A Life Unattainable

Before the sun graced the horizon, the rhythmic clanging of hammer on anvil echoed across the island. While the village lay in deep slumber, one building pulsed with life, smoke curling from its chimney. The Kyoshi Warriors, unmatched in stealth and combat, could not fathom facing their foes unarmed.

With unyielding determination, a man drew a blazing sword from the forge, laying it upon the anvil. Each strike of his hammer was deliberate and methodical. The blacksmith toiled without rest, infusing every ounce of his skill into perfecting the steel. Every scratch, dent, and speck of rust had to be purged, ensuring the weapon was flawless and safe for its future bearer. On Kyoshi Island, swords are not merely tools, some consider them sacred relics, the most prized and expensive possessions of a Kyoshi Warrior. Even the village chief's second daughter did not merit a blade, which the blacksmiths tended with unwavering devotion.

Once he deemed the weapon's form impeccable, he plunged the sword into a bucket of water, quenching its fiery glow. Holding it aloft, he allowed the blade to cool, the air embracing its gleaming surface. Intricate wave-like patterns shimmered along the metal, mirroring the blacksmith's discerning gaze as he inspected his masterpiece.

A loud yawn echoed from the room's entrance as a young woman in a blue robe barged in unannounced. With only white paint covering her face, she still seemed somewhat sleepy. "You're up early as usual, father. The sun isn't even up yet!" She yawned again, even louder.

"Just finishing the last one, Orihime," the blacksmith replied, sliding the blade into a scabbard and placing it in a basket filled with other swords. For identification purposes, each blade had its own unique scabbard. Despite being the iconic equipment of elite warriors, this didn't stop the scabbards from being decorated with symbols of various flowers.

Orihime pulled her own sword from the bag, savoring its freshness. She then hefted the entire bag onto her shoulder, but struggled under its weight. She attempted to lift it, but ultimately resorted to dragging it across the floor, hoping the blades wouldn't be damaged.

"Don't forget to collect the uniforms," the blacksmith reminded her. "Your mother worked hard on those. I hope you don't treat her work the same way you treated mine."

"I know!" Orihime grunted as she struggled towards the doorway. She glanced at her father, who is meticulously sorting the array of weapons and armor on the shelves. "What about you?"

The blacksmith seemed unusually tense. The typically composed and methodical craftsman, always eager to repair a broken tool or weapon, now exuded a sense of urgency that hinted at something far more significant.

"There is one more weapon I intend to forge," he said, the sweat on his forehead glistening as the forge's fire flared. "I'm doing a favor for the blacksmiths across the island. It's a special request from the head Kyoshi Warrior in their village."

"Lady Oiwa?" Orihime asked.

The blacksmith nodded, emphasizing its importance. He explained that the weapon is being forged for a particular individual, someone reliable yet viewed with suspicion by the neighboring village.

Orihime soon noticed a large metal club resting on a nearby table. It had broken spikes and a slightly misaligned shape. The weapon required immense strength to wield effectively, just swinging it around would quickly sap the user's energy. Though cumbersome, it could shatter the bones of a fully armored foe upon impact. "Father, if it's too much work, I can just go and tell her that—"

The blacksmith immediately shushed his daughter, cutting her off sharply. Superstitions varied widely across the island, and some are more fearful of evil spirits than others. But what if the supernatural wasn't just folklore, but a literal threat?

"I can fix it," he whispered, trying to steady his voice. "Go, and don't speak of this again."

Orihime nodded, opting for silence on the matter. Carefully, she dragged the basket of blades into the living quarters of the building. Despite lacking armor, she could feel the strain on her spine, silently wishing she had someone else to help carry them.

With newly repaired weapons slung over her shoulder, Orihime nearly stumbled into the cozy room, a refreshing contrast to the dust and stifling heat of her father's workshop. There, seated beside a pile of neatly folded silk kimonos, is her mother, diligently sewing with needle and thread.

"Morning," Orihime greeted her with a warm smile.

The seamstress glanced up, skilled hands continuing their delicate work. Inari is not only the village's master seamstress but also a perfectionist who held her daughter to the same high standards she applied to her craft.

"Your face paint is incomplete," Inari observed. Orihime's brows lacked the customary red paint, and time is running short before the day officially began.

The older woman rose from the floor, grasping the lone candle in the room and a small paintbrush. Orihime stood patiently as her mother applied the final strokes of red above her eyes. But Inari's attention to detail didn't stop there. She noticed Orihime's long, flowing hair is in disarray. With practiced hands, she straightened and deftly secured it with a single-pronged hairpin, achieving a balance between practicality and appearance. The reputation of their family demands nothing less, and their only child must always present herself with impeccable orderliness.

"You're not a young toddler anymore," lectured Inari. "Don't rush things, or others will view you unfavorably. A Kyoshi warrior with only white paint symbolizes treachery, suspicion, and a readiness for evil deeds. That's why you must remember the significance of the red—"

"I know," Orihime interjected respectfully. "Red symbolizes honor, heroism, and loyalty. I'm aware."

Impatience came naturally to youth. While a Kyoshi Warrior might display discipline and composure in combat, these virtues didn't always translate to everyday matters. "I just need to get everything ready to teach the trainees at the dojo."

Inari held back from quelling her daughter's eagerness. Guiding younger Kyoshi Warriors is a great honor, bestowed upon few on their island. Typically, only the most skilled fighters earned the right to instruct.

Adding to this responsibility, Orihime is temporarily replacing Mayumi. With the village matron also unavailable, the mantle fell to someone with at least a bit of free time. Unlike the younger generation, older Kyoshi Warriors had other matters such as fishing, sewing and homemaking, which hinders their effort to teach their younger counterparts.

Therefore, Inari saw this as a rare opportunity to enhance their family's standing among the villagers. Yet, it can be understandable why Mayumi is still the preferred instructor. Perhaps the lack of a younger sibling didn't help Orihime cultivate a more patient mindset.

"Forgetting something?" Inari's voice halted Orihime as she made for the door. Her expression conveyed clear disapproval, pointing out Orihime's oversight. The young warrior is still clad in her civilian blue robe instead of her armor.

Orihime realized her mistake with a start. Dropping both swords and uniforms hastily, she hurried to her room. Moments later, she returned, now dressed in a green kimono and dark lacquered armor. She adjusted her gloves swiftly before heading for the exit.

"Ahem!" Inari's dissatisfaction was palpable. Orihime suddenly felt the weight of her own oversight, the absence of the essential headgear that completed a Kyoshi Warrior's attire.

"You're not just any trainee, and an instructor can't afford to be forgetful. It's a great honor to be chosen, but guiding juniors is a weighty responsibility." Inari walked over to a nearby table where two identical golden headdresses gleamed. Though primarily functional in battle, their artistic craftsmanship was undeniable.

The crest on each headdress depicted rice stalks within a circle, mounted on a rectangular metal plate. It is symbol of prosperity and success that had blessed Orihime's family for generations, each member finding fortune in their chosen endeavors. Yet, her parents always emphasized that the crest alone wasn't enough, as hard work is essential to achieving true wealth.

The two golden headdresses, though sharing identical designs, differed visibly in their aged metal appearance.

Inari selected the newer one and carefully secured it around Orihime's forehead. "Off you go, you're running late."

Without a word, Orihime grabbed her swords and uniforms, swiftly making her way through the empty morning streets toward the village dojo. The dim light of dawn greeted the island, its inhabitants gradually stirring from sleep, ready to embrace the day's tasks.

Back in her workspace, Inari resumed weaving, as if the moment with Orihime had not occurred. Her gaze drifted to a painting on the wall, an image of her younger self among other women of her generation. Life on the island is often mundane, far from the tales of heroism and adventure. Many of her peers had chosen to stay, embracing roles as fisherwomen and homemakers alongside their duties as warriors. They lived quiet, peaceful lives, content with their simple existence.

While glory and danger awaited on the battlefield, the virtues of a peaceful artisan's life are often overlooked. Peace and prosperity, found in the everyday rhythms of island life, contrasted sharply with the allure and falsehoods of conflict.

If only a peaceful life is as glamorized as the paintings that depicts grand battles.

...

As the sun slowly ascended over Kyoshi Island, its rays brightened the skies, coaxing residents from their humble wooden lodges to start anew. Life here unfolded at a leisurely pace, the island's unsophisticated existence fostering a quiet routine. The streets lay bare and quiet, interrupted only by returning fishermen from the sea.

On the surface, the fishermen marveled at Satchiko's narrow escape from the Unagi, a tale that concealed deeper concerns from the innocent girl. Many locals are now hesitant to brave the daylight, fearing it might draw the great serpent to their fragile sailboats. While the wealthy in distant cities saw Elephant Koi meat as a costly delicacy, for these islanders, fishing meant livelihood. It is their sole commodity for prosperity and survival. They could forgo luxuries but not the toil of their fearless fishermen, risking their lives to sustain their people. In the ocean lay their sustenance, but only if it is treated with reverence.

Orihime navigated carefully, balancing weapons and delicate robes. Passing the village pier, she glimpsed small sailboats returning, laden with barrels of fresh salmon. Fish splashed in their containers, eager to evade capture. Another bountiful harvest, yet no sign of the elusive Elephant Koi this time.

One of the fishermen spotted Orihime. Clad in blue robe and straw cape, he approached, a steel harpoon resting casually on his shoulder.

"Ah, Orihime!" greeted the bearded, middle-aged man. "Fine day, isn't it? Look at the docks! No ships from beyond the island. No more annoying folks disrupting our peace and quiet!" Ebisu spoke warmly, like a child delighted with a gift from his parents. Known for his mistrust of outsiders, a sentiment he often expressed at island meetings with table-banging vigor.

Since reports of harassment by outsiders from a faraway land had spread among the fishermen, tension simmered beneath the island's calm surface. Many villagers had grown wary of strangers, focusing more on their livelihoods than the complex politics beyond.

"Shut your trap!" shouted a man emerging from a nearby wooden lodge. It is the village's innkeeper. Besides serving locals, the inn's main profits came from seafaring merchants, who are the bigger spenders in the community. "You wouldn't worry, would you? No outsiders mean no money for us! What am I supposed to do when everyone here already has a place to sleep?"

Ebisu rolled up his sleeves, causing the innkeeper to retreat hastily into his establishment. Few dares to provoke Ebisu. Besides being a respected member of the fishing community, he is a formidable figure, claimed to have killed pirates with a tuna cutter, a blade typically used for fish filleting.

"Hmph! These petty people," Ebisu scoffed, his demeanor shifting as he rolled back the sleeves after the innkeeper retreated. "So, first day replacing the chief's daughter, eh?" He reverted to his approachable self.

"Indeed!" Orihime replied proudly, adjusting her grip to manage the weight of her luggage. "Just temporarily. Mayumi will return sooner or later. I'm filling in as an instructor for the trainees."

She withdrew a sword from the bag and presented it to the fisherman. Its wooden guard is adorned with the graceful symbol of an Elephant Koi swimming around it.

Ebisu studied the weapon, visibly impressed by its craftsmanship. Despite his rough exterior, a conflicted expression flickered across his features as he handed the sword back to Orihime.

"People beyond the island live very differently," he remarked with a sigh, hoisting the basket of fish onto his shoulders. "One day they praise our fish as the tastiest, the next they try to deceive us. At least Zaofu and Chin Village still buy from us. It may not be much, but it's better than nothing."

Orihime nodded in understanding, sympathetic to the recent struggles of the fishermen. While most locals are open to interacting with outsiders, even a small spark of conflict could deter villagers from venturing out to sea. The identity of those who had assaulted their fishermen remained unknown, prompting a small delegation to head westward toward the United Republic.

"Hopefully, the three chiefs can resolve the issues with these outsiders," Orihime remarked optimistically.

"Yeah, hopefully," replied the fisherman, his skepticism evident. However, there were clear reasons for his lack of enthusiasm.

The United Republic is not some coastal village where disputes could be settled amicably. Those familiar with the world beyond Kyoshi Island knew it to be a formidable entity in the west. It wielded considerable power with fleets of warships and armies spanning continents. Even amid mainland wars between warlords, the United Republic extended its tendrils, forging alliances with local rulers.

It is also no ordinary state. It is the brainchild of the Avatar, a supposed haven where people from all four nations can coexist. From Aang to Korra, Republic City has evolved into a symbolic capital for the Avatar incarnates, possibly serving as a 'throne' for future Avatars. Thus, from its very creation, the United Republic transcends mere statehood.

To challenge the United Republic is to challenge the very legacy of an Avatar.

"I'm heading to the chief's house to discuss some matters," sighed Ebisu. "My daughter is already waiting at the dojo, so I won't delay you any longer."

"Wait, really?" Orihime was taken aback. It was unexpected that Kazuki was already there. "Then I should hurry, lest I bring dishonor to my family with my tardiness." The Kyoshi warrior balanced the uniforms and weapons carefully as she traversed the path, ensuring they didn't drag along the dirt.

"Need a hand?" offered the fisherman.

Orihime politely declined, though the offer was tempting. The ethos of hard work and the industrious reputation of her family demanded that she carry the items herself all the way to the dojo. Moreover, being seen independently hauling the gear could enhance her standing as an instructor, especially since most Kyoshi Warriors are more accustomed to Mayumi as their mentor.

After Orihime departed, the fisherman continued along the path until he passed the village square and crossed the bridge, reaching the outskirts, an elevated area with trees and a rugged dirt path. This remote spot is away from the bustling village, dotted sparsely with wooden huts but offering an excellent view of both the village itself and the expansive ocean beyond.

Amidst the cluster of identical wooden lodges, one stood out for its vantage point. Its residents could look out their window and see the Kyoshi statue clearly. It is in this very house that his good old friend lived.

"Oi, Chief!" he called out, raising his voice. "You home?"

...

Orihime arrived at her village's lone dojo, a modest structure situated a distance from the main settlement. It resembled any other wooden building, with a thatched roof patched with straw and weathered logs and planks. Positioned next to a dense forest, it ensured that the daily training sessions of the Kyoshi warriors could proceed undisturbed by unwelcome intrusions, at least most of the time. There were moments when some random idiot would just show up, requiring the warriors to handle them in their customary manner.

As Orihime approached, she noticed a lone warrior outside the dojo, adorned with training headbands, gracefully wielding fans in a rhythmic dance. Her dark hair framed her face with two strands hanging loosely over her cheeks. The blades of her fans sliced through the air with precision, as if engaging in combat with an unseen adversary. The longer Orihime observed, the more it seemed as though the Kyoshi warrior was indeed sparring with a real opponent, a practice partner for her training regimen.

Perhaps that is just her hallucination.

"Kazuki!" Orihime exclaimed, feeling unable to support herself any longer. "Help!"

Kazuki swiftly retracted her fans and rushed to Orihime's side, deftly taking the heavy load of swords just before they fell. Orihime let out a relieved sigh at the assistance.

"You got here earlier than me!" Orihime remarked with a smile as they both carried everything into the building. "I've never seen you work this hard before. You've only recently earned your own headdress, so maybe you should take it easy."

Kazuki received the sword with Elephant Koi engravings, seemingly brushing off Orihime's advice. "Just because I'm no longer a trainee doesn't mean I should slack off in training. Satchiko is going to come back stronger, and if I don't evolve, she'll keep beating me." She paused, a hint of sadness crossing her face, not escaping Orihime's notice. "I never win. I'm a year older but she outperforms me in every spar. Doesn't it feel shameful to be surpassed by someone younger?"

Uncertain of how to approach the situation, Orihime cautiously broached the topic. "Aren't you two friends?"

In their younger days, Kazuki and Satchiko, along with a few others, would often sneak glimpses of the older Kyoshi warriors during their training sessions. Both girls aspired to follow in those noble footsteps. However, since becoming trainees, it had become clear that one of them possessed greater natural talent in combat.

"She's Lady Akahana's second daughter, it's natural she'd have an advantage over you," Orihime said gently, carefully arranging the swords on the floor to avoid tripping hazards. "You shouldn't compare yourself to her. It could undermine your own self-esteem. Focus on honing your skills for yourself and to protect others." As she spoke, Orihime spread out the uniforms across the room, inadvertently creating a cluttered appearance in what was once an orderly space. "Take me, for example. My mother always said I rush through tasks and sometimes do a sloppy job. Patience and dedication can be more valuable than being too hard on yourself."

It wasn't perfect advice, but Orihime hoped it would suffice for now.

"You don't understand, Orihime," Kazuki clarified, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "This isn't just about being better than Satchiko. Not everyone has a mother and a big sister who are renowned Kyoshi warriors. There's something more... personal that I need to fulfill." There was a palpable struggle in Kazuki's tone, hinting at a hidden burden or secret she hadn't shared, not even with her closest friend. "I don't hold anything against her. But I can't accept myself always losing." She continued, tightening her grip on the sword's hilt, a gesture that worried Orihime. "Every time I lose a sparring match, it feels like a failure. I feel inadequate, despite our friendship. There's more at stake here than just my own regrets."

Orihime's gaze drifted to a painting hanging on the wall. It depicted women from the previous generation when they were teenagers. Many of them are mothers, aunts, and prominent figures in the village today. Among them is Akahana, currently the strongest Kyoshi Warrior. Next to the matron sat her sister, a figure of high repute in her own right.

On the right end of the painting is Inari the weaver, whose younger self bore a striking resemblance to Orihime. Opposite of her is Kiyo, who is now the village's wine brewer. Both of them hail from the village's two wealthiest families.

Also present were Tomoe and Oiwa, the latter already sporting an eyepatch even in her youth.

The rest are now just ordinary fisherwomen and housewives, performing more mundane roles on Kyoshi Island. Yet, their children had inevitably inherited their legacies, unconsciously comparing their own achievements to those of their direct predecessors. Orihime noticed Kazuki's fixation on a particular Kyoshi Warrior in the center of the painting, an unkempt woman with long, dark hair, clearly not residing in the village anymore.

"I can't keep losing. I need to prove that I'm capable of winning, even just once," Kazuki stated, her gaze fixed intensely on the painting.

Orihime joined Kazuki, playfully suggesting a long-standing rivalry between two families that might span generations.

Kazuki waved off the idea, asserting that notions of honor are merely empty words used for pointless bravado. "There's no rivalry. I'm simply trying to keep pace and not fall behind. These are expectations I've set for myself."

"You may not have a big sister to teach you, but I can," Orihime offered. Kazuki expressed gratitude, recognizing this as an opportunity to improve herself.

Footsteps echoed in the room, drawing Kazuki and Orihime's attention to the entrance where several Kyoshi warriors with training headbands had gathered. Without a word, they grimaced upon seeing the scattered swords and uniforms across the floor. Some suppressed laughter as they began picking up their own gear.

Once everything was in order, they took a moment to admire the newly repaired swords, noticing how the polished steel could double as mirrors, ideal for applying face paints.

"Thanks to the blacksmith for his hard work," one of the warriors remarked, examining her blade. "I'm pretty sure I snapped this sword in half once. Your dad really worked wonders. If it were me, I'd have just forged a new one."

The praise didn't faze Orihime, who is mindful not to let it go to her head. Demonstrating humility is more appropriate in front of her younger peers. She clapped her hands three times, and the group instinctively formed into a disciplined formation, leaving adequate space between them for training.

"Wait, hold on," one of the Kyoshi warriors suddenly interjected. Orihime, positioned at the front, turned to face the younger warrior.

"What's the matter, Koko?" Orihime inquired. "We're running a bit behind on training. If there's an issue, let's address it quickly."

Koko appeared visibly distressed. "Is she going to be here?"

Orihime noticed the unease spreading among the other trainees.

"Is there a problem?" Orihime challenged Koko, her tone sharp with disapproval. "It was my suggestion in the first place, and I see no reason why she shouldn't be teaching you. If you don't respect one of your fellow sisters, you're disrespecting all of us. Right, Kazuki?" Orihime looked to Kazuki for support, but the latter remained silent. Concerned, she turned around. "Kazuki, what's gotten into—"

Kazuki struggled to speak, foam forming at the corners of her mouth. It is a condition usually triggered by intense excitement but now caused by something far more unsettling. There are some creatures in this world that can cause even the flesh to scream, but too afraid to flee. As for fighting? That might be more than suicidal.

Everyone slowly turned to the entrance, where a massive shadow loomed over the dojo floor. A creature from another village stood there, not a mere figment of children's nightmares but a real, ominous presence.

The trainees realized with dawning horror that Orihime hadn't been joking about inviting this figure into their midst.

"Ah, Momiji, you've arrived! I'm glad you could join us!" Orihime greeted, her face bright with genuine warmth. With a smile, she approached the creature standing at the entrance. "Are you ready to teach?"

The creature, with its razor-sharp teeth, nodded slightly in response.

...

Hakaru woke to the sound of movement outside his home, yawning as his sleepy eyes struggled to tear open. Instinctively, he turned to wake up Akahana, only to find her side of the mattress empty. He still needed time to adjust to her absence.

The house felt unusually quiet and empty. He had tasted loneliness before, but never expected to face it again. To him, this emptiness is more unbearable than physical pain.

Dragging himself off the floor mattress, he reached for the glasses and headed to the wooden closet. Inside, there is a humble assortment of clothing. The blue robe worn by the people of Kyoshi Island is common, he even received one made by Akahana before their wedding. But there is also a single green robe, the same one he had kept since the day he arrived.

As he put on the blue attire, he noticed something in his wife's mirror. There is a dusty old sheath slightly out of place, perhaps knocked over when he opened the closet.

Hakaru wrapped the object in bamboo paper and carefully placed it back in the wooden compartment. Then, grabbing a basket filled with ink and brushes, he prepared to teach the village children and meet an old friend along the way.

Just before leaving this humble abode, Hakaru caught a whiff of a smoky, musty scent. He hurried outside and sighed in relief upon finding Ebisu starting a small campfire near the hut, insisting that Hakaru eat before beginning his day's work.

"I appreciate this gesture, Ebisu," Hakaru thanked the fisherman gratefully. "And it's good timing too. Hana taught me some simple recipes, so now would be a good opportunity to put her teachings into practice."

Ebisu enthusiastically handed over a few fresh mackerels for Hakaru to experiment with. The chief retrieved Akahana's personal cooking pot and began frying the fish over the fire.

The outcome was far from what they had expected.

"So... what do you think?" Hakaru presented a small plate of burnt fish, secretly relieved that his wife wasn't present to witness this culinary disaster. Despite being the village's most professional literati, it is clear that culinary skills weren't his forte.

Ebisu burst into hearty laughter. His mouth wide open in amusement rather than malice. "You know how to read and write, but cooking seems to be a different story! Quite amusing!" He patted Hakaru's back, genuinely praising his effort to create an edible meal. Tentatively, he took a bite of the fish. "I must say, old friend, this is the first time I've seen you cook! It's... not bad, actually."

Hakaru sensed the comment was made out of kindness. He knew better than anyone how disastrous the dish truly is. The mackerels were charred beyond recognition, their skins toasted to an inedible crisp. It is almost comical how a few misplaced spices could ruin a dish so thoroughly.

Much to Hakaru's relief, Ebisu offered to cook a meal. However, his anticipation turned to concern when the large fisherman suggested eating the fish raw.

"My stomach doesn't handle raw food well," Hakaru replied with a forced smile. The varied diet between Kyoshi Island and the mainland meant people often had different tolerances to the foods they consumed. For Hakaru, it had taken a long time to adjust to the local cuisine. Raw dishes, especially fish, tends to give him stomachaches. Coming from a background where wheat-based ingredients predominated, eating fish without cooking it was particularly challenging, despite such practice being enjoyed by many locals.

"Here, let me show you how it's done, my treat," Ebisu said reassuringly. He discarded the burnt fish and retrieved a freshly caught salmon from his basket. With practiced skill, he scaled and sliced the fish into thin pieces, the process appearing effortless and methodical. It was as if this rugged fisherman could rival chefs employed by royalty.

"Do you have any soy sauce?" Ebisu inquired, glancing at Hakaru. "It pairs perfectly with this."

"I think there's some," Hakaru replied, disappearing into his wooden lodge briefly before returning with a bowl filled with soy sauce.

"I know your stomach can't handle raw fish like the rest of us," Ebisu said, producing a bottle of rice wine from his bag. For the islanders, grain is much harder to come by than seafood, making rice and sorghum-based liquors valuable commodities. "Kiyo was quite stingy with the prices, but I managed to trade twenty salmon for this."

Sensing where this is headed, Hakaru quickly attempted to decline with grace. "You know my wife doesn't allow wine in the house. Besides, I only drink tea. If you'd like, I can brew you some Oolong." He then recalled the premium tea he reserved for special guests. "Or perhaps some Tieguanyin? It's exceptional."

Ebisu grimaced, trying to bridge the gap between their tastes. "Chief, what you have are just leaves steeped in hot water. What I have here is the real deal!" He waved the bottle enticingly in front of Hakaru, but his efforts were met with polite resistance. "And wasn't Lady Akahana quite the drinker in her youth? Didn't she drag you along to sneak into the village wine house and then tried to—"

"Let's not dwell on the details!" Hakaru quickly interjected, nearly losing his composure. Although Akahana is strict and disciplined, it's an open secret that no one dares to mention her past. The Kyoshi Warrior leader would be offended by both the trivial and significant events of her youth.

"Fine, no wine in your house then," Ebisu conceded, setting down his basket and fishing net. He strolled onto the front porch, sat down, and placed the plate of raw salmon and bottle of wine on the wooden floor. "She didn't say anything about drinking it here, did she?" He laughed heartily, knowing Hakaru couldn't counter this impeccable logic with his scholarly eloquence. The fisherman even boldly claimed that not even an Earth Sage could outsmart him.

The chief let out a resigned sigh. "Fine."

"That's the spirit!" Ebisu exclaimed, pouring two cups of fermented rice wine.

Both men sat on the porch, savoring the potent liquor while enjoying freshly caught salmon slices. The wine is certainly strong, but Hakaru felt confident he could handle it. Though the raw salmon lacked the finesse of Akahana's cooking, it was enjoyable in its simplicity. Many in the village, including Sachiko, would argue that salmon is the only meat that can rival the revered Elephant Koi.

With wine and food, conversation flowed easily between them. Hakaru listened patiently to Ebisu's grievances, whether they are significant or trivial. Despite his role as village chief, Hakaru personally detest politics, making it a relief when the fisherman discussed the simpler aspects of life. Even though Ebisu's speech was rough and coarse, it possessed a charm far superior to the insincere pleasantries of the gentry.

"Let me tell you, Hakaru, remember that kid Kintaro?" Ebisu's mood darkened at the mention of the name, and he downed a whole cup of wine to quell his frustration. "Since my daughter is always busy at the dojo, I can't disrupt her training by asking her to help me fish. So, I hired that boy next door."

"Ah yes, one of my former students," Hakaru recalled. "He struggled at first, but he certainly surprised me."

"It doesn't matter if he's smart, my friend!" Ebisu bellowed. "Fishing isn't a job for just anyone. That boy is weak, with no muscle to speak of. He couldn't catch a carp with his bare hands! I've seen younger girls who are stronger than him! You may have been his teacher, but I regret hiring him!" He emptied another cup of wine, trying to drown out the memory of his poor decision. "That kid is a burden to all fishermen. All he cares about is building some fishing trap that doesn't even work!

Hakaru couldn't let the last remark slide. As a teacher, he felt compelled to highlight the merits of a past pupil.

"He has... potential. Strength isn't always the answer. Ingenuity has its place in this world too." He took a sip of the wine, finding it rather bitter. "Remember when we were young? Let the younger generation explore their talents, Ebisu. You might be surprised."

"What? But weak people, they are—" Ebisu cut himself off, remembering that his old friend is a pretty defenseless scholar. "Ahem, I mean, I suppose I can allow him to further test his little toys. But I won't let him near my daughter!"

Hakaru nodded, respecting the fisherman's stance. Although both Kazuki and Kintaro are merely friends, few parents are indifferent to such relationships, even platonic ones. As fathers, it was easy for Hakaru to empathize with Ebisu's concerns.

An awkward silence fell between them. Hakaru glanced up at a nearby tree where a bird's nest nestled in the branches. Two adult sparrows returned to the nest to feed their two chicks. The four of them then settled together, a scene of harmony that seemed to embody how life should be. Yet, Hakaru knew such idyllic moments are fleeting.

"It's not easy," Hakaru sighed, the weight of his thoughts pressing heavily upon him. "My eldest daughter refuses any suitors seeking her hand in marriage. As her father, I respect her decision. People here even praise me for my magnanimity, given that arranged marriages are the norm where I come from." He gazed at Ebisu, one of his oldest friends who had welcomed him with open arms so many years ago. "And so what if I'm a bit selfish? Only the truly heartless would see their children as bargaining chips. Those sons of merchants and landowning nobles might offer a lavish bride price, but no gold or porcelain can replace the time spent with my family." His determined expression wavered, betraying the vulnerability beneath. "But even if I did everything right, I would never stop my daughter from finding true love. Letting go, however, will be the hardest part."

Ebisu fell silent, the gravity of the conversation sinking in. He poured another cup of wine for his friend, and together they drank, hoping the potent flavor might momentarily dull their anxieties. Parenting is hard enough, but the prospect of finally completing their duties and letting go is even more painful.

Not wishing to dwell too long on this bittersweet aspect of parenthood, Hakaru steered the conversation in a new direction. While it was comforting to discuss the simpler things in life, now seemed the perfect time to address more pressing matters.

"I know you aren't here just to talk about food and drinks, old friend," Hakaru correctly deduced. Ebisu, the representative of all the fishermen in his village, rarely shows up without a serious matter to discuss with the chief.

"Chief, you and I have been working together for over twenty years," Ebisu began, his expression growing serious. "I heard that you and the other chiefs have decided to arrange a delegation, hoping they can reach the place where the grey ship came from and figure out what happened that day."

Hakaru nodded. Despite the calming effect of the tea, his position remained fraught with stress. The sudden incursion by an unidentified grey ship was deeply concerning. The assailants had arrived without warning and departed just as discreetly, leaving the islanders puzzled about their intentions and why they had harmed the fishermen. With limited options and information, one of the other village chiefs proposed sending a team of representatives to Republic City, the presumed origin of the grey ship.

"Those were our traditional hunting grounds they trespassed upon," Ebisu emphasized heavily, his frustration palpable. "The only others we share that space with are folks from nearby mainland towns. There's plenty of fish in the ocean to sustain everyone in the region, but that won't happen if our livelihoods are threatened by outsiders from the west!"

Hakaru sipped his wine in silence, allowing Ebisu to vent his frustration. If the attack on their fishermen had been an isolated incident, it might not have warranted much concern. But what troubled the chief were reports from beyond the island. Fishermen in coastal mainland towns spoke of grey ships sporadically harassing locals, and he had even received a letter from nearby Chin Village detailing this new threat.

Ebisu crossed his large, muscular arms. "What right do these people have to trample on us?"

"They have every right," Hakaru responded calmly, initially perplexing Ebisu. The fisherman realized it must be another one of those elaborate ways scholars speak to appear sophisticated. The chief stood and gazed down at their village nestled below the hill. Though it lacked grand palaces or ornate walls, it was their home. "We're just a small island in the middle of nowhere. I doubt anyone in Republic City would take us seriously."

There is simply scant negotiation power on their side. Kyoshi Island is remote, with no strategic significance or valuable resources. Why would a powerful state entity on the western side of mainland regard this tiny island as an equal?

A loud bang reverberated, almost shattering the plates. Ebisu made his bitterness crystal clear. "It's already hard enough that our people are menaced by bands of pirates, and now these curs are bullying us?"

"If mere bullying were their only aim, it might be tolerable," Hakaru replied, his tone tinged with foreboding. With his broader knowledge of the outside world, he feared those enigmatic grey ships might signify something far more sinister than mere bullies. There is a reason why the United Republic's influence stretched across the world. Yet, Ebisu clung to any shred of hope for a solution.

"Your sister-in-law, she's in the Fire Nation," Ebisu interjected hastily. "We could send a messenger bird there. She might be able to help us."

Hakaru sighed, acknowledging Ebisu's valiant attempt. A fisherman on Kyoshi Island understandably lacked the worldly political insight of someone well-versed in governance philosophies. "Firelord Izumi has no interest to embroil her nation into such mundane affairs. I personally doubt the Fire Nation would risk their diplomatic relationship with their very own creation for the sake of a tiny island. Even if that was the case, a retired Firelord also have strong influence in the royal court. As amicable as that old man may be to us, his precious brainchild is probably much more important to him than an island he once attacked." He turned to Ebisu, elaborating on the last point. "I have seen how men have allowed their ideals to blind their judgement. Many are willing to defend it to the grave."

"Then what do you suggest we do?" Ebisu asked, struggling to contain his frustration. "After all our meetings, gathering elders and leaders from all the villages, none of us have devised a better solution. Our pockets are not deep, you know?"

Hakaru didn't offer a clear answer, because he didn't have one. While most locals are solely concerned about the grey ships harassing their fishermen, Hakaru had glimpsed the broader world and feared what they stood to lose by opposing a more powerful force. Kyoshi Island lacked alliances, no dependable benefactors who could aid them in resisting encroachment. Faced with such disparity, an impartial Avatar would surely prove invaluable in mediating between two vastly unequal parties.

"Just wait and see, old friend. Hopefully, the delegates can resolve it peacefully," Hakaru attempted to reassure Ebisu, though the fisherman remained unconvinced. Dissatisfied with the answer, Ebisu poured himself another cup of wine.

"Hic!" Ebisu's face flushed with drunkenness, his mind clouded by the alcohol slowly permeating his thoughts. The combination of nighttime fishing and drink made it nearly impossible for him to stay awake. His words spilled out uncontrollably, recounting amusing memories of Hakaru's first day on Kyoshi Island. "Heh, your face was like a beehive when Akahana mistook you for a pirate! You should've seen yourself!"

The chief smiled gently. Strangely, that memory was oddly pleasant, despite the near-death experience it had involved. Ebisu's sincerity was evident, even though outsiders were often regarded with suspicion on the island.

Ebisu continued in a drowsy, sentimental manner, reflecting on the similarities in their life experiences. The chief listened intently, understanding that their shared history was what initially endeared Ebisu to him upon his arrival. Cast into the ocean as an infant, Ebisu miraculously washed ashore on Kyoshi Island, where he was raised and eventually became a skilled fisherman.

"Just let me lie here and rest a bit," Ebisu murmured wearily, his eyes heavy with fatigue. "From the day you arrived here, I knew you weren't some spy sent by pirates." The chief swiftly caught Ebisu before he could collapse to the ground. With gentle strength, Hakaru helped him settle his head against a soft patch of grass.

Throughout the past two decades, Hakaru had cherished Ebisu's unwavering trust, even in moments of inebriation. There were times when he pondered what his life would have been like had he stayed on his original path, seeking solace and refuge at the nearby Air Temple, far from the world's turmoil. If he hadn't embraced life on the island, surrounded by the warmth of family and friends, perhaps he wouldn't have deviated from his earlier aspirations.

Ebisu finally succumbed to his weariness. Working through the night and a bit of alcohol had taken its toll, leaving his body craving rest. Recognizing the opportunity to leave, Hakaru picked up his basket. It is the same one he had carried on his first day arriving on the island, now filled to the brim with books that marked his dual role as village chief and scholar.

"It's been wonderful talking with you," Hakaru said warmly. "But I must take my leave now." He adjusted the rope of the basket over his shoulders, hoping the faint aroma of wine would fade by the time he arrived at the school.

However, his departure was interrupted by an unexpected sight. An eagle descended from the sky, landing on the wooden lodge's fence with a commanding screech that demanded Hakaru's attention.

Approaching cautiously, Hakaru regarded the bird of prey. Unlike the usual messenger hawks, this eagle is a more imposing messenger. Carefully, he untied the letter box from its powerful leg and opened it.

The handwriting style is indeed distinctive, almost ornate, but the characters remained decipherable. Hakaru's hands trembled as he held the letter, nearly dropping it in his agitation. For the first time in his life, he wished he couldn't read.

But that wasn't the worst of it. He also had two additional wanted posters, and as he recognized the faces depicted, he couldn't stifle a gasp. The crimes listed against the fugitives are described as 'heinous actions' against the state of Yi, with a staggering reward offered for their capture.

Yi dwarfed Kyoshi Island in size and wealth, boasting abundant ores and minerals along with cordial relations with the United Republic. Hakaru faltered, fully aware of the dire consequences if Yi's leadership intervened in their current predicament.

A sense of despair crept over him as he wrestled with the gravity of the situation. His immediate concern is how to alert Akahana to this troubling development. However, dealing with the unpredictable nature of the White Lotus in their pursuit of the Avatar made planning fraught with uncertainty. Compounding the challenge is the vast expanse of the Earth Kingdom, where geomancers offered varying and often contradictory insights into the possible whereabouts of the Avatar.

End of Chapter Notes:

-In the original mythology, Ebisu was cast into the sea, but was cared for by the Ainu, who inspired the canon depiction of Kyoshi Island villagers.

-There were thoughts of including more characters beyond just Satchiko and Mayumi. But I felt that involving more main characters from the island might be a bit redundant on the journey, as it might distract the dynamic of the duo.