba Sing Se. He felt butterflies in his stomach. What did he do now? Now uneasiness never really suited him. He knew how to get money. He knew how to work. He knew how to take care of himself. They were doing it when their mother got sick.

Nervously he walked up to some wagon rides that tourist took to Ba Sing Se to see public landmarks in the Earth Kingdom desserts. What exactly is a landmark in the Earth Kingdom, rocks? He looked around. Surrounded by strange crowds.

“Excuse me,” he walked to the window, there a large woman, with big purple lips stared at him, she had big green earrings and wore an ugly green dress that made her look even fatter.

“What is it?” she barked.

“I’d like to get to Ba Sing Se,” he mumbled.

“Where are your parents?” she asked.

“I’m…” he nervously looked away, “....” he paused, “I can pay.”

“Can you?” she asked looking skeptical.

He still had some allowance money in his pockets. Sticking his hands in there he took out the money he had leftover from his birthday and part of his allowance. She raises one of her thick eyebrows and leaves him one coin.

“I don’t have time to babysit runaways,” she sneers at him, “Just get on the wagon and look natural.”

Grabbing his one coin and a ticket the woman slid to him he lined up where others were lining up to get on wagons to head to Ba Sing Se. He realized they would be stopping to look over certain hot spots. Things like, and this is where the avatar hundreds of years ago landed. As if it were a big deal. He felt butterflies in his stomach. He wondered if Mao was looking for him or had been looking for him. He had been gone for a while now he was sure. He didn’t want to scare anyone. He was just so angry and hurt.

“Ticket,” an older man asked him.

“Oh here,” he said handing him the ticket the woman gave him back at the window.

“The tour wagons will take us to significant parts of the desert, till we enter the station to the new Ba Sing Se Monorail, there it will take you to Ba Sing Se,” the man told him, he had a funny looking mustache like that of handlebars, he was rather skinny and wearing a conductor’s uniform.

“Okay thank you,” he mumbled heading into the wagon. There were other people here as well. The wagon was a small bus that sat six or eight people at a time. He looked around for an empty seat, a kid probably a little younger than him waved him down and moved his toy out of the way for him to sit. His hair was shaved at the sides with a single, small ponytail sticking up.

He gave him a toothy grin.

“Hi! I am Shuu,” he said.

“Zoze,” he replied.

The kid leans on the seats looking behind him. He points to a beautiful woman wearing a brown dress, with a pearl necklace, and a small hat with a veil. Her lips were bright red, her black hair tied and pinned in a bun.

“That’s my mom,” Shuu tells him, “We’re going to go visit my grandpa.”

“Oh,” he mumbles.

“Why are you here? I am excited to ride in the monorail, they built the monorail further out towards the newer cities so they could get to Ba Sing Se quicker. I like trains. I want to work there one day like my dad. Where are your parents?” Shuu asked dangling and swinging his legs back and forth.

He wished he could sink into the wagon seats and hide. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to address the other kid. He felt both alone, but stubborn and determined to continue onwards with what fate had dealt him.

“My parents are home,” he mumbles an awkward answer out. Though Shuu seems to accept it, in fact Shuu is staring at him with a very impressed stare.

“How old are you?” Shuu asked, “Your parents let you ride the wagon and the monorail by yourself. You’re probably already an adult.”

“Nine,” Zoze replied.

“I’m five,” Shuu told him, “You’re like an adult now. That’s cool. How did you convince them to let you ride the wagon by yourself? I saw you get off the boat. They let you ride the boat by yourself too.”

Would he stop talking to him? He was so invasive and asked so many questions. All he wanted was his mother back. And all of this to be a horrible dream he couldn’t wake from. Though a part of him knew this wasn’t a dream. He wanted to run off the wagon and tell the truth.

But he also didn’t want to be taken to a new family. He didn’t want to be in an orphanage with other kids looking for new families. The agent told him they could try to get his sister and him adopted together, but there was no guarantee that is what the families wanted. He knew what that meant. Either way he’d lose his sister. His home. His mother. His freedom. He didn’t want to lose any of those things. He had nightmares that a new family would take him away, but not his sister.

Or that his sister would be taken and he’d be left all alone. That they’d give them new names. Not the names their mother and father gave them. He didn’t want to replace his mother. He didn’t want to replace his sister. Why couldn’t they have stayed where they were?

An overwhelming amount of emotion hit him like waves clashing on craggy rocks. He began to cry again. It was embarrassing, but he felt so very alone, so very sad, and so very overwhelmed by all of that was happening all at once.

He felt a hand on his back.

Shuu was trying to comfort him for some reason.

“I don’t know why you’re crying, but this is what my mom does when I am upset,” Shuu tells him.

He wished Shuu would leave him alone right now. He wished there was someplace he could hide. Someplace he could be left alone and then Mao would drag him out of his hiding place and take him home with her. He knew that wasn’t going to happen. He was starting to accept it, understand his situation.

He was scared and sad, alone, and accepting at the same time.

He had fallen asleep through most of the tour. Emotionally overwhelmed and tired from the journey he found no reprieve in his dreams. He could hear his sister calling his name. His mother image would fade into darkness. And when he woke up he was ushered quickly through a line to a monorail. There went his last coin. Getting onto the monorail it was quite busier than the wagons filled with people. There was nowhere to sit. Many of the adults held onto a rail to keep their balance. A adult stood up looking at his small frame.

“You can have my seat,” the man with brown hair told him with a smile. He sat down and held on tight as the monorail quickly zoomed through rails. It took many stops. Near as many people left as many got on. It was loud. Bustling. Reminded him a lot of Republic City.

The last stop Ba Sing Se. Busy. Crowds rushing out. Places to be. To go. The only thing different between Republic City and Ba Sing Se was there was something new and old about it. The city remained standing as it was for many years. Only expanded a few times, and had some of the new technology that came from Republic City. Elsewise the buildings remained old, they told a history he probably couldn’t remember or repeat.

He knew how adults made it in the world. They would look for a job. That’s where he would start. Looking for a job. Moving from the station into the winding city of old buildings, mixed with the wirings and the cars of the Republic City. The air smelled different, a mixture of sand from the desert blew in, with hot air that wafted throughout the city. The foods smelled different. The sounds were different, the sound of car horns, through merchant stalls.

His stomach grumbled in complaint, but he would have to be an adult now if he were going to make it in the city. He had to look for a job. Entering a tea shop, the Jade Dragon. Run now by an old woman, it was busy, probably because it was now a tourist attraction, rather than a tea shop. She stared at him. Then looked around, then back at him. Shuffling over.

“Where are your parents?” that question again.

“I am looking for a job,” the old woman with the hunched over back, short white hair, began to laugh.

“You’re a little young,” she told him.

“But I can work, I helped my mother in her antiquities store, I know how to take money, and know how to talk to customers,” he told her.

The old woman just sneered.

“Well I am not your mother, this isn’t just any store some kid can run,” the woman sneered at him and then turned him around to shove him out the door.

Back into the crowds, he would not be deterred because some women thought she was better than everybody else because she acquired a historical relic. He’d continue onward, walking into another store The Jade Figurine.

An store that sold oddities and bobbles, a man behind big round glasses that made his eyes look huge stared at him. His hair oddly shaped like a cloud, black with streaks of gray. He blinked at him.

“A child curious,” the man mumbles, “Child, what do you require?”

He is a little odd, isn’t he? Zoze cleared his throat and stood determined, and defiant.

“I am here to look for work,” Zoze told him.

The man snort laughs for a second. Wiping his hands on his apron and shaking his head. Zoze scowls. Adults here were the same as Republic City. Underestimating the things they could do. He could have run his mother’s shop. He knew how. So did Mao.

“You’re better looking for it somewhere else, but not in Ba Sing Se,” the man tells him, “This city is bustling now. Besides I’d get in trouble if I let a nine year old run around the store working under me. Why are you looking for work anyway? Where are your parents?”

Why do people keep asking that question? Was he as a person, was his existence solely defined by his parents?

“Why does it matter where my parents are?” he retorts, “I want to work. I can work.”

The man shakes his head.

“I see your kind around a lot, runaways, think they know what it takes to make it in the city by themselves. Then they realize being an adult is hard work,” the man tells him, “they run back home crying to their parents. Apologize. I see them back at school, learning, and educating themselves. That’s where a kid your age needs to be. Not in a store.”

Zoze stares at the man angrily.

“I am not a runaway!” he tells the man, “I didn’t run away from home.” Not on purpose that is.

The man raises a skeptical brow, but nods his head yes.

“Very well change my mind,” the man tells him, “And I’ll see what I can do to get you money for at least today.”

Was he strong enough to admit it? To say it. He knew the right word to say. He knew what he should say. He tried to say it, but it came out as stuttering at first. But the man waited patiently, only seeming to see his hesitation and stuttering as some kind of proof that he was wrong.

“...dead.” he finally managed to say, “My...parents….are dead.” Saying it hurt. Saying it reminded him of the pain he felt back at the monorail. The horrible dreams of his mother fading from existence. The sudden realization all he had left of her was the scarf he wrapped his neck, he didn’t want the scent of her rose water perfume to fade ever, he felt tears sting his eyes, he wanted to prove everyone wrong about what they thought of him.But to do so felt like emotionally cutting himself every time, “they are dead.” he whispers one more time.

The man gives him consideration. Staring at him silently first. He bites his lip and sighs.

“I’ll give you fifty copper pieces if you organize my back storage room,” the man tells him, “That at least get you a room for the night.”
Zoze looks at him with excitement.

“What do you need?” Zoze asked stumbling on his words.

“Just sweep it, get it looking good, put the boxes on the shelf, and make it look decent,” the man tells him, “You can do that, right?”

“Yes, yes I can,” Zoze said.

Passing high, tall shelves, disorganized and some areas so cramped of the small store he had to squeeze through just to get into the back storage, he stared at a daunting task. Boxes piled high on top of each other in a disorganized fashion, the man followed him through a much easier root handing him a broom.

“Thank you,” Zoze told him taking the broom.

The man groans at first, “You like steamed buns?”

Zoze stares at him confused.

“I think so,” he replied hesitantly.

“You know how to take yuan from customers?” the man ask him.

“Yes,” he replies.

“Don’t steal it, I’ll know, I’ll be back,” the man tells him. He disappears behind shelves, leaving him alone in the store with more responsibility than he’d ever been given in his whole life. Yet, he was determined to complete the task. Determined to show the man he was wrong about him and that he could make it in the city without anyone, but his own wits. Defined by his own spirit.

His stomach had a lot of things to say today. But there was little work people wanted to give him. At thirteen most would not give him construction work. Mainly because he was not an Earthbender. So he sat with a bucket looking for anyone to want to buy beaded necklaces he started to make to pass the time.

He wondered sometimes if his sister had found somewhere to live or if she were stuck in the orphanage, though he tried to forget that as much as he could. Only keeping his mother’s scarf close by. He found pond stones of green, blue, smoothed stones smoothed by the sands, and used thin strips of leather to bead them together.

Sitting and watching the crowds of people pass him by he waited patiently by making more necklaces while he waited. There was something calming and relaxing about stringing them together.

“Well if it isn’t Master Lahaon’s pet,” a familiar voice from the Earth Bending school called out to him. Pin was a year or two older than him, a big muscular kid, with his lacky Fu right next to him, lean, toned, and straggly both of them came walking towards him.

For some reason he had made enemies out of them. Despite him trying to stay out of trouble or else it jeopardize his reputation within the connections he had. Master Lahaon was the most considerate of the teachers who generally respected the quality of his work. Some students saw that as him being Lahaon’s pet. Reality is that being kind and respectful is what got food in his stomach and a roof over his head.

“Pin, Fu,” he said bowing his head.

“Pin, Fu,” Pin mocks his tone, “What are you selling?”

“Necklaces,” Zoze replies.

“Necklaces,” Pin scoffs, “What are you a girl?”

Zoze continues to string a stone into a piece of leather used to wrap around the neck. He doesn’t say anything because he knows Pin is trying to get a rise out of him. He had seen him enough times at school bullying other kids to know this. He couldn’t do anything to jeopardize his arrangement.

“I asked you a question,” Pin commands.

“I heard,” Zoze replies, “The answer should be obvious without me needing to say it.”

Pin growls. That got under his skin. Good. He couldn’t get into any fights with them, else he’d lose Master Lahaon’s respect, the school’s respect, and his current deal with them. He had to learn to shift the conversation around. Especially after the tussle he had gotten with Pin before a few years back.

“You think you’re smart,” Pin grumbles.

Fu’s just nodding his head, keeping his arms across his chest waiting for the chance to strike. Zoze places a necklace down on the mat. Say nothing. Ignore them. It was hard when he was hungry and they were trying to pick a fight with him.

“Would you like to buy a necklace for your mother?” Zoze ask instead trying to temper fighting back too much.

“Would you like to buy a necklace for your mother?” Pin mocks, “Everything about you irritates me.”

“That sounds like a personal problem,” Zoze responded as he fixes the necklaces to look more presentable. He didn’t expect the swift roundhouse kick to his face. His head ricocheted off the ground. Making his head throb and ring.

“Woops,” Pin says, “I guess my leg just slipped. It sometimes reacts to smart asses.” Zoze dug his nails into the dirt. Clumps of sand began to clump underneath his nail bed. Picking his head up slowly, he felt the sensation of blood trickled down the side of the head that hit the ground. He was dizzy. His head throbbing.

Zoze kept his head up though. Sat with pride. He wouldn’t let a fifteen year old boy bully him or cut him down. He folded his hands in his lap. Irritated by the actions taken by Pin, he just held his hands clamped together, grasping the cloth of his robes. Given to him by a woman who checked on him from time to time.

“Should get that checked out,” he told Pin, “If you don’t mind. I’m busy.”

Pin raised his fist as if he were going to hit him again, but just snarled before turning around. He symbolized to Fu to follow him. Pin walked off and Zoze sighed. Proud he didn’t fight back, but upset that his head hurt.

He just tried to sit and wait patiently.

Half n hour later, head was hurting, he had leaned it on the side of the building he had set up his little mat. He had his eyes closed. He knew what some would say about a thirteen year old trying to make it. What some would say if they heard the full of his story. He just wanted the pain to go away.

“Did you make these yourself?” a woman’s voice alerted him to others presence. He was staring at a woman who didn’t quite belong here. Her dress fabric was expensive looking, she wore big jewelry and big rings on her fingers. Her lips were bright red as she wore a bright green, shiny dress to go with her green shoes.

“Yes,” he replied.

“They are very beautiful, you have an eye. A gift,” she said, “How old are you?”

“Thirteen,” he replied.

“A young entrepreneur,” she exasperates, “Reminds me of when I was young. How about four, for four silvers?”

Four silvers is the most money he had ever earned. He would have been more excited if the side of his head wasn’t caked in blood and hurt. He nodded slowly.

“Okay,” he said.

“Come visit me,” she said, “I am Madam Mo of Madam Mo’s Jewelry. Maybe when you’re older you could come work for me and makes these lovely gems.” She hands him a card and he takes. Madam Mo’s Jewelry. Isn’t that in the more classy section of Ba Sing Se? Why is she here in the lower class section? Still he bowed.

“Thank you,” he said.

With four silvers he could easily get a room and a meal. She grabbed the necklaces that she wanted and handed him the silver. He decided with his head hurting the way it did, with how hungry he was, and how tired he was he would call it for the day. He waited for Madam Mo to disappear from his sight before packing everything up.

Taking a walk down the alleyway, he emerged in the bustling streets. A crowded lower caste, going in and out of stores. So far despite the headache, his spirit was looking up with four silver in his pocket. Weirdly he wanted to go to all the same places. Where he knew the people and had dealt with them before. He stopped. Something caught his eye. Two children sitting at the edge of a building asking for money.

About six and nine. A part of him felt nervous looking at them. A sign read; Need Medicine. Zoze sighed and walked over.

“What’s the medicine for?” Zoze asked.

The kids began to stare at him, the little boy's eyes were drawn to the clotted blood on the side of his head. Before looking away.

“Our mother is sick,” the kid said.

Something about the revelation was familiar. Medicine wasn’t inexpensive. Zoze nodded. Ow. Bad idea. Grabbing three silvers he gave it to the kid.

“Here,” Zoze told him.

“Thank you,” the kid smiled. Zoze sighed. No it wasn’t right. He gave him the last silver in his pocket.

“Take care,”

He knew these trials in Ba Sing Se would strengthen him. He tried not to complain about them or upset him too much. He’d be okay. He knew sometimes other people couldn’t help him, so he’d sleep outside, hungry, and taking shelter under a building if he could.

It wasn’t as scary to him any more as it was back then. He didn’t always need the help of people now that he got older and smarter and knew how to live. He wasn’t so scared about being alone any more as he was back then. So use to his mother or sister bailing him out. Now he just had to deal with it. He had to be determined and strong. He had to hold himself strong.

He decided to take shelter in a small little nook that two buildings close together created. A roll of thunder hinted at rain. And it began to rain. He wrapped himself as tightly as he could in the jacket he wore over his robe and simply closed his eyes. The sound of thunder was soothing in a way. It meant he was alive. The cold on his skin meant he was alive.

Shivering, but managing to fall asleep. There was still the linger of the rose water perfume on the scarf that belonged to his mother. But it had long since faded. Maybe it was a memory of a scent that kept him comfortable.

“Zoze,” he heard a woman call his name.

He didn’t wake at first. There was something comforting about the voice in his sleep. Something that felt like a safe haven.

“Zoze,” someone was shaking him now. He opened his eyes to see a beautiful woman wearing a beautiful blue dress with flowing sleeves, she was holding onto a white parasol, her hair up with an ornate pin. There was a piece that dangled of beautiful jewels and her lips were glossy and pink.

“Mrs. Chisa,” Zoze mumbled groggily.

“I been looking for you,” Chisa told him.

“You have?” he asked.

Chisa was married to Master Lahaon, she was nice and sometimes offered to let him sleep in their spare guest room. It surprised him that she’d be out in the rain looking for him though. He had proved before he could make it on his own without always needing other people.

“I have,” she said pushing back his bangs, she smiled gently, “The storm is supposed to get worse tonight and Lahaon and I were worried about you.” she looks at his head wound. Something told him she knew what had happened, “Let’s get you cleaned up, warm, and get you something to eat. Come on dear.”

She sticks out her hand and he takes it. She gives him a mothering smile and he smiles back.

He feels embarrassed, but he follows her through the streets. The rain coming down harder and harder the longer they walk. Till they enter Master Lahaon house, it’s not terribly expensive, not terribly middle class or lower class. It’s somewhere in between lower rising to middle. The front room is large, there are beautiful green emerald rugs on the bamboo matted floors. A chandelier hangs from the ceiling.

“Lahaon went out looking for you as well,” she told him, “He probably should be home shortly because he couldn’t find you.”

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

“Zoze don’t ever feel embarrassed that you need someone, you’re thirteen, you have done a lot of things on your own and that’s admirable,” she told him, “But I heard what happened between you and Pin. Another student witnessed it. I am so sorry someone would feel the need to bully you, when you are doing the best you can. How about we get into some clothes? And I’ll make dinner.”

“Okay,” he says quietly.

The door slides open and Master Lahaon walks in, with a black tunic, white breeches and black slippers. His black hair is long and tied in a long braided ponytail. Lahaon has this funny pointy beard at the end of his chin.

“It’s good you were found,” Lahaon tells him.

“Sorry,” Zoze replies. Lahaon shakes his head.

“I’m more than happy to give you my home,” Lahaon told him, “I rather you warm and taken care of. Then sleep in flooded streets. Wouldn’t want you sick before the big test tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” Zoze said bowing.

He hoped Lahaon respected the fact he didn’t fight. That he had tempered himself and learned patience. That he didn’t fight Pin back. That he really respected and honored the things Lahaon had taught him.

They were never in a rush. Chisa had put a bandage on his head last night and they were sitting around the table eating a morning breakfast of oat porridge. Today they were to demonstrate the basic stances for an earthbender, all though he wasn’t an earthbender, and he only adopted some of their practices into his already established style. It was the last thing he had of his family.

“Thank you for breakfast and a room,” he said with a bow. Lahaon smiles at him, he seems proud of him. Chisa smiles as well. He doesn’t like this awkward feeling it gives him. Like they could have been his parents at some point.

“Any time,” Chisa told him, “If you want to stay here with us forever.”

“It’s an offer on the table,” Lahaon adds.

He didn’t know. It felt invasive didn’t it. Getting up and helping Chisa clean the dishes despite her fretting he didn’t have to, Lahaon and him left for the dojo shortly after. Ba Sing Se was such a strange place, stormy night skies that carried ominous clouds, turned into brightly lit, sunny morning days. You heard the birds chirping. The heat of the sun would touch your face. You’d enter the crowded monorail, people would come and go to their different jobs. He wasn’t nervous for the test. In fact he was excited. He spent a lot of time studying and practicing. Lahaon always told him his firebender gave the earthbenders practice against other type of benders.

Except that everyone thought he bended weird. His mother was a waterbender, all of his stances and the things he was taught from her were through her eyes. He wondered what his father would have taught him.

He tried to not think of home too often. In fact he tried to forget it. Forge the idea that Ba Sing Se is home now.

“Nervous about the test?” Lahaon asked.

“No,” Zoze replied.

“You’re the most stubborn and determined student I have had,” Lahaon told him.

“I hope I am not that stubborn,” Zoze told him.

Lahaon laughs.

“A good kind of stubborn,” Lahaon tells him, “Offer still stands. Chisa and I have talked it over. I’d feel much safer if you were in our home.”

Zoze felt a pit develop in his stomach. He didn’t know what to think of the offer. It wasn’t a bad offer. He just felt some students might see it as favoritism already. He supposed that’s the reason Pin and Fu didn’t like him much.

“I’ll think about it,” Zoze told Lahaon.

“If you’re worried about the other students, it’s no different that one of the teachers is the father of one of the students,” Lahaon told him.

Zoze shook his head.

“Test first, talk about this later,” Zoze told him.

He felt embarrassed by the question. Uncertain too. He just listened to the monorail screeching. Watching the city blur by the windows. This was his home now. Ba Sing Se. The other city in his memories, in the scent of rose water perfume, was no longer. It was behind him. Maybe he could start over. Maybe he could not sleep on the streets, but in a bed. With Lahaon and Chisa as what? What were they to him? He didn’t love them.

He was grateful for them. But he didn’t see them as parents. Or his mother and father. It was complicated in his mind. The monorail stopped in the middle class section and they walked out with crowds of people. The pit in his stomach beginning to grow deeper and deeper and deeper.

He wished he would have asked and offered after the test. He followed Lahaon to Master Osai’s Dojo. Students were already lining up. Waiting for their respective teachers to dismiss them and line them up in their classes.

He stood in the line for Master Lahaon’s class. Pin and Fu were already there. Pin glared at him. It didn’t take long for the last students to arrive. And the students were told to follow their respect teachers in the different courtyards. Lahaon taught the second years graduating to third years who’d learn more advanced techniques.

“Today’s test shows whether or not you are ready to move onto the next phase of my lessons,” Lahaon paces across the line of students, “You will demonstrate appropriate stances and counter responses. There will be a sparring component involved in this test. The rules are simple, you will not draw blood, nothing at the head or face, and you will not harm your opponent. You will individually as a pair demonstrate good counter strikes, patiences and key skills I have taught you in your third lesson. Before that you will warm up as I pair you together.”

Warm ups included the standard laps around the courtyard. Stretches. Practicing stances without bending. When Lahaon finally called them to order. The only person he hoped he was not paired to spar with would be Pin or Fu. He didn’t know how much he could control himself if Pin tried to pull something.

“Shishi with Zoze,” Lahaon calls out first. That was a relief. Zoze sighs. He could complete this test without the fear of anything getting out of control.

“Master Lahaon,” Pin raises his hand. He feels his heart racing. Lahaon looks over at Pin.

“Yes Pin,” Lahaon calls out.

“Is it possible I could actually do the sparring part of the test with Zoze?” Pin asked.

Lahaon pulls a face. It’s best against either of their choices for him to spar with Pin. Zoze can feel it. He knows something is going to happen if they spar.

“What is your goal?” Lahaon asked.

“To spar,” Pin replied, he looks at Zoze, “I feel bad about yesterday.”

Zoze knew that wasn’t true. He was sure Lahaon knew it too. But the other students were watching them. Calling Pin a liar would cause a scene. Lahaon wanted to say no, Zoze knew this, but he stepped forward. He needed to show temperance, patience. These were the things they were focusing the test on then why not choose the person he knew he’d have trouble holding himself back against.

“It’s okay,” Zoze said, “I’ll do it.”

Lahaon looks at him.

“Are you certain?” Lahaon asked. Zoze bows.

“The test is about patience, then I’m certain,” Zoze told him flashing a look at Pin. Pin sneers at first with an upper lip curl. Lahaon nods his head.

“Clear the arena,” Lahaon said.

All though other students are curious. They are watching in awe, in murmurs and whispers. As they sit at the sidelines about to watch the events unfold. He’s nervous now. Of his own resolve. Of how much patiences he really has. Pin across from him, they have a square strip of the courtyard for their sparring. Pin gets into a typical earthbender stance. Firm and steady, the horse stance can feel the earth underneath it.

While Zoze gets into a more fluid stance. The earthbending stance in a whole would not help him. He’d counter strike with movement. Agile movement.

“The goal is to either have me stop the battle,” Lahaon said, “Get the other person to step outside any of the lines of the Arena. Or concede.”

Zoze nods. Pin scoffs.

“Just call it,” Pin tells Lahaon.

“Begin,” Lahaon says visibly annoyed by Pin’s lack of demonstrating the key components of this test. Patience standing. An Earthbender is not easy to move, they remain sturdy and strong, patient, and observe. They watch carefully. They feel even the slightest of change. Pin’s left foot moves, he’s going in for an attack as a large boulder comes his way.

He doesn’t need to produce a big flame, instead he creates a small sliver of it and throws it. As the boulder comes hailing at him. With cauterized ends it splits into half as the white flame passes through it and fades.

Pin doesn’t say anything, only smirks. He begins a set of horse stances, one boulder another boulder. He produces a flaming octopus, one his mother taught him with water, and throws a sliver of flames at one after another, cutting them in half and shielding himself when the last boulder comes slamming into him. He’s only pushed back a little. Where the boulder has slammed into his flames it’s melted, molten on end. Bubbling, while the other end remains cool and pointed.

“Is that a earth bender technique?” Pin ask Master Lahaon.

“We all know that Zoze came into this with his own training,” Lahaon says, “Focus on the sparring. Not what your opponent is allowed and not allowed.”

Pin just scoffs. He raises his hands up towards the sky. And Zoze knows pillars are going to rise from the ground. As they begin to form their heads, he jumps on one end and let’s another rise for him to jump on the other to cross the wide gap between him and Pin. Who currently has the advantage of range throwing boulders from afar. Landing closer to Pin now. Pin scowls.

“Master Lahaon,” calls a voice from the other side of the courtyard, “Sorry to interrupt, but I need something from your real quick.”
Lahaon sighs and nods. He points to the two of them.

“We will continue the test after I get back, sit tight,” Lahaon told them. Lahaon walks over to the teacher who called him over. Was this another test about their patience, he wondered? Or did the teacher really need Lahaon for something?

Still Zoze would respect Lahaon’s orders and stood awaiting. Should he reset then? Pin’s hands were closed, tighter in a fist. Zoze was uncertain what he was planning. He saw as rocks began to clump onto Pin’s body and he began to charge in earthen armor. He swung a rocky punch towards Zoze. He didn’t have much time to block it. Producing a quick little shield, it only melted the knuckles a little bit and he was pushed back.

“We have to wait for Master Lahaon,” Zoze told Pin.

He knew that it would be a futile attempt. He either had the choice of waiting for Master Lahaon after he got beaten up or had to fight back. He didn’t want to break the reputation and the respect he had with Lahaon, but right now it didn’t matter. Fine come after him. Zoze got out of the way as Pin slammed into one of his own pillars and Zoze got into his stance.

Pin threw one of his rock fist off at him, he produced a hot, but small shield to melt it as Pin came charging like angry moose lion. Heavy footsteps coming at him. Zoze dodged the swinging fist. He couldn’t sweep Pin on the ground because his legs were protected by his rock armor, instead he ducked low, one knee, the other leg extended out.

Sweeping with the extended out leg to produce a wall of fire instead the created a shield between him and pin. As he recovered from his sweep he moved backwards in order to cover some distance. The flame wall fading as Pin came charging towards him.

Pin was unseasoned, unskilled. He didn’t take the training seriously enough. Leaving himself wide and open with his heavy swings, Zoze felt heat through his hands and he pushed a wall of flames at Pin. It pushed him back and melted the front bit of his arm. Melting. Scorching hot. Bubbling and melting off of Pin.

Pin panicked trying to get his rock armor off as quickly as he could as his front part of his rock chest piece continued to melt and bubble.

“Are you trying to burn me!” Pin shouted.

“No,” Zoze replied.

Just trying to get you out of the armor. Enraged Pin shouted and another spiky pillar came out from one of the rock pillars Zoze was standing next to. He reacted quick enough, but not enough that the pillar didn’t scrape across his leg a little. Blood began to draw from his shin.

Pin threw boulder his way. Zoze tried quickly to recover, cutting them in half with his white flames, while Pin’s fist came through one of the boulders. The fist came to his face, he was knocked back. The back of his head slammed in the back of the earth. Like yesterday. His head ringing again. Damn it.

He felt a well of rage bubbling from him. No, that isn’t how you temper your flames. You cannot let the flames be fueled by your rage. You need to stay focused and calm Zoze. A boulder hits him in the abdomen as he gets up. The wind knocked out of him as he stumbles up.

Pin is coming in for a second round to punch him again. Zoze sticks his hand up to catch Pin’s fist. He was tired of him using his fist to bully other kids. He was tired of Pin hurting other people. He could feel himself trying to fight his own rage. His head hurt again. What did he ever do to him? What did he ever do to get Pin’s ire?

“What are you going to do Zoze?” Pin asked, “If you hurt me everyone will look at you differently.”

“Why?” Zoze asked.

“Why what?” Pin replied quickly.

“Why do you want to hurt others?” Zoze asked.

“Because they piss me off,” Pin tries to shake his fist out of his grip.

“You’re seriously pissing me off,” Zoze told him, “Should I then hurt you because I am seriously pissed? I am boiling with rage and tempering myself for you. But I wonder if I should take your fist from you. That’s what is going on in my head right now. Because you don’t have an excuse to hurt people. You don’t know them. You don’t care to know them unless they are afraid of you.”

“Just let go,” Pin says trying to jerk his fist away.

“Why should I?” Zoze ask.

“Let go man, I’m warning you,”

Warning him. He could melt his flesh. He could boil him. He wanted to. He wanted to. But Master Lahaon would be disappointed in him if he did. He didn’t want to disappoint the people who put faith in him. Who helped him. He owed them their respect back. He let go of Pin’s fist. He wanted to hurt him. He had the chance to do so. But he didn’t. Pin punched him in the gut, he coughed as the wind was knocked out of him again, his abdomen already sore from the boulder.

He toppled over onto the ground. Pin kicked him this time while he was on the ground.

“You’re just a big baby, big words, but you won’t fight back,” Pin yells at him while he kicks him. Zoze reaches his arm up and grabs Pin’s legs. Pin fights, tries to kick him with the leg. Forgive him Master Lahaon. As he produces heat from his hand scalding Pin’s leg.

Pin screams out in pain and falls to the floor on his ass. His skin is crackling, boiling, and bubbling. Zoze gets up. Zoze coughs over Pin’s dramatic screams.

He feels ashamed. He doesn’t feel triumphed. He wanted to avoid hurting Pin. He wanted to not have to do that. But he also didn’t want Pin to wail on him or other people. At least this he’d think twice about what he has done to others. He hopes. He looks away from everybody. He hates himself right now for choosing that route. That option he was no better than Pin or Fu. He was no better than the bullies. He could feel Lahaon’s scorn even though he wasn’t here.

Yet, one of the kids Shishi with curly hair, mousy looking kid walked over to him.

“Are you okay?” Shishi asked him.

“I am sorry,” Zoze whispered to Shishi.

Shishi looks at Pin, but then back at Zoze.

“We all saw it, you were just defending yourself,” Shishi told him.

“It doesn’t feel like defense when I wanted to do it, and he just gave me an excuse to do it,” Zoze told Shishi, “Thank you for trying to cheer me up. I’m going to leave the school after Master Lahaon gets back.”

He looked at the ground. Everything he worked for. Everything he tried to achieve and accomplish felt like it was sinking in a dark hole. Fading and he was falling downward. He was just starting to feel like this was a home. Now Chisa and Lahaon wouldn’t want him in their house. Now he felt like he had to exile himself from others because he chose the option he didn’t have to chose. Shouldn’t have chosen. He felt dizzy. His head throbbing.

When he woke up it was in the school's infirmary. His head felt funny as bandages were wrapped around his head. Lahaon was entering the infirmary with a scowl on his face. He felt that pit in his stomach forming.

“What exactly happened?” Lahaon asked him.

He looked away from Lahaon too ashamed to admit it.

“I am sorry,” Zoze replied, “I know I did a terrible thing.”

Lahaon looks confused for a second.

“From start to finish,” Lahaon told him.

He remained silent. Lahaon continued to stare at him. He guessed in a way like a father would stare at their child.

“It doesn’t matter,” Zoze told Lahaon, “I’m leaving the school.”

“Whether or not you stay in this school depends on what you have to say,” Lahaon urged him. It didn’t matter though. What he did to Pin, wasn’t that on grounds enough to make him leave the school?

“When you left a fight broke out,” Zoze replied, “Pin and I fought. He beat me to the ground and to get him off I burnt his ankle.”

“Who started the fight? You or Pin?” Lahaon asked.

That question was too obvious. Zoze was guessing Pin told Lahaon and the teachers he was the one who started the fight. Should he agree with Pin’s story then? It make more sense then a beloved merchant’s son starting fights at school and picking on students. Wouldn’t it be better if he just told them he started the fight?

“I-” but Lahaon put a hand up.

“When I was your age we had this kid in class name Oshu,” Lahaon told him, “Oshu and his parents were rather important people. But he use to bully the kids around him. One day me and him get into a tussle out of school. He trips me off my feet and I fly into a cart of fruit. The girl I like was watching. I was so angry. Oshu had done a lot of things to me up to then. Poured fishy water on me. Threw me into garbage cans. So I tried to fight back. Long story short, he gains the upperhand and I react instinctually. I tripped him and he fell backwards enough to twist his ankle and broke his leg. I felt so ashamed of myself. That I thought that girl would never like me knowing how violent I am. Not only did she marry me, but no one looked down on me. I can tell you this. Fifteen students came to your aid to tell us their side of the story. Only two students are saying something different.”

“Won’t he get in trouble?” Zoze asked.

“That’s his fault, not yours. You do not need to take responsibility for that,” Lahaon told him.

Zoze looked away from Lahaon.

“Pin…..attacked me...when you left,”

Lahaon nods.

“Thank you, I’m glad you told the truth and no one is going to look down at you for what you did. At least I won’t,”

Zoze felt tears running down his face. Why was Master Lahaon so nice to him? Why did he defend him? When he did something so obviously shameful?

“I did something terrible,” Zoze told him.

“Admitting that it was terrible means you’re ashamed of it, putting or fixing the blame to someone else, admits that you do not regret your actions,” Lahaon told him.

Zoze nods. He understood. He’d be more careful. He had a lot of things to learn. A lot of things he still needed to learn. He supposed Lahaon was right about not throwing away an opportunity because he felt ashamed for an action. To take responsibility for it.

“I’m...not ready,” Zoze told Lahaon, “To...live with you. I’d like to stay. Until I find somewhere else. But...I don’t know when I’ll be ready for someone to take care of me.”

Lahaon frowns, but nods.
“That’s an acceptable compromise,” Lahaon told him, “Who knows if you stay you may someday feel ready. I’d like to know about your situation some day. If you trust me enough.”

“If I told you, I am afraid you’d hate me,” Zoze told him.

“Life is a series of complicated decisions, I am old enough to have heard a lot of these complicated decisions,” he smiles, “Get some rest. I’ll call off the test. And get you to my home.”

Lahaon and Chisa were not too happy that he wanted to leave. He didn’t know entirely why he wanted to leave. He felt safe and comfortable in their presence. But he also didn’t feel like he was at home in their place. It always felt temporary.

It always felt like he didn’t fully belong there. Yesterday a Help Wanted sign wandered toward his feet. He was to be meeting a Jinrei at a tea shop. Not one of those fancy tea shops, instead it was one on the outskirts of town, dilapidated, they used an old piece of cloth for the roof and made tea the traditional way. He sat waiting for someone to show. When finally a man he didn’t entirely expect sat down next to him.

He looked like a working man. He had callouses on his hands. Years of hard work and toil could be seen on his body. Yet he was fit, and looked rather healthy for an older man with graying hair and liver spots. He had a hook nose and he smiled.

“Didn’t think anyone would come,” he said.

“I been looking for work,” Zoze told him.

“How old are you?” the old man asked.

“Fifteen,” he replied.

The man whoops in laughter.

“To be that young again,” the old man tolds him, “What makes you need work?” He’s asking because Lahaon and Chisa have been providing him clothes, so it looks like he can make his way in life.

“I don’t have parents,” he tells him, “Just some nice people helping me out right now. But I don’t feel like it’s my place. I want to find my place. But I need work to find it.”

The old man whoops again.

“You’re a very strange young man,” the old man tells him, “Reminds me of my own children. Determined. Certain of what they are looking for. What is your name?”

“Zoze,” he replies, “And yours? Sir.”

“Sir,” the old man chuckles, “It’s Jinrei.”

“It’s nice to meet you Mr. Jinrei,” he says bowing with his head. Jinrei just laughs and shakes his head.

“No need for the mister,” Jinrei tells him, “Must be hard to not have parents and struggle to find where you belong. All my kids left me to go do bigger things in Republic City.”

He felt his heart sink. Republic City. Felt even more like a distant memories these days. He had learn to push all of it back. He had learn to make here home and there just somewhere far away from here.

“Is that why you need help?” Zoze asked.

Jinrei nods.

“I have a farm a little out of the ways of the city,” Jinrei replies, “It needs fixing. But I am old and my back aches, my bones ache. I have worked my body to near exhaustion. But that farm is the first thing I ever owned. It’s where I had all three of my children. It’s where my wife died. And it most likely will be where I die. But I want it to look nice before I have to go. I want to honor and respect the building as its honored and respected me over the years.”

He nods. Listening. He still wears his mother’s scarf around his neck. He plays with one of the squares. Jinrei sounded so sad and tired when he spoke. Zoze felt a part of him reaching out to Jinrei.

“That sounds like a good wish,” Zoze told him slowly.

Jinrei smiles.

“I should have been more clear, this isn’t a paying job,” Jinrei told him, “All I can pay is room and board. But the better we rebuild the farm. The better the farm will be to use. We’ll sell eggs from the rooster pigs. And milk. A farm provides it’s own payment, it just requires a lot more hard work than most people are willing to put in. And sometimes that hard work is foiled by a bout of bad weather. Farming isn’t a job for people who want something quick and easy that pays off consistently.”

“I understand,” Zoze replies, “Something. I am looking for something. Somewhere I feel I can feel settled. I don’t mind hard work. I have always worked hard.”

Jinrei nods.

“You have the look of a hard worker,” Jinrei tells him, “But you’re also fifteen. Young. And a lot of young kids like you don’t know where they belong until much later in their life. You might decide you don’t like the farm. Might not feel settled there. I don’t want to take your young life away from you and mislead you.”

Zoze frowns. He came here didn’t he? He wanted to at least try. If people were not defining by him having parents or not they defined him by his age. Let his work speak for itself. Not be defined or decided by someone who doesn’t know him yet.

“I can do it,” Zoze tells him.

“I wasn’t questioning that-

“-I don’t want to be defined by my youth, but my work and my decisions,” Zoze cuts him off.

“You’re right, that’s like when people tell me I should sell the farm because I am old,” Jinrei tells him, “All right. I suppose you’re the only one who responded to the letter in the first place. Been out here for days with no one else willing to meet with me.”

Zoze nods.

“I won’t waste this opportunity,” Zoze told him.

It was very apparent the small farm needed rebuilding. The house was no more than a small one story home that almost looked like a small shack, it’s roof had holes in it, and the barn was missing planks. Cow pigs squealed at him, a rooster pig squawked, a hippo cow lazily looked at him eating hay. A ostrich horse sat out on its lonesome in a stable also missing planks on the side of a wall and the roof was mostly missing.
Jinrei was waiting on the front porch of his home, rocking in a chair. Zoze looked at Jinrei.

“Why is there so much wood missing?” Zoze asked almost immediately.

“The kids like to take a hammer and pry the wood off of the barns and use it for firewood for their wild parties in the caves,” Jinrei replies, “Been a losing battle for years.”

“That seems odd,” Zoze told him.

Jinrei does one of his whooping laughs.

“Supposed it is, but kids will be kids when they feel oppressed by something,” Jinrei told him, “Use to grow mangos. Kids took them too. And the mango trees ended up dying. Use to grow tea too, but the kids took that as well.”

Jinrei smiles, but he doesn’t know why Jinrei is smiling when people are taking his livelihood. He wondered how long Jinrei had lived out here alone. He didn’t pack much. He didn’t see it as impressive to say he wanted to put the city behind and then take the city with him. Besides it was just stuff he could acquire again at some point in time.

“Come I’ll take you a tour and tell you what needs to be fixed,” Jinrei told him, “If it isn’t obvious.”

Jinrei has him follow him into the tiny shack house, the front room is a cooking pit in the center of the room, with a kettle over a cool pit. There’s enough space to sit around and eat on wooden floors. A small hallway leads into a little kitchen nook. Another hallway leads to two rooms. Jinrei points to an empty, dusty room.

“That’s your room, it might need to be cleaned out,” Jinrei points across, “That’s mine.”

The one he must have shared with his wife. And this must have been Jinrei’s kids room when they were around. Now empty with simply a roll up futon. He puts his small bag on the dusty floor anyway and continues to follow Jinrei. Next to the house is the stables, where a lone ostrich horse stood. Eating some hay it looked at both of them with little enthusiasm.

“Use to have a mate,” Jinrei said.

“Let me guess some kids stole it’s mate,” Zoze added.

“Yep,” Jinrei nods, “The stables roof needs fixing. And we need to board up the stable walls again.” The walk to the barn isn’t too far “This is the barn. The pig rooster, and pig chicken coops in that little gate. We have one hippo cow. We have three cow pigs. Li, Lu, Ko, and Ra.”

He points to three pigs that oink at him. He just nods his head. Jinrei points to an empty patch of what must have been used for farming.

“Use to be where the mango and tea trees were, but,” Jinrei shrugs, “We’ll need to head to the city and buy as much as wood as we can. Problem is I don’t have a lot of money. The farm been going under since….well.” Jinrei raises his hands up and circles all around wasted land.

“I can help,” Zoze says.

“How much does a fifteen year old make these days?” Jinrei jokes.

“A lady tried to steal my necklaces and she owed me a hefty sum, I saved most of it, I have no problem dumping it into this farm. Didn’t you say if you’re good to the farm, the farm will be good to you. Let’s set up some mango and tea trees again. We might not be able to compete with bigger farms, but this is your livelihood, right,”

Jinrei smiles.

“I guess all I needed was a motivated individual wanting to start all over again,” Jinrei told him, “Forgot what passion was in my old age. All right if you want to. Let’s do so.”

Two weeks and several wood splinters later the farm was starting to look up. The stable had a roof, the barn had a roof, even the house had a roof, and the barn had a wall. He wiped the sweat of his brow while finishing the wall. When they got everything planted this place would start to really look up in a year or so. Still he was concerned that rebuilding would only encourage the thieves. Jinrei was pulling some weeds from the ground. Trying to encourage the soil to revilitize.

“Thank you for all your hard work Zoze,” Jinrei tells him as he takes a break from hammering in a nail.

“I like it,” Zoze tells Jinrei.

Jinrei smiles and wipes some of his own sweat off.

“Wait till the thieves start coming, it always happens, the same cycle, I rebuild, they come in plunder,” Jinrei tells him, “Then I have to rebuild.”

“Not this time it won’t happen,” Zoze told Jinrei.

“What are you planning to do?” Jinrei asked sounding concerned.

“Some surveillance at night,”

And if he could a way to put an end to the nighttime thievery for the wild cave parties. They sunk a lot of time and a lot of money into rebuilding he wasn’t going to let Jinrei’s wish to honor the home that had been good to him go to waste because of some nighttime vandals. It was time to devise a counter strike. This place was really starting to become something.

Weeds pulled. Roofs built. Walls made. That wasn’t going to get wasted because someone else decided to make a wrong turn in life.

“Just be careful,” Jinrei tells him.

“I will be,” he tells Jinrei.

Jinrei nods.

He was sitting outside of the barn, beading a necklace in the dark. He liked it here so far. It was quiet. Something about it felt relaxing and it felt like he could forgot a worry or two. He was waiting for these group of individuals who partied in the caves taking wood from an old farmer. It was very unbecoming of people his age or older. What possessed people the thought to do something like that? He didn’t get it or understand it. Honestly it genuinely pissed him off, but he tried not to let rage fuel his will. Sitting and stringing the stones he smelted down together on a piece of leather strap. He heard footsteps and giggling.

“Shoosh,” said a girls’ voice.

“The old man sleeps like the dead,” said another girl’s voice.

“Come on guys,” said a young man’s voice he recognized the voice.

“How nice he rebuilt it for us,” said another young man, “We’ll just take some and go.”

Did they have no remorse? Did they lack it? Did they feel ashamed or regret their actions? He wondered these questions sometimes. He remembers two years ago what he did to Pin. And as much as it was in self defense now that he had time to reflect. He still felt ashamed those were the actions he took. Getting up as he heard one of them getting close to the barn, he lit the lantern that he sat beside him.

“Good evening,” Zoze said, “Can I help you?”

As the light hit the group of young people his age, he knew why he recognized one of their voices. Fu was staring at him with a cheeky, but also a somewhat surprised smile. Two girls from the school were with Fu and another bigger kid he knew was older than any of them.

“What are you doing here?” Fu asked.

“Working,” Zoze replied.

“You protect old geezer’s farms,” the older kid laughed and mocked him. Just like Fu to chose the big and stupid ones as his bodyguard.

“I protect the farm I am working at, yes,” Zoze retorted.

“Why does it matter? His farm isn’t making any money anyway, so what if we take a few things?” the older kid asked.

“Hmm,” Zoze replied, “The funny thing is I know where most of you all live. With that logic I should be able to stroll into your house and take whatever I want.”

“No,” Fu snarled.

“Yeah man, this is like outside, it’s not inside someone’s property,” the older kid told him.

“It’s outside of someone’s property, good try though,” Zoze replied, “I suggest you four leave.”

“Or you’ll what?” Fu egged him o.

“I think the last time I recall I burned Pin’s ankle, left a nasty scar didn’t it, and hurt a lot, didn’t it? So I suggest you leave, before you get a nice handprint of your own,” Zoze told Fu, “Remember the last time I told Pin I really did want to hurt him, but tried to temper myself. It’s him who egged me on that resulted in the scar he has now, isn’t it?”

Fu swallowed his spit hard. Zoze’s own heart was racing. He had never threatened someone before like that. He had never told someone that he wanted to hurt them after the incident with Pin. He had never stood up to four kids like this before and threatened to walk into their homes and take their stuff. Or burn them. It felt, exhilarating and liberating.

“Let’s just go,” Fu told the group.

“Yeah,” the girls said together.

“Not worth dealing with someone who is crazy,” said the older kid.

He watched them walk off. Just like that. They walked off. It didn’t matter if he were really going to do it or not, they simply left with the threat of the action. His heart was going. Racing. Throbbing. Pumping. Adrenaline rushing.

His body shaking. He had never done anything like that before. He always kept himself in check in order for others to not lose their respect for him. But it felt good to release what he wanted to say. It felt good to stand up to others who wanted to hurt others or take from others. He didn’t understand it. This throbbing well of darkness that bubbled in the core of people’s hearts.

It’s probably the second time someone has died in his life. But it was the first time he ever buried someone. Jinrei was buried right underneath the first mango tree they ever planted. The farm felt different now that Jinrei had passed. More silent. More still. Not even the farm animals seemed to want to make a peep.

He sat out beading necklaces at night because it was something he enjoyed doing. It was peaceful and gave him peace of mind. It hadn’t been what more than a few weeks since Jinrei passed. He felt sad. Numb in the heart a little. It be the same feeling he might have felt if he heard any news from Lahaon or Chisa.

A bucket collapses just outside of the stables. Another person trying to yet again, disrupt a man’s way of living because they thought they could just take what they wanted.

“I know you’re there,” Zoze told whomever the vandal was in the night. Instead a eleven year old kid comes out into the light of the lanterns. Torn clothes. Worn shoes. Hair matted in mud and probably sweat. He was missing a tooth and looked scrawny.

“I meant no harm,” the kid tells him, “The bucket was in the way.”

The kid kicks his toes into the dirt and Zoze watches him. A pit in his stomach is developing, but he pushes past it and sighs.

“Are you hungry?” Zoze ask.

“Oh yes, I sure am,” the kid tells him, “I’m Fahn.”

“Zoze,” he tells the kid, “Come on. We’ll get you bathed and fed. You can stay here in the night. I’ll give you some money so you aren’t skulking around other people’s property.”

Fahn nods and follows him into the house. He’s not ready to move things out of Jinrei’s room. It feels odd and disrespectful. So he left it alone. Leaving rice balls or other sorts of food at Jinrei’s door without the expectation that he’ll rise from the grave.

“You’re not going to ask where my parents are?” Fahn ask him.

“No,” Zoze replied as he begins to stoke the fire pit a little bit.

“You talk like an adult, but you don’t ask all the adult questions,” Fahn said, “I like you.”

“I have rice and cabbage, I hope that’s good for you,” Zoze told Fahn, “Haven’t gotten to the market yet.”

“Better than nothing, am I right,” Fahn replied, “Say that’s a really expensive looking scarf. Where did you get it?”

“It’s my mother’s,” Zoze replies in a way that almost sounds like, put your hands on it and lose a finger.

Fahn frowns.

“You really loved your parents then?” Fahn asked.

Zoze says nothing.

“Is that who live here with you?” Fahn asked.

“For someone who is surprised no one is asking you questions, you seem to be asking a lot of them,” Zoze replied, sitting and continuing his beading, “So. A question for a question. Where are your parents?”

“Pfft, like I know,” Fahn says blowing his hair out of his bangs, “My turn. Who else lives here?”

“Myself,” Zoze replies.

“Aww shucks, I heard an old man use to live here and you don’t seem like an old person to me,” Fahn tells him.

Fahn’s watching him bead necklaces. Zoze says nothing at first. He’s watching Fahn. If others hadn’t given him the chance they did he wouldn’t be here. He needed to take the things others taught him and apply it. Fahn fidgets staring at him because he went quiet.

“So you ran away,” Zoze fills in the blanks.

“Well wouldn’t you?” Fahn asked him.

Zoze looks to Fahn. That’s a hard question to answer.

“No,” Zoze replied.

“So let me get this straight,” Fahn delegates and cracks his knuckles, “Your parents don’t live here. You help random orphans who stumble over a bucket outside of your stable. But you’re not a runaway.”

“No,” Zoze replies, “So, you ran away?”

“Well yes,” Fahn replies, “My dad’s always been super strict on rules. He’s always yelling and getting upset about something. So I ran away because I want to do what I want to do. Why are you out here alone then?”

Zoze looked at Fahn.

“My parents are dead,” Zoze told him dryly.

Fahn cracks his knuckles and stares at Zoze. Sure you could say that he ran away from the orphanage or to be taken away. But he was nine then and didn’t know how to handle death or grief. He also didn’t know the boat was going to move. He just had to make the best out of the situation back then. Fahn scowls.

“You’re kidding right?” Fahn ask him.

“No,” Zoze replies, “I don’t kid.”

Fahn huffs.

“I lied you’re so uncool like an adult,” Fahn tells him.

“This uncool adult is the one giving you something to eat, if you don’t want it I can go ahead and not make it and you can continue tripping over buckets,” Zoze told him.

Fahn puffs out his cheeks and glares.

“Fine,” Fahn replies pouting.

He didn’t quite understand why Fahn was so upset. Except that Zoze knew that rules were good. Structure was good. Even though he lived on the streets he took every opportunity given to him with responsibility and gratitude.

“When people give an opportunity, you should respect it, and take it with gratitude,” Zoze told Fahn.

“I don’t need a lecture from you,” Fahn tells him, “Already got it from the parents I left. I want to do my own thing. I have been. I don’t need your help to do it. But I’ll take it.”

Zoze just sighs as he reheats some of the leftover rice from earlier tonight. Fahn is not really paying attention. He keeps eyeing the farm. The door, the cooking pit, the pan, the beaded necklaces, his scarf. Zoze gives Fahn a warning look.

Why did it seem like people, even those in need only seemed in their best interest? Why did it seem like a well of darkness was bubbling in the souls of many?

So they said nothing. He let Fahn eat, while he strung beads together. He let Fahn take a bath as well, and handed him some clothes. Then he waited. And listened. It didn’t take long into the night for Fahn to think he had gone to rest. The scraping of the ladder in the dirt. The sound of the ladder hitting against the bigger tree. Zoze sighed. Getting up from the front room.

Walking out of the farm, Fahn was holding a bag of farming tools, some of his beads strung along the strap of the bag and he was reaching for mangoes.

“They won’t get you much,” Zoze told him, “They aren’t ripe yet or ready for harvest. You won’t make money. And they’ll taste bitter.”

Fahn nearly loses his balance on the ladder. He turns to Zoze.

“You were supposed to be asleep!” he shouts.

“I been defending this farm from thieves and runts for a while now, I’m not that blind,” Zoze tells Fahn, “Give the stuff back.”

“Right do the right thing,” Fahn scoffs, “Don’t tell me you never had to steal to make it. You’re such a hypocrite. Got your little farm now. Think you’re too big for people like us. That you use to be.”

Zoze scowls and crosses his arms across his chest.

“I never resorted to stealing, in fact when I came to Ba Sing Se, I was nine and I looked for work,” Zoze told him, “I worked for every coin I earned. If I did not work for someone I sold goods. I still sell goods. And I am still not affluent.”

“Well that’s good for you, I am tired of every adult telling me what to do,” Fahn scoffs at him, “I am getting away with this and you’re going to run back into your little farm and have never seen me. Okay.”

Zoze raises a brow. Fahn jumps off the ladder and lands on a small rocky platform he created himself. Ah an earthbender.

“Don’t you get it, I’ll hurt you if-

Fahn stops as he sees a small white flame from Zoze’s hand. It illuminates his face and flickers in his eyes. He doesn’t say anything just holds the flame and stares at Fahn. They stare at each other without saying a word at first. Fahn finally dumps all the contents of the bag in front of Zoze.

“I never want to see you here again,” Zoze told Fahn.

“Like I’d ever come back,” Fahn says and quickly holds the empty bag to his chest before running off.

Not every orphan was like Fahn. But it was a good reminder not every orphan was like him. He sighed bending down to organize the stuff Fahn tried to pawn off. At least he didn’t try to take his scarf. He played with the checkered print, but only smiled.

Despite the new trials of being here, alone. He wondered if Jinrei would be proud. He wondered if Lahaon and Chisa were proud. He wondered if his mother watching was proud despite the shameful turn this journey first took. He wondered if Mao was safe. Living a good life.

Things were on the cusp of looking better these days. Despite the trials that came and went, a year later and things seemed to be easing into a new normal. Two of the cow pigs had a new cow pig to add to the family. Whom he called Bimbi. A year ago she was so small, now she was so much bigger and curious. A bit like a dog, she took it upon herself to sleep in the house with him on a soft pillow he bought her. Or really traded for.

He saw a group of people walking towards his farm. A woman in a pencil skirt you’d see in Republic City with shoes with heels, in the desert. Her hair was in a bob cut, and there were people holding cameras for those moving pictures they use to have in Republic City. He had been out here for so long he nearly forgot about those.

“There he is,” the woman said, she smiles at the camera, “I am Wong. Here live at a farm on the outskirts of Ba Sing Se. Home to Bimbi the Cow Pig.”

What about his cow pig now?

“Excuse me?” Zoze asked.

Wong walks up to him and smiles.

“Congratulations sir, Bimbi has won the Blue Ribbon standard for the best cow pig spots in Ba Sing Se,” she says.

“Uh?”

“Do you have a few words, Mister?”

“Zoze,”

“Mister Zoze,”

“I didn’t register for anything,”

“Well someone must have registered Bimbi,” she snaps her fingers and one of the men comes up with a blue ribbon and a trophy, “She’s won first prize. How does that make you feel?”

“Because of her spots?”

“That’s right,” Wong smiles.

“I guess, happy, what does it get me?”

“Fame and recognition,” she says, “Plus a lifetime supply of cow pig feed.”

“I see,”

“So, where is she?” Wong asked looking around.

“Bimbi?” Zoze ask.

“Yes of course,” Wong smiles.

“In the house,” Zoze said.

“She sleeps inside,”

“Yes, a bad thunderstorm flooded the barn a year back and she doesn’t like sleeping in the barn, especially when it starts raining,”

“A tragic story for such a special pig,”

It took several minutes as they interviewed Bimbi. He didn’t quite understand why they wanted to interview Bimbi, she didn’t particularly care for visitors. And totally snubbed her nose at Wong’s treats for her. When they left Zoze stared at Bimbi. She oinked.

“I agree,” he told her.

He had never registered Bimbi for the spot competition or whatever it was. He didn’t think Bimbi much cared as long as she had her blanket and her pillow. He didn’t even think she knew why people were shoving a weird stick in her face. All she did was oink and then hide underneath the blanket. He had about the same mental reaction seeing a crowd of people walking towards his barn.

And more came. To take photos of Bimbi. To ask him questions. Like what do you feed your pigs to get such spots? Or how did you breed your pig to get such coloring in her coat? He didn’t know. He wasn’t a breeder. And he wasn’t going to start breeding pigs any time soon. He just awkwardly grinned and said vegetables awkwardly to answer the farmers.

They all associated different answers as the different ways for Bimbi to be the way she did. All he did was give her love and care just like everybody else on the farm. From the Hippo cow, its new baby. The ostrich horse and its new mate. To the other cow pigs, sheep pigs, and rooster pigs and the chickens. All it was love and understanding their needs.

He had never had so many people try and take his picture before. Or be so interested in his little farm. People asking him when his mangoes were in season or his tea leaves. He didn’t understand it all and was just glad for them to leave.

No one had cared about this farm when Jinrei’s wife died and he was left alone to tend to it. They didn’t care enough to protect the barn from the thieves. Or to help Jinrei when he needed it. And they didn’t care when Jinrei died and when he took it over.
They only cared now that Bimbi needed pictures. And was considered special by a bunch of random strange judges who saw a picture of her and determined she was special.

When they were all gone he stared at Bimbi across the room.

“Just don’t let the fame get to your head,” he told Bimbi.

All she did was oink at him. He shrugged. The day went without much. He beaded a few necklaces planning to go to the market tomorrow, but then he wondered if that were such a good idea after all Bimbi was an award winning pig now. He didn’t know how to feel about that. How to accept it. He just set her ribbon and her trophy in the corner next to where she slept.

It was after all her achievement. He may have done nothing to make her beautiful determined by others, but she did. With her nature. He could respect that. He made necklaces, weaved his baskets, and sighed dreading going to the market tomorrow.

Day turned to evening. Events tranquil and peaceful. Heading in for the night. He slept with peaceful dreams these days. The sound of the swaying tree canopy reminded him of the waves. When they stood on the port and their mother would teach them how to mirror the waves. Of course Mao could control the waves. He on the other hand had a few tricks of his own.

His sister use to tell him that evaporating her water and controlling the steam was cheating. But he had learned a long time ago to use his enemy's’ power as fuel against them. And learned patience through the earthbenders. He would have continued to sleep peacefully if not being awoken from a crash and terrified squealing.

He got up immediately dashing out of his room to see an assailant trying to drag Bimbi out of his house. You had to be kidding he had to now deal with this. Immediately throwing a small flame at the rope it burned away quickly and Bimbi was free to run.

The masked assailant masked in black tried to grab her, only tripping forward instead landing on their face. Was this now a thing he was going to have to deal with? People trying to steal his pig? If it wasn’t them trying to steal from his barn, or the animals, or his harvest, they were now going to try and steal Bimbi because she was a prize winning pig.

“Leave,” Zoze told the assailant.

The individual in question got up and quickly ran off. Zoze sighed fixing his hair. Sticking out his hand for Bimbi to come to him, she did so. Seeking comfort. He pet her coarse hair.

“Sorry,” Zoze told her, “Some people get jealous.”

She fell into his arms the way a dog might and began to happily cuddle in his arms. Of all the things he could have earned infamy for, it had to be a pig.

The market was very busy. Old merchants who had been selling goods the same way since their great grandfather had done it. To busy stores in Ba Sing Se. Crowds going in and out and every now and then they would stop by. And say “aren’t you the guy with the pig” “isn’t your cow pig the prize winning blue ribbon pig” “didn’t you win the cow pig contest”

It was taxing. He couldn’t get a single person to focus on him. They all wanted to talk about Bimbi. Ever since then he had to fend off and protect people trying to take her from his watchful eye. Why was this something to happen?

Selling all of his necklaces and baskets since everyone wanted to see Bimbi, when they were done, they bought some wood to fix the barn wall missing a plank of wood again. It rarely happened, but sometimes he’d find something missing. It was a losing battle. He felt bad because that’s how Jinrei must have felt at some point in time.

He was still young though. Still willing to fight the losing battle. Because he made a promise and had to keep to that promise.

They made it home without much of an interruption. Few people stopped. Held pictures up. Some even asked for pictures with Bimbi. It slowed them down, but they did eventually get home in the late evening. He was too tired to make dinner. So he checked on the farm to make sure no one else had taken anything while he was gone.

Everything seemed intact. This was starting to feel comfortable. Like this would be the rest of his life till someday he was Jinrei’s age looking for another young person willing to take over an old farm that others would have let rot. Be overtaken by the weather and weeds. He was glad he was here. He was glad an old man didn’t die with a wish that withered away.

Heading into the house Bimbi snuggled into her blankets tired from the day herself. And he slunk into his room to sleep the rest of the hard work off and do it all over again. His dreams could be better. A lot of worries and concerns that caused stormy skies in his dreams. Instead of peaceful waves, it was boats being sunk my stormy waves.

He was abruptly awoken by Bimbi’s squealing. Not again! Getting up and rushing out the door, he saw a big individual cradling Bimbi in his arms. Trying to run out the door, but they were hobbling. Zoze sighed and quickly went after the individual. Grabbing a bucket off the side of the porch and throwing at the individual's way.

It thwacked them on the head and they fell to the ground.

Bimbi squeezed out of their arms and ran behind him. While he carried a lantern over toward the individual.

“If you’re part of a secret organization that steals prize winning cow pigs, can you tell them I didn’t want to be a part of this anyway,” Zoze mutters.

The individual in question begins to spit dirt on the ground till they stand up. Pin quickly turns around and stares at Zoze. Great.

“That’s the problem!” Pin shouts at him, “You didn’t want it. So give me the pig.”

“Don’t you already have one?” Zoze asked.

“No,” Pin tells him and scowls.

“I meant you’re the pig,” Zoze adds. Pin just glares at him and raises his fist. Zoze uses his free hand to light a mini flame, “Do you want to repeat years ago?”

“I hate it, you have all this fame over a dumb pig,” Pin exasperates.

“I agree, but I am not letting you have Bimbi,”

“Why not? You’re not going to do anything with her. It’s not fair, you weren't’ supposed to win,”

“I’d prefered not to win, but I can’t take it back now,”

Pin glares and puts down his fist. As he does so Zoze stops producing a flame in his hand. Pin digs his toes of his shoes into the dirt at first.

“I put your name in, I didn’t expect you to actually win, your dumb pig looks like every other cow pig,” Pin tells him.

“Actually she has this really oval spot on her back,” Zoze defends Bimbi’s honor.

“That’s the only reason why she won, because it was unique,” Pin scoffs, “But now you know. Put your name in as a prank. I didn’t expect you to win. But since you won, you owe me.”

Zoze sighed.

“Fine you’re right,” he said, “I’ll give you her lifetime supply of feed. But I am not giving her to you.”

Pin glared.

“I want the pig,” Pin demands.

“Have a good evening, I am tired and going to head back to sleep now,” Zoze waves, “I’ll have them send the feed to your location.”

He turns around and walks back to the farm. Certain that Pin won’t actually harm him because he was still too scared of him after what happened to them at school years ago. Still it was very unbecoming of him to hold a grudge this long. How many years had it been? And how easily he forgot.

Yes this was starting to become his life. Something he could settle and ease into. Something he could be comfortable with doing for the rest of his life.