Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The tide is rising. Don’t panic, don’t jerk, keep your head clear and your eyes open —

With one swift movement, the boat lunged violently, bringing it and the crew on it flying towards a thick block of ice. This is it, he thought. I’m going to die and not even officially be a man. Who digs a grave for someone like me? My tombstone will be, ‘Disappointed, but not surprised.’ Death by iceberg. You’d think a—

As the panic set into his bones and he felt himself freeze, despite the layers of fur adorning his body, Changkyun’s shoulder hit the floor of the boat and he heard the familiar yell of his father’s voice. Expert — albeit angry — hands steered them away from the doom lingering in front of them, his crew correctly managing the ship and sails, now, and if he wasn’t dazed, he’d probably jump into the water himself. 

Even as the boat pulled up to its respective dock, the boy didn’t move, and no one bothered to help him up as they pushed their way off of the deck. His body stayed in the odd slumped position he was pushed into, eyes blinking while snowflakes set into the lashes. Really, he wasn’t surprised, and he was sure no one else was, either. Again — ‘Disappointed, but not surprised.’ 

There were no movements for a while, the only sound coming from the cluster of tribe members minding their business a few yards away. He didn’t hear his father, but he heard a crew member talking to someone about how he, “felt sorry the kid,” but also, "wished his dog would maul him so that they wouldn’t have to do this every year anymore.” 

That was fair, he thought. He scream-laughed in exasperation and the pure hilarity of it all.

Understandably, hearing footsteps make their way up onto the deck and towards him made him nervous, but only for a moment, so he didn’t give his body time to tense up. Changkyun’s face was facing the wall next to him, so as he opened his mouth to speak, he realized his words would be muffled.

Luckily, he was beaten to it.

“Yah, I see the boat isn’t broken this time. If nothin’ else, there’s that to be proud of, yeh?” 

Finally rolling over, Changkyun looked up and was (mostly) relieved to see the familiar and friendly, though teasing, face of Minhyuk smiling down at him with glimmering eyes and his hands on his hips, stance accusatory. “Your dad, though? He’s broken, Changkyunnie. Even he can’t fix himself, or you, who will never be a man. Happy birthday!” 

That stung. He wouldn’t say it, but it stung, and Changkyun would rather be considered a “boy” his whole life if it meant he didn’t have to keep doing these ice dodging ceremonies. It wasn’t as if his father was a captain, but he was a bender, and a good one at that, so Changkyun was a direct reflection of him and all of his skills. 

Of course, his father’s skills were more than he could ever imagine or dream of obtaining. 

Pushing himself up and off of the floor with a frown, Changkyun glowered at Minhyuk and pulled his coat tighter around himself, taking off whatever bullshit equipment he had to put on for the expedition. The tight turns had left parts of him covered in cold water, and it just started snowing, so he was hoping there was a fire somewhere he could sink in next to.

“Thanks. Happy seventeenth, happy fourth failed dodging,” he replied, moving his hands upwards to lift the water off of himself and flick it all at the man in front of him. Understandably, Minhyuk jumped back, yelling out in protest as a smirk formed on Changkyun’s chapped lips. “You practically gave yourself that, Minhyuk.”

“I do nice things for you,” he whined, pouting like Changkyun poured a bucket of solidifying freezing water over him, “and you treat me like this? I got you a present. I fed your dog. I have your dog.” 

"I know you think you’re cute like a puppy and whatever it is, but you’re not mine. Sorry.”

“Idiot, you know I’m a better bender than you so if you th–"

“That’s not the conversation we’re having, do you just like to hear yourself talk?”

“–ink for a minute that I won’t drench you and burn your gift like a firebender with a child—"

"Is that a real analogy? Minhyuk, stop talking–"

“–you’re right but only because I worked hard on it. I’ll keep it for myself. Watch yourself, punk.”

Blinking, Changkyun gave one last glance at Minhyuk before turning to scan the land for his polar dog. He blended in quite well, and when it snowed, he tended to wander off, but it also wasn’t surprising to see him sitting by the dock, feet tapping around as he tried to keep still. “So, anyway,” he said, looking back at his friend to address him again, “a gift? That’s cute. Is it a rope to gag you with? Even that wouldn't get you to keep quiet.” 

Lifting his eyebrows, Changkyun weaved around a confused Minyuk and waddled towards his dog, arms outstretched as he called out and pointedly ignored his friend's protests. “Bub! Bubba, hello, I missed you–” 

As he settled on the dock, his pet sitting in his lap (polar dogs weren’t “lap” animals by any means but it didn’t matter; he couldn’t kick Bub off, it just wasn’t ethical or sensible), Minhyuk quietly came up and sat next to him. There were a few minutes of silence, and Changkyun assumed the other was watching the tribe wander around, scurry to get ready for nightfall, one father talking to his son intensely – after all, it was the child's ceremony the next day, and a father would want him to be prepared. 

Changkyun wouldn’t be surprised if he was being used as an example.

“Are you going to be okay?” 

For a long while, Changkyun didn’t respond, but only because he figured Minhyuk wasn’t talking to him. It was when he felt his friend studying his face that he realized the question was actually thrown his way, and it made his stomach twist. He felt… odd, unsure of how to answer something like that, as no one had ever said anything like that to him before. Was he going to be okay? What did that even mean? What context was this?

“Uhhhf course,” Changkyun coughed out, looking down at a tired Bub, wondering if he understood and could feel the anxiety coursing through his veins. Despite his answer, he didn’t look at the other, mind racing. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“People talk. I know you know that,” Minhyuk pointed out, softly, and when Changkyun looked up again Minhyuk was biting his bottom lip. “I was just making sure.” 

Taking a deep breath, Minhyuk stood slowly and regained his cheerful smile, eyes wide and bright with excitement. “Let’s go. There's warm dinner for you at my place and my present with a nice bow. My mom wants to wish you happy birthday, anyway.” 

A pang shot through Changkyun’s heart, imagining Minhyuk’s sick mother cooking something heart-warmingly delicious for him, kissing his forehead and telling him something sweet for his seventeenth year of life. She was always like that, taking care of the children around her if they came to her for comfort, but he knew Minhyuk never felt unappreciated. It was something special.

“Sure, sure,” he murmured, gently nudging Bub awake and off of his legs, which became numb and cramped. When he stood and nearly fell over, Minhyuk caught him, and they stood still in the quiet until Changkyun could walk again.

Normally, they were talkative, playful, happy. They were practically inseparable, their lives intertwining like vines and veins, but an odd, thick coating of uncomfortableness settled right on top of them. It was heavy enough that even Bub could tell, and he stayed calmly by their side instead of rushing ahead. It was heavy enough that Changkyun could focus on counting the snowflakes that landed on his sleeve instead of holding a conversation. 

It took less that five minutes to reach the Lee hut, but it felt like hours, felt like the sky was taunting them for still being out when no human should be showing at such an odd time. It wasn't all that late, however, and a nice fire radiated through Minhyuk’s residence, three plates of fish and bowls of stew sure enough set around a table.

“Ah, boys,” came a kind voice, and when Changkyun saw the woman kneeling in the corner, looking through a bookcase, a smile on her face, he thought the melted flakes on his coat would dry instantly. Once boots were wiped off on the designated mat and the coats were rid of any water (“I'll do it this time,” Minhyuk mumbled, taking Changkyun’s coat, “because when you did this last all you accomplished was getting me wet.”) and hung up, the three of them were sat around the small round table, Bub laying quietly by the fire.

“So you’re seventeen, Changkyun,” Jina, Minhyuk’s mother, said, a few minutes into a silent dinner. “Seventeen, and you're still a boy?” 

Changkyun felt his heart sink. He stared down at his meal, pushing the fish around on his plate with a single chopstick. The fresh tea that was just set in front of him as well mixed oddly with the smell of his dinner, and he wished he would get sick, to excuse himself. To be polite, he looked up, seeing Minhyuk’s wide eyes going slowly from him, to his mother, and Changkyun began, “I–”

“You don't look like a boy to me,” Jina interrupted, a glimmer in her eye that reminded him of her son. “Minhyukkie, don’t you have a gift for him? He's waited long enough for something.”

“Oh – right,” stammered a nervous friend, who clumsily stood and hurried to a small cabinet. Inside, Changkyun noticed he pulled out something folded and tied with ribbon, and as Minhyuk kicked the cabinet doors closed a large bow was revealed, as well. “Don’t be too harsh. I haven't had much practice, but Ma helped me,” Minhyuk said, handing the thing over, which was now very clearly a coat, much like the one he was wearing earlier. It made sense – sewing was a usual practice for specifically women in the water tribe, and Minhyuk’s mom happened to be especially fantastic at it. He wasn't all that surprised upon seeing it at first, but as he untied the ribbon and took off the bow, he realized just how special this was.

Yes, it was a coat, made with fabric and a bunch of warm fur, but it was intricately designed with patterns of different colored thread, patterns that could take even an expert a ridiculous amount of time to make. Snowflakes, florals, and swirls adorned the clothing front, back, and sleeves, but what was really special was at the collar: “IM” embellished in the most beautiful shade of a light blue thread, contrasting the dark blue of the coat fabric itself. It was all amazing, and Changkyun wasn't sure what he did to deserve such a masterpiece, but when he looked up to see Minhyuk beaming at him, he could hardly utter out an astonished, “Thank you,” before he was enveloped in the warmest of hugs from his bestest of friends. 

"Your other one smells bad,” Minhyuk explained. “You're welcome.” 

—

The dinner came with plenty of talking and laughing and when Jina asked if he'd be okay going home or if he needed to stay, Changkyun’s heart thudded but he waved her off and said it would be fine. After all, his parents knew his birthday routine and were likely asleep, so what was the big deal? 

But as he took his things and left, Bub trailing behind, obviously sleepy, an odd feeling of guilt placed in his chest. He wasn't sure why, as it came out of nowhere and didn't mean anything to him, but it was enough to make him collapse in the middle of a clearing just to breathe. 

And breathe. 

And breathe.

Things ran through his mind that he refused to listen to, thoughts he refused to collect; nothing made sense to him, even after somehow dwelling for hours, but he knew the sun was going to come up soon and if his parents woke up and he wasn't there…

Standing, finally, his feet carried him towards his home, Bub nudging him whenever he stopped. Did his dog have a sense of what was happening? Or was it pure luck? 

He liked to think Bub wasn't clueless. He liked to think he was as in tune with someone as he liked to believe he was with himself. 

It had stopped snowing, by then, but it still collected on the bottom of his boots and his coat. He ended up just taking both off, setting Minhyuk’s gift on the table before quietly tiptoeing to the tent used for sleeping near the left side of the hut. As he peaked in, Changkyun’s stomach dropped heavier than a boulder. His parents were soundly asleep, his own mat vacant, and the sight, for some reason, stuck a sword through his heart. He was letting them down, wasn't he? Completely, one hundred percent. They were ruined because of him, with no worthy successor. 

Perhaps it was blindly that Changkyun let them be and hurried to grab a sack, shoving clothing and money and other “essentials” into it after rummaging through drawers and cabinets. His new coat was also carefully placed inside, and the only note he left was on a small piece of paper, on the table:

“dont look for me” 

With that, his shoes and old (and smelly) coat were flung on, a confused Bub trotting with Changkyun as he rushed to Minhyuk’s residence as quickly as he could without making it a big ordeal. 

Once again, the snow fell, and with a quiet apology to Jina, he didn't bother taking his shoes off before going in and to the others' sleeping tent. Upon seeing Minhyuk, laying on his mat and sleeping soundly, Changkyun stuffed a shirt laying next to him in his mouth and shook him awake, realizing how awful he must have looked at that moment.

“Whh–at are you– Changkyun?” 

"Get up. Get up, Minhyuk,” he pleaded, tugging on his friend’s arm to get him to his feet. As the other struggled to put on something more warm, Changkyun pulled him out to their living quarters, doing the same thing he did to his own house: going through drawers and cabinets and whatever else to get essentials.

“Changkyun– Ch– Changkyun!” 

The boy only stopped when his name was whispered in such a harsh tone by a voice that was only sweet to him. Breathing hard, Changkyun blinked and turned, pressing his lips together as he shook his head.

“Changkyun,” Minhyuk breathed, eyes sparkling, “what the fuck is going on?”

“We have to go to the North,” Changkyun stated, voice shaking. “Minhyuk, the Northern Water Tribe. We have to.”

Chapter Text

The suffocating January air weaved its way through the bustling streets, squeezing in between the citizens it encountered to get to its next designated location. It was a mix of dusty and chilling, thick enough to make you turn your head but not enough to make you stop looking at the fruit that was fifty percent off sitting on a table. Unnerving, not disturbing.

Even so, the breeze wasn’t friendly; it didn’t want to shake your hand or take you out to dinner first, and, really, some people just wanted more than that. Commitment was a must, and the wind around this area came and went as it pleased.

It managed to slip past the armored defenses known as a door , however, invading the immediate area with an aggression only understood in the form of a ding, ding -- the little golden bell that was hung up ringing, that is. Along with it came muffled chatter from the bodies outside, footsteps making their way along the wooden floor to reach whatever destination it was they were going for.

A soft exhale made its way out of formed lips, tired eyes squeezing shut. The time was early, but late enough that a large amount of people still flooded the roads and the shops sat along them. Hyungwon’s only wish was to be in bed, asleep, or at least curled up on his mattress instead of on a windowsill, blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

He was stationed at his father’s shop, the most trusted place to find quality tea leaves and tea accessories, as he was most days. Since his father wasn’t usually there himself, Hyungwon was responsible for the business, the merchandise, the customers, and their single employee (who, honestly, wasn’t that much of a worry, seeing as how he kept to himself and was as trustworthy as a tea shop worker could get) the majority of the time.

As surprising as it may be, tea wasn’t exactly the most exciting subject to focus on.

Shifting from his position of lounging against the window, Hyungwon moved to his feet and shuffled towards the back of the room, where the customer had traveled. Their employee wasn’t in yet, so it was up to him to take on the job of actually working.

As he got closer, the outline of the mystery person got a bit clearer, and though they were wearing a hood, their head was turned just enough for a sliver of silver hair to show. Their eyes, large and softened with long, dark eyelashes, were calm, the corners of their red lips turned up just slightly. Their attire would have been sketchy had it not been for the gentleness of their facial features: the dark green hooded shirt with no sleeves, brown ankle-pants that seemed too big with flats matching the color of their top.

Odd, definitely. A strange style. Had it just been that, Hyungwon wouldn’t have been quite as nervous, but the addition of tight bandages winding up the stranger’s feet and calves, knuckles and forearms…

They were looking at an assortment of Dancong teas, and if they noticed Hyungwon, they didn’t let on. Their hands were stuffed into their pockets, and though he didn’t really like to judge by first glance…

“Ah, if you’re gonna stand there, the least you can do is talk.”

Without missing a beat, the stranger turned, pulling their hood down to stare at Hyungwon with a surprisingly friendly look. Now that they were facing one another, Hyungwon had a better view of the person, and was quite surprised to see the muscle definition on his arms. A pang of jealousy (and fear, definitely fear) hit him, but he stood his ground, no stutter to be seen.

“It’s not proper to walk around a shop with your hands in your pockets,” he pointed out, his voice sounding bored, despite being intrigued. “Especially when you look the way you do.”

Surprisingly, the man’s eyes lit up, and the corners of his lips pulled up just a little more as he let out a breathy giggle. It made Hyungwon nervous, for some reason, and he admittedly did tense up as the other slipped his hands deeper into his pockets, slowly, locking their eyes together. Brown on brown.

All at once, the stranger ripped his hands from his pockets with a yell, causing Hyungwon to jump back. The momentary panic turned into anger as he realized there wasn’t any kind of weapon, nor tea, in the other’s pockets, and his anger didn’t subside at all as a jubilant laugh rang around the store.

“That really, really never gets old,” he wheezed, doubling over and using the wall for support. With a deep breath, he stood back up and took off the across-the-chest bag he had been wearing, offering it to Hyungwon, smile still plastered to his face. “Here. You can check this, too, if you want. Really.”

There was, probably, steam coming from Hyungwon’s ears as he eyed the bag being held out to him. Quickly, he snatched it away, opening the flap to look into it and find…

Nothing.

Nothing of importance, really. Just everyday bag items, and some rocks. A deep exhale left Hyungwon’s mouth, and he shook his head, opening his mouth to speak only to be interrupted.

“Yah, I was scared for a moment, y’know? Like a branch-man about to attack me in a tea shop. Not everyday you see someone so non-threatening trying to size you up after assuming you were going to rob them... “

The other man’s eyes were glimmering, a big smile, big enough to show his gums, stuck onto his stupid face. What is this? was all Hyungwon could think in the moment, as his engine started up again. Was he being tested? Was this some sort of stupid provocative interaction just to get into a fight?

If it was or it wasn’t, it didn’t matter. With a squeeze of his fist, knuckles paling, the rocks sitting in the man’s bag flew out and aimed directly for his face and neck, dispersing into shards as they went. He wasn’t really questioning why they were there in the first place, as his frustration was at an all time high from having to deal with someone like this. He would have to deal with it later.

Or, maybe he wouldn’t, because just before the pebbles could hit him the other man lifted his finger, smile stretching wider. The bits of rock dropped to the ground and he gently took his bag back, pulling out a few coins as well as a piece of paper and grabbing a bag of Da Hong Pao.

“Tonight, make your way to the area marked on this map,” he said, making his way towards the door, dropping the money and the paper on the front table. Then, halfway outside with his hood pulled up, he turned back for a quick moment, the glimmer returning to his eyes.

“Tell them Coups sent you.”

-

Truth be told, Hyungwon wished he could throw the paper away and never think about the unnerving (disturbing?) encounter ever again. He knew, however, that that would be practically impossible; something like that cannot be forgotten in the blink of an eye, or two, or however many you’d assume it would take. He was lucky his employee came in, because if he didn’t, nothing would have gotten done in the shop that day. Hyungwon was beyond distracted.

Obviously, he ended up looking at the neatly folded paper, which was an actual map that just showed how to get from the city to what looked like a series of mountains and caves (along with a plethora of doodles and notes that were likely unnecessary). It was confusing, and the fact that Hyungwon trusted it so quickly was unsettling. Despite that, he studied it for the whole day, repeating the man’s words in his head.

“Tell them Coups sent you.”

Spending his entire working hours dwelling on the experience made it go by surprisingly quickly, so after locking up and saying goodbye to their employee, Hyungwon once again looked over the directions under a street lamp and grew frustrated. “Tonight.” What time is tonight? He really preferred more details.

With hesitant steps, he set out, weaving through the streets of the city until he was eventually outside of it. Carefully, Hyungwon moved into the mountains, looking for one that, “should be obvious,” according to a note written in purple ink. While that sounded dumb, he soon understood what it meant, because there was literally a cave entrance with a guard standing outside.

Oh, joy.  

He was already there, and since he didn’t know what it was, he decided he should keep a straight back and act like he had a clue. Even if that’s what he did, it was obvious he wasn’t fitting in; he saw glimpses of people inside, and no one was really dressed like him, in semi-formal day wear. He gave himself away.

The guard, who looked both unimpressed and amused, gave Hyungwon a once-over as he spoke. “I’m here b--”

“Branch boy!” sang a sickeningly familiar voice, and before he knew what was happening the man from the morning (Coups?) pulled him into the cave’s entrance, smile on his face. He was dressed mostly the same, though his bandages were now dirty. Hyungwon shivered. “I really can’t believe you came. Come sit with me, yeah? I have something I think you’d be good at, really.”

Before he had a chance to protest, Hyungwon was pulled into a large arena, complete with seating and people in the seats. There were two people in the actual fighting ring itself dueling it out -- Earthbending, that is. It looked intense. He was mesmerized.

“Earth Rumble!” Coups exclaimed, pulling him down into a seat near the top. “It’s exactly what it sounds and looks like. There's a reason I invited you. You’re a good bender; not just anyone can move as fast as you did, Branchie.”

“Hyungwon,” he mumbled. “My name is Hyungwon.”

“I know. And I’m Seungcheol,” the mystery man finally said, his gummy smile radiating. “You had a name tag. Anyways, Seungcheol isn’t who I am in the rink. If you decide to do this, you really should get a fake name. I call them stage names.”

Shifting in his seat, Seungcheol gritted his teeth as he watched the people battle. "Y'know," he murmured, nudging Hyungwon's side with his elbow, "I'll be going up soon. You should... watch." Hyungwon could see the other cringe at his own words. "I mean... really watch. Because I think you should sign up for next week."

The words were startling, but as he thought it over, Hyungwon wasn't sure why else he would have been invited to this event. Seungcheol didn't seem like the kind to suddenly beat him into the dust for the hell of it, especially now with the compliments, right?

Giving the stranger a subtle once-over, Hyungwon decided he'd stay cautious.

"Just think about it," Seungcheol murmured, standing from the stands with a pat on his shoulder, "and watch me." With a kind (there was no way he had the ability to hurt a fly) smile, the man turned and maneuvered his way through patrons of the fight, occasionally nodding or waving at someone on his way down. Soon, he was out of sight, and Hyungwon realized the previous fight was over. He didn't know when it ended, or who the winner was, or how badly damaged they were, but he didn't see any kind of medical team, so that was... a positive.

Within a few minutes, a booming voice echoed around the cave, causing an uproar of excitement. Whistling, hollering, yelling -- anything obnoxious possible.

Sitting up straighter, Hyungwon's eyes shifted to the empty ring, butterflies exploding in a burst in his stomach. The small amount of time between then and Seungcheol leaving had given him time to contemplate leaving, only to remember the man knew where his shop was and could easily come in the next morning. There wasn't anything in his bag during their first encounter, but...

"NEXT UP IN THE RING," came the announcer, which could easily be heard despite the white noise surrounding the arena, " WE HAVE TWO RETURNING WINNERS HERE TO BATTLE IT OUT.

"FIRST TO TAKE THE CENTER, WE HAVE A COMPETITOR WHO DOESN'T TAKE 'LOSE' FOR AN ANSWER! A CHAMPION WHO IS KNOWN FOR HIS FAKE OUTS, BEATING RIVALS WITHIN A FEW SECONDS IN THE BEST OF HIS CAREER. IT'S S.COUPS!"

The arena came to life as Seungcheol stepped out, dressed in clean clothes similar, albeit a bit nicer, than his previous outfit. He waved at the crowd with both hands, before turning to the spot Hyungwon was sitting and pointedly smiling. He gave a thumbs up and stepped back, waiting for the announcement of the second fighter.

"BATTLING S.COUPS TONIGHT IS SOMEONE TRULY RECORD BREAKING!

"HER LONGEST WIN STREAK WAS SIXTY-SEVEN, BEFORE BEING BEATEN IN A SPUR OF THE MOMENT ACCIDENTAL MOVE MESS UP! LUCKILY, SHE'S NOT TOO UPSET ABOUT IT; HER NEW STREAK IS UP TO TWO HUNDRED AND FORTY-NINE! WILL THIS BE TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY? WELCOME TO THE RING, SEOLA!"

If Seungcheol's introduction birthed the butterflies in his stomach, this Seola's killed him.

The noise was deafening. He actually couldn't hear anything other than static as a woman, a good few inches shorter than Seungcheol, walked out, feet barefoot and wrapped, in a beautiful, traditionally green, billowing knee-length skirt, and a long, loose brown blouse. How does someone fight in something like that?

Her dark, dark hair was pulled up, bangs covering her forehead, and as she turned around slowly, waving, Hyungwon expected her face to be stone-cold, professional, almost... brutal? But when she faced his section, she was smiling brightly, and it was then that he realized --

He knew who she was.

Kim Hyunjung. Her mother ran a tailoring shop a few stores down, and she worked there, sewing clothing to sell as well as fixing whatever clients brought in. That would explain how she got her extravagant outfit, but... that's about it.

She didn't seem to notice him, and simply made her wave-smile-wave rounds, until she was facing Seungcheol again. They shook hands, friendly, which looked very odd to Hyungwon. They were both friendly people, sure, but this wasn't a friendly sport.

A bell was rung and suddenly, it was all a blur of motion. Hyungwon didn't know what or who to watch, but he knew their conflicting introductions would make it extremely difficult to win on either side. Seungcheol could win within a mere few seconds, and Hyunjung had an over two hundred win streak.

He felt a headache coming on.

-

One thing was for sure: the fight lasted a lot longer than a few seconds. It lasted so long, in fact, that the crowded stopped cheering and screaming and just started watching. The two fighters didn't seem to get tired, but Hyungwon was exhausted just watching them. They both had interesting and intricate techniques that he couldn't dream of even trying , and the both of them had only gotten hit maybe twice.

Hyunjung also had yet rip her skirt.

When two hour mark came up, the two of them were pressed on opposite sides of a rock wall in the middle of the arena, and it seemed like they were whispering to each other. Then, Seungcheol moved his head and looked to the side, raising a hand.

"S.COUPS HAS FORFEITED THE MATCH AFTER TWO HOURS, FOUR MINUTES AND FIVE SECONDS! SEOLA WINS, MAKING HER WIN STREAK A BAFFLING TWO HUNDRED FIFTY!"

Somehow, the announcer's voice was the same as it was at the beginning, and people managed to start yelling in disapproval. Hyungwon's gaze was fixed at the ring, where both Seungcheol and Hyunjung were on the ground, people kneeling down beside them. From his seat, he could see the blood on both of their palms, as well as Hyunjung's feet, despite the fact that they were all wrapped. Two hours of constant fighting.

Hyungwon stood, watching Seungcheol roll over to reveal a large wound on his back. A he waved his hand like it was no big deal, but he could tell the other was having a hard time standing. His eyes shifted to Hyunjung, who was curled up, and he wondered what she'd tell her mother.

He made his way to the exit, keeping his eyes low.

-

It was a week later. Seungcheol hadn't come back, and Hyungwon was both thankful and worried. Considering the fact that the last time he saw the man was bloody and on the floor, he would have appreciated at least a letter.

Hyunjung told her mother she was mugged. Hyungwon was there when the lie was given, and while her voice and words were convincing, she looked guilty. He gave her a look, and when she caught his eye, he didn't look away. The look she gave back was slightly disturbed, and when Hyungwon left, he almost wished he asked about the state of Seungcheol.

He was asked to go back in a week a week ago. After seeing that fight, he didn't really want to, but his common sense told him that was an outlier situation -- there was no way it wasn't. After all, the fight beforehand obviously didn't last that long, and with their histories and how well they matched each other, it was a mess from the start. Hyungwon still didn't know why Seungcheol wanted him to participate in this thing, but his pride grew the more he thought about it.

That was how he found himself in front of the cave entrance once more, earlier this time, in a different, easier-to-move-in-but-still-nice-looking outfit. The man at the front -- the same one from the week before -- looked him up and down as per usual and stepped aside, asking, "Today your big break?"

His feet worked themselves one in front of the other, and he exhaled. "Let's hope it's something," he replied.

-

His name was on the list.

Or, something. He was definitely fighting someone that night, but he would have preferred punching himself in the face instead of a stranger who had been kicking rocks at people for years. He also hadn't practiced his bending in the week leading up The Event because he hadn't actually planned to participate in it, so he was officially unprepared.

Hyungwon didn't look for Seungcheol, but he saw Hyunjung in the stands, looking up at the ceiling as girls he assumed were her friends spoke next to her. He could only hope and pray that Seungcheol was somewhere there, because if he wasn't...

There was no point in doing this. Period.

-

The small tunnel Hyungwon had to stand in off to the side before entering was dark. He could barely see out to the center, and he definitely couldn't see the person standing in the opposite tunnel. His fingernails were digging into his palms, anxiety weighing in his chest to the point of almost making his knees buckle.

His head was spinning. He didn’t look like any of the people here, and he was sure he was going to get pummeled.

Either he was going to win, or he was going to really fucking lose.

“NEXT UP,” were the words roared over the loudspeaker, "WE HAVE SOMEONE WHO CAN'T YET BE GIVEN AN INTRODUCTION, BUT WE'RE HOPING HE CAN MAKE A NAME FOR HIMSELF. WELCOME, NEWCOMER WON!"

(Well, Seungcheol did suggest a stage name.)

He didn’t have much applause, and there was obvious confusion within the crowd as he slowly made his way onto the ring, hands folded behind his back. It hit him when he made it to the middle of the ring, though - there were dozens, maybe over a hundred, eyes on him, staring into him, trying to figure him out, and he...

Liked it.

He liked everyone looking at him, like he was finally something interesting, even if no one really knew what he was. He was new, and could make a name for himself instead of being molded into something because of his family, or his job.

He wasn’t just a tea boy.

“NOW, OF COURSE, WE HOPE NEWCOMER WON'S OPPONENT WON'T BE EASY ON HIM JUST BECAUSE OF HIS NEWBIE STATUS!"

I get it.

"GOING AGAINST OUR NEW FIGHTER IS A REIGNING CHAMPION. HE DOESN'T FIGHT OFTEN, BUT WHEN HE DOES, HE BRINGS US A GOOD FIGHT TO WATCH! HE'S NOT AN EASY WIN, BUT HE IS AN EASY LOSE. LET'S HEAR IT FOR SHOWNU!"

And they did. They definitely heard it for Shownu.

The other man that walked out -- a tall, muscular, obviously proud fighter -- waved at the screaming crowd, a jolly - albeit a bit awkward - smile upon his face. The expression didn’t leave, even as he turned to face Hyungwon, who was stone cold. His expression was mostly out of pure terror, but he could let himself act tough, too.

Hyungwon's mind raced faster than he could dream of keeping up with it. His eyes glanced up into the crowd and he saw Hyunjung at the edge of her seat staring slack-jawed down at him, a look of pure confusion and worry etched into her face. He did a quick once-over for Seungcheol but still didn't see him and oh, God, Seungcheol, if you're not here and I do all of this...

Deep breaths.

Of course, Hyungwon heard the countdown. He heard the crowd roar as his opponent moved forwards and got into his stance, staring at Hyungwon like he was crazy for just… standing there. But as he stood there, the reminder of these eyes on him took over his mind once again, and he pressed his lips together, hard. A new place, a new name, a new him. He couldn't mess it up.

Something in his brain clicked, told him to calm the fuck down , to remember what you're good at because, while Hyungwon didn't bend much, he had a few very select things he could do. And he could do them well.

The bell rang, and within a second, there was a boulder flying straight at him. It was alarming, but his instincts took over; he was dexterous, easily moving out of the way of any move similar to that. Shownu was launching things at him, confusion on his face because Hyungwon still hadn’t bended a thing -- he was just moving . Was this guy even a bender? Did he know what he was doing? The questions building up in their minds were probably killing them.

The moment Hyungwon’s hands moved from behind his back the crowd gasped, finally thinking they’ll see something worthwhile. But it was his feet doing the work; they were moving the ground underneath Shownu’s own backwards, inching him closer to the edge. This was something Hyungwon learned how to do from his grandmother, and he kept it up because he knew it was impressive. He knew he was cool, but he usually didn't even pull it out as a party trick. It tended to, you know. Fuck the ground up a little bit.

They expected him to do something obvious, but he wouldn’t; obvious wasn’t a show-stopper. Obvious didn’t win.

Studying his opponent’s facial expressions like the map he was given a week earlier, Hyungwon pinpointed the exact moment Shownu realized what he was doing and made his move. With hardly any movement, Hyungwon was pushing out pillars from the ground, sending Shownu flying from one, to the other, until he planted one firmly into his chest. He was far enough towards the edge that he couldn’t save himself, and, with a satisfied smile, Hyungwon heard the other’s small grunt as he his the floor.

There was a minute of absolutely nothing. No cheering, speaking, moving. The shock was overwhelming; this guy didn’t move an inch (except, he did, he moved a lot of inches) and beat out one of the strongest players? Who is he?

It only exploded when Hyungwon turned to the crowd and bowed, his heart racing in his chest. Did I just do that? I’m not a fighter. Was that me?

“Yah! Hyungwon!”

Turning, the man saw Seungcheol waving excitedly, giving him two big thumbs up. “See? You did it. I don’t know what you did, but you did it!”

"Seungcheol," he replied, in shock, watching the man lean over the edge to listen to him. "Where were you this entire time? I thought I was fighting for no one."

Scoffing, the other gestured to the audience, who had started to whisper and speak quietly about the new fighter. "Whaddya mean? You fought for them!"

Exhaling, slowly, Hyungwon made his way out of the ring and towards his new acquaintance, hands running through his hair. His gaze turned to where Hyunjung was once he was out, only to see her grinning at him, the confusion still obvious on her face. She waved, and he waved back, and he wasn't sure what to think.

"You know Seola?" Seungcheol questioned, thrusting a cup of water into Hyungwon's grasp.

"Yeah," he murmured, now looking back into the ring to see Shownu, his opponent, looking at him. Once they made eye contact, the man nodded professionally at him and turned away, making Hyungwon's stomach churn a little. What did I just do?

"Ah, let's get you out of here," he heard Seungcheol say, tugging him towards the exit, out of the once again noisy arena. "You don't seem too... great."

His head ached to the point of nausea. Dust clouded his vision and it was all he could taste. The heels of his feet were throbbing and likely bleeding through his shoes, and he didn’t know how to explain any of this to his father.

So maybe he just wouldn't.

Maybe, at this point, it was better to let himself bathe in the light of glory and not worry about the consequences awaiting him when he returned to his monotone life.

Maybe, he finally found something he could breathe in without having to exhale.

Chapter Text

The people of the Fire Nation could be tough cookies; Jooheon learned this the hard way.

Apparently, elders didn’t appreciate their junior pretending to throw fireballs at them (and sometimes actually throwing fireballs at them by mistake), and bending teachers were not too fond of a student who accidentally almost burnt down the school building. Chaos was supposed to be a word of the Fire Nation, but only if it was controlled - an oxymoron, of sorts. The only chaos allowed was when it was being executed by professionals.

He was a good bender. Jooheon knew this because he was very aware that he was able to do things most people his age couldn’t. For example, when he was a mere five years old, he had been juggling small fireballs; meanwhile, other young benders could almost get the bending to work, but not quite. 

(Of course, the fact that he burned himself multiple times wasn’t important. You have to hurt to learn, after all.)

Despite being well above the level of his peers, he was too clumsy to get the positive attention of any teachers or people above him. His attempts at being steady only lead to him falling behind -- and, of course, this caused him to be scolded for not, “ being up to par .”

Jooheon was kicked out of school after the Incident (he didn’t mean to set a teacher’s hair on fire, but apparently that was the last straw after the Almost Burning The School Down incident), which promptly evaporated the little respect his elders had for him. They weren’t able to look past his mistakes and had the habit of scoffing at him if they saw him around town. 

The Nation was a tough place to call home. 

Still, never once did he consider leaving; it was his home, after all, and his family was there to give him support when he needed it. If they shunned him, he wouldn’t know what to do.

While they didn’t, the entirety of North Chung-Ling did. This made it nearly impossible to find a job other than a caretaker for Tigerdillos and a Mongoose Lizard and, while he found the job (slightly?) interesting, he wasn’t qualified physically nor mentally to take on the roles (besides, he was sure the owners of the creatures also disliked him, meaning he could easily be fed to any of them at any time if he were to mess up). 

The lack of anything reasonable to do to earn money made him turn to street performance. Considering his bending was unconventional, unique and (he would consider it) fun, Jooheon figured he would easily be able to pull in some spare change at least through this work.

Unsurprisingly, he couldn’t.

Even if anyone wanted to stop and watch him, none of the buildings he tried to perform in front of would let him stay. In fact, the only place he could perform at without being shooed off was in front of his house, and it didn’t get much traffic.

This didn’t only hurt his wallet, but his confidence as well. It wasn’t as if his town got many tourists and visitors, and the residents already had their minds set on pushing him away as far as possible.

He would be unbothered by this if he didn’t have to be an extra plate of food on the table, but he wasn’t able to contribute at all to any household expenses. To make matters unbearable for him, his reputation was hurting his family, as well. He had a brother who was still in school, and the teachers and students didn’t give him the help he needed, thinking he would end up, “Just like his brother.”

Jooheon’s parents also had to deal with the consequences of his son’s upbringing; when he was kicked out of school they were both fired, and have since had to take on less-than-likeable jobs and opportunities to provide for them and their children. Being the wonderful parents and people they were, they didn’t tell him to get lost or find another place to live (although Jooheon could see their frustration and exhaustion when they believed he wasn’t looking), however, which put an added burden on his shoulders knowing they cared so much. He should have been better, for them.

For those reasons, Jooheon decided he would leave his home city and move to the Fire Nation Capital, where he would be able to get a fresh start for himself; no one knew his past, his troubles, or him at all, and that was exactly what he needed.

It was a second chance for him, and a lifted burden for his family.

Of course, he didn’t leave without warning. He couldn’t imagine his mother waking up one day to find that he was gone; she would surely panic, and his household would become a mess. Knowing this, he sat his family down and spoke with them, explaining his plan and his reasoning. Truthfully, he had been saving up any extra earnings that didn’t go towards food or other necessities so he could leave without borrowing money. This had been planned for a while, and he stated he wouldn’t be talked out of it. 

Unsurprisingly, there were complaints from his family, mainly his brother. He told Jooheon he didn’t want to grow up without him, but Jooheon insisted it would be easier and that he would write often and visit when he was able to. No amount of convincing would get him to throw out his plan, and, after a long while of conversation, the three of them finally dropped it and said okay. He could tell they were conflicted or hurt, even, and for that he felt bad; it wasn’t his intention to abandon them, but he wanted to do something for himself (and for them, but he didn’t mention that).

It took a few days for Jooheon to get things packed and gather up his savings, but once everything was figured out he didn’t wait another hour. His plan was to leave at night, so no one would catch and question him about what he was doing, and he would be able to leave to the Capital unknown and in peace.

So he began his journey. After a tearful goodbye, his family waved him off, and he began to make his way, on foot, to his destination.

-

It took, in total, two weeks to get where he needed to be. Three boats, multiple campouts in seemingly the middle of nowhere, and a few wagon rides later and he was walking through the gates of the Fire Nation Capital.

There wasn’t time to be overwhelmed, as he had to find a place to stay for the night before the sun set. He was exhausted, as was to be expected, and needed to lay down in an actual bed for a while as opposed to a few old blankets on the smoothest surface he could find, or a boat floor. Climbing under the covers of his bed at home seemed ideal, but he wasn’t going to make the journey back just to do that.

It surprised him how easily he got a room in an inn, and the fact that the innkeeper was being kind to him was a foreign concept; if he tried to, for whatever reason, rent a room in Fire Fountain, he would be laughed at and shooed away, and while he knew these people didn’t know who he was or what he had done in the past he couldn’t help but expect hostility. It was routine. 

Jooheon could have easily slept for three days, but when he woke up in the morning he knew he had to start working immediately. He was low on funds and, while the keeper was kind enough to make a deal with him because he had traveled for so long, he knew he would need to stay more days at the inn than he had initially paid for. Along with that, he would need to get food and preferably new clothes, so he didn’t have time to waste on sleeping in. 

Dressed in the outfit he saved and didn’t wear during the trip, Jooheon made his way into the central area of the city, where people would have to pass by him in order to get to market stalls or shops. He got there before the sun rose around 5am, to begin as early as possible. With his blond hair tied back and a small can sitting beside him, Jooheon began to do what he did best:

Perform.

At first, he grabbed some eyes here and there from the few people that were awake, and managed to get his first tip about three hours in. He stopped his performance to bow deeply at the person who donated, and she seemed impressed not only by his talent but by his manners. 

He didn’t expect anything other than that. In fact, that tip alone exceeded his expectations completely; Jooheon didn’t think he’d get any tips the first few days, but by noon, when the sun was shining hot above him and his tricks were most powerful, he managed to garner a small crowd. 

It was nerve wracking; no, it was terrifying. His strategy was to not pay attention to the crowd and instead focus strictly on his bending. He had such an audience and earned so many tips he was no longer able to bow to each donation. Still, Jooheon would call out a, “Thank you, thank you!” in the most earnest and polite way he could muster while keeping his mind on his fire.

His literal fire.

To a non-bender, it was terrifying, surely. Watchers would duck away if he got within even a few feet, but he knew he wouldn’t hit anyone. Despite his bad reputation, Jooheon wasn’t aiming to burn anyone or anything and took great care in not letting the tricks get out of hand.

And that, he did. Even as he tossed the small balls of flames into the air, juggled them behind his back and under his leg, he had it under control. When he did the trick that made it look like he was breathing fire, the children squealed in delight, but it was carefully bended as to not explode into an unmanageable size. 

The audience was most impressed when he did his more elegant, careful tricks; they gasped when his hand raised above his head, drawing flames in an arch above his head, making it prickle and burst before completely disappearing in an instant; they hummed in happiness as he moved the fire around his body, making it look like a snake wrapping around him, his face glowing from the light; and they outwardly cheered at his performance when he turned a streak of flame into a dragon, making it fly above him and then the audience, before dipping back down to wrap around his arm (loosely, of course, though it did at one point get a bit too close). He drew the eyes of every person in the area, and all of the positive attention had him emotional.

By the end of the day, his small can was overflowing to the point where he had to lift his shirt up and carry all of the money in the pouch it made. He would be able to eat and get a few new pairs of clothes, as well as pay the innkeeper for more days in his room. Joy could not even begin to describe what he was feeling, and he couldn’t wait to write a letter to his family about how successful his first day in the Capital had been.

Jooheon had been so focused on not letting any of his money drop, he didn’t realize someone was walking the opposite direction, and their shoulders just barely collided. Instantly, he looked up and spun around to the person he bumped into, carefully bowing with, “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

To his surprise, the voice that belonged to the other answered him with a strict, “Next time, be aware of your surroundings.”

Jooheon stood up fully to be met with a sharp gaze that was alarming, but not necessarily scary. It was owned by a man just a few inches shorter than him, maybe less, with deep red hair that matched the eloquent outfit he was wearing; an almost extravagant shirt with long, loose sleeves, and pants that were also almost billowing. He looked… well, important, but Jooheon wasn’t sure what that exactly entailed.

“R… right. Will do,” he responded, voice a mumble, and the man was about to turn away before momentarily stopping to look at him. 

Confused, Jooheon’s gaze followed the other’s, and realized it was resting on a burn on his arm. Oh, he thought to himself, chewing on his top lip, I should probably take care of that.

While Jooheon practiced his routine and unique tricks almost day in and day out, they were not only dangerous, but injury was often hard to avoid. It didn’t really bother him anymore, and he learned to deal with it and not show more than a wince if it happened while he was performing; after all, he thought, showing that he had hurt himself during his show was exposing a weakness and even, perhaps, a flaw.

He could see why this man was… surprised, though. Jooheon was not only obviously not from the city because of his clothes, but he also had a burn on his arm and was carrying a large amount of coins in his shirt. He understood how sketchy he looked.  

“Be more careful, too,” the man scolded, voice still as harsh, but with an almost soft edge to it. “You can do your tricks without burning yourself, you know.”

With that, he turned and began to continue on his way. This left Jooheon with a headache, and he didn’t know how to react to the confrontation. Did that mean he had seen Jooheon’s performance, or was it a guess based on experience? Why was he seemingly so angry, or was that just because of the circumstance?

In an almost panic, Jooheon called out, “What’s your name?” and, after a small pause, said, “I’m Lee Jooheon.”

Without stopping, the man turned his head to respond. "Kihyun. Yoo Kihyun. Don’t be so clumsy.” 

Jooheon didn’t know if should be offended, or awestruck. He settled for both.

-

A few months in, and Jooheon was living well. The first day was the day he had made his most tips to date, but he still received donations every time he got out and performed. He was more careful, though some injuries still couldn’t be helped. He opted to wrap his arms and hands up before doing any bending, just as a precaution.

He was still staying in the inn, because by the time he figured he could leave he was adjusted to the routine, and the innkeeper said he liked having him around. Jooheon was able to pay him at the beginning of every month, and the keeper gave him a generous discount because he was, well, living there.  

Shows went great, and whenever he could impress someone new, or even an old watcher with a new trick, it made him inspired to do more. Even as things went on, Jooheon kept his manners, always saying “thank you” after being given a coin or two. His small bucket had been upgraded to a basket the innkeeper gave to him, and sat nicely next to where he performed.

There were no real problems, no real tribulations; if he had a problem it was because he had been too careless and managed to give himself a small burn. Other than that, however, he was happy, something he wasn’t ever sure he was capable of being.

Jooheon didn’t work every day anymore. His shows could take so much out of him that some days he just had to stay in bed. It didn’t take too much time of resting to get him back out at his spot, though, and after two days of relaxation and refreshing he was performing once again. 

The show was going well. His confidence was high, as was his mood, and the decent crowd he had gathered was loving every second it. He was walking around, moving with the dragon he had crafted with his flames, only paying attention to his bending.

The pure concentration on the fire was his downfall. Literally.

Jooheon tripped over himself as he was sidestepping, falling onto the ground on his back with a loud grunt. The crowd gasped and they yelled, but it was mostly because his flames actually dropped and landed on the right side of his neck and just under his jaw. It was the most painful thing he had ever experienced, and he couldn’t believe he was clumsy enough to do something like this.

It took everything in his power, all of his strength, to not scream in agony. He gritted his teeth as hard as he could, grinding them, eyes squeezed shut as he tried to sit up -- to no avail. The shock had him frozen, shaking, and he heard someone in the crowd yell for help but his ears were ringing so loudly he couldn’t make out the exact words. The pain was so excruciating, he was sure he was going to pass out. He couldn’t even think.

Right before he felt himself begin to drift, someone pulled him up by his wrists, draping one of his arms  over their shoulder. He heard his basket be grabbed and could only let out a noise of disapproval before the person carrying him said, “I told you to be careful, you moron.”

Even in his groggy state, Jooheon recognized the voice. It was a voice that… was kind of unforgettable, really. It had a specific lilt, and a lisp that was easy to identify.

Jooheon hadn’t seen Yoo Kihyun since their “fateful” encounter on the street all those months ago, and hearing him speak was surprising. Almost scary.

“Don’t make me just drag you along. Use your feet. You can walk, you didn’t burn your legs off.”

He couldn’t see, as everything was red in his vision, but he tried his best to follow instructions and tripped along the path to wherever Kihyun was taking him. Hopefully to his grave.

“Let me die,” Jooheon almost whined, and that made Kihyun exhale in exasperation. He didn’t know why; he wasn’t joking.

“Don’t be dramatic. You’ll be fine. You’re going to have to live with some scars and a completely shattered ego, but you’ll be fine.” Kihyun’s voice was, once again, harsh, but there was a distinct soft tint to it. It couldn’t be described in words.

The whole “walk,” Jooheon was stumbling and complaining, and, eventually, Kihyun stopped replying and just let him ramble on about the pain and death and how he, “really messed that up.”

For a part of the journey, Jooheon had essentially passed out, but was still working at moving his feet because he really didn’t want to be scolded again. He wasn’t at all aware of his surroundings, so when he heard a screen door open and then close, it didn’t register as anything except a noise.

When he managed to peel his eyes back open, Kihyun was laying him down on a mat, pulling out a wooden box and eventually sitting down by the right side of Jooheon’s face. 

"You 'really messed it up,' yeah,” Kihyun murmured, and Jooheon was trying to follow him and his movements but all he knew was Kihyun opened the box and was then dabbing something on his burns and oh boy did he scream.

“What -- are you -- doing?” Jooheon cried out, now alert and ready to punch this guy if he needed to (he wouldn’t do it, though, he knew he wouldn’t). “What’s going on? Where are my tips? I was given that basket as a gift and I was working out there, that money pays for my life--”

“Quit whining, I got your money,” Kihyun said, calmly, focused on keeping Jooheon’s head down so he could work on cleaning the wound. “I’m trying to help you. The pain would be a lot worse if you left this untreated for even a few hours.”

Eventually, Jooheon calmed his breathing, and opted to hold onto the sheets underneath him for dear life. Kihyun seemed to notice how hard he was grinding his teeth, so for a moment he disappeared and came back to shove a stick into Jooheon’s mouth. It was appreciated, but uncalled for, really.

Jooheon had lost all sense of time, so he really wasn’t sure how long he had been laying down, Kihyun taking care of his wound. He was pretty sure he was unconscious for a lot of it, and when he opened his eyes at one point, he could see through a window that the sky was pink; he had been there all afternoon, and now the sun was setting.

The pain was still there, absolutely. Jooheon wasn’t sure he’d be able to stand it, but he realized there was a frozen pack on the floor next to him. It must have been set on his jaw and neck (over the bandages he had discovered were there) and Jooheon must had moved, so it fell off.

With a groan, Jooheon opted to sit up, looking around the room (slowly and carefully, turning his whole body because it hurt too much to move just his neck) to search for any sign of the man that had brought him there. To his confusion and dismay, Kihyun was nowhere in sight, and he found himself irritated at the idea of being dumped off somewhere with no idea of how to get home.

There was a note, however, peeking out from underneath the (now thawed) frozen pack. When he moved to grab it, it was damp from the ice that had melted, but still readable.

“Jooheon,

I’ve got some things to do. I’ll be back in the morning. There’s food on the table for you, so clean up after yourself when you’re finished.

If you leave, I’ll find you at your next show and you’ll be sorry.

Kihyun”

For some reason, Jooheon didn’t feel all that threatened by Kihyun, and he considered his theoretical options momentarily before seeing the food Kihyun had made for him sitting on the table in the next room.

He could stay for a little while, he decided.