Bamba's past

AN:(I think I'm really starting to like this writing thing. In the past five days I've written four chapters. I just love the feeling of finishing one. I'm releasing them once a week just so I have time to stockpile in case life gets in the way.)

"Brat, we have a lot to talk about." Those words struck me to my core. I have rarely seen him this serious before. His mouth drawn into a thin line with the weight of the world seemingly on his back. He looked older than I have ever seen him before. Thinking about it I never knew how old he was.

"Is it time?" I asked voice wavering. I knew he was dying, Last time he caught me I suggested a revitalization technique so he could regain his youth and live longer, but it seems he didn't learn it in time. Maybe I shouldn't have ran last time. I guess hindsight is twenty-twenty.

"Yeah, time for my final battle. I understood his message and got into a fighting stance. If he wants to die a warrior then I will let him. Over the course of my stay with him I started to understand a warriors heart. Life, death they became absolutes and not something to fear. I will kill, and one day I will die. To die old and feeble would be an insult to someone who has faught his entire life. He wanted to go with one last hurrah.

"WHAT THE HELL BRAT! ARE YOU PLANNING TO KILL ME?"

"Huh" I intelligibly let out "I-I thought you wanted to die fighting?"

"OF COURSE I DO, BUT NOT YOU, I STILL HAVE YEARS LEFT IN ME. DAMNED LITTLE SHIT, DONT GO KILLING ME OFF!"

"Oh," my confusion quickly turned to rage "THEN WHY DID YOU MAKE IT SOUND LIKE YOU WERE DYING! MAYBE YOU SHOULD JUST KEEL OVER!" His fist hit my head, but it wasn't as strong as last time. This simmered my rage. He wasn't being honest about his time left. "What's this about anyway?"

"I'm going to fight an old friend. I want you to come with me." This was unlike him. He said it in a hoarse voice. Clearly this was weighing on him. The only thing I could do was respond with my same disrespect, otherwise he would think that I was giving him pity. He would rather eat a cactus raw than receive pity.

"So your darging me along." I said with bored loon on my face."Give me a sec let me pack up." I looked at the non exploded body and went through his stuff, at first I shyed away from killing, but I picked it up and I guess over time my bandit genes kicked in and I started stealing to survive, while running away from Bamba.

I added this guy's stuff to my backpack and turned to bamba. "Let's go." Bamba walked away and I followed.

We walked until sunset and we set up camp. I picked up sticks and threw them in a pile and started clacking together a flint and steel to set them alight. Bamba quickly set up his tent and I set up mine when I was done with the fire. We sat at the edge of the open flame neither of us spoke. I was used to silence in my travels, but I was alone then. It's really unnerving being beside someone and not talking.

As night descended I spoke just to break the silence "Who's your old friend anyway and why are they so far out in the desert?"

"He's a spirit."

I nearly spit out the water I was drinking before I coughed it down. This is not what I expected. " I thought you hated spirits?"

Bamba closed his eyes nodded solemly "I still do, and will always hate them. They have no place among humans."

He went quite. I shook my head in disbelief "You can't just end it right there, details man. I need details.

His eyes squinted open and he hummed. I could tell he was going to be a bitch about this. "Why should I tell you? You never wanted to listen to me."

I grinded my teeth I knew he was going to be a bitch about it. "This is different. I don't care about your life story, but I damn sure do care about the fact that the biggest anti bender and spirit hater is friends with a spirit."

His eyes remained squinted as a smile appeared on his lips. This bastard was enjoying this. "Well maybe my friendship with the spirit is my life story."

Bastard. I clenched my hands and took a deep breath. "Fine then tell me your life story."

"Maybe I don't want to."

I could feel my eye twitching, but at this point I needed to know. "Can you please tell me?" I asked through gritted teeth.

"Well since you asked nicely I will. It all started winters night when I was born" damn bastard decided to be literal. I wanted to speak up, but if I did I knew that jackass would stop, and he knew I knew so I decided to grin with it and bear it. "It was a desert storm and the winds whipped wildly. Nearly tore the tent from its post, but it held on. There I was brought into the world screaming as all kids were. I was a little bigger than most and my parent's and tribe had high hopes for me. As I grew I excelled in fighting and was promised a nice future in the warrior caste after I completed my training. Unfortunately for them I wanted more than just to be a warrior. I wanted to be chief. So I worked and worked, trained and trained, but I no matter what I did I never got the chiefs attention. So while I was drunk one day after a battle, I killed the chiefs prized lizard camel and ate it. The chief was enraged at me, and he kicked me out of the tribe. He said I could come back if I brought back the head of a great spirit. So off I went. I spent years searching high and low, training all the while. Then one day a sandstorm came from nowhere I searched for a place to hide, but I was to far from a settlement. While stumbling blindly I found a tower and entered. That was then were I might the spirit. It was strong, I could feel it's power radiating off from it. I knew I was no match, so I played coy. I befriended it and planed to kill it while it rested, bit this spirit didn't sleep. He would walk through his tower which was filled with books, he read all day and night. So I read with him. I learned and grew with each book, but I still wanted to return so I studied books on war, spirits, martial arts, and I trianed. Years had passed and I finally felt confident to kill him. I prepared myself for what was to come and attacked him from behind. I had no weapons so I used my fist, alas I was not strong enough. He beat me back and slashed me with his claws and skewered me with his beak, but all the damage he did to me hurt far less then the look on his face. He was hurt by my betrayal and that's when I relized what I was doing. I spent years preparing to kill a firend all for a tribe that didn't want me. In shame I ran. I fled from the tower wounds still bleeding and recuperated. I had hurt my friend for nothing shame filled my very being so I wondered away looking for meaning. I tried to ease my heart by helping the week, but they grew dependent on me, only making them weaker. I tried to easy my heart by killing the wicked, but it brought no joy each battle was easy, nothing to relish in. I had nothing until one day I found an evil spirit harassing an innocent village. I killed it, and then I felt it, relief. So I would hunt evil spirits, but soon found many if not most spirits were evil. They had powers humans and even benders couldn't rival and only I could with my knowledge and training. This imbalance led most spirits who escaped to the physical world to grow corrupt or evil with there powers. That was when I learned spirits had no place with humans. They had power we couldn't match so I hunted them to defend humanity. I killed and killed and became a legend. My path was littered with corpses of spirits and eventually our tribe heard of my exploits. They invited me back and foolishly I accepted thinking I would be welcomed back with arms full, but all that was left was cold looks. The chief had died while I was away and a new chief took his place. That was your mother. Realizing everything I worked for was gone I sat and watched as the world passed. Then you came along. Brat that you were you have made these last thirteen years with you some of my most fond memories. Now that I'm old I wish to find my old friend and apologize. Not only for my betrayal, but for my actions against spirits.

"What was the spirits name?"

"Wa shi tong"