Description: Minsheng never expected to heal because they never accepted they needed it. However, people of the Southern Water Tribe were stubborn and caring. They were determined to help them heal, whether they liked it or not. They were fire, the Water Tribe was ice. This ice refused to melt.
Warnings: None
Tag List: @spacesephora @littlespoonsokka
They knew that their actions would have consequences but they were not afraid. They would not tremble nor would they falter when the time for their punishment came. They had been bruised, cut, and burned before. There were few physical things left that scared them so they boarded the ship filled with the few survivors from the Northern Siege and they did not look back.
They did not regret their actions. They had done what was right even if they hadn’t succeeded, even if a princess still left the world far too young, while having lived far too little. Still, she looked as beautiful in her new form as she had in her original.
She was shining when it happened. She was shining so brightly when the survivors decided to take their punishment into their own hands. The soldiers had come up behind them, thinking they didn’t notice. They had grabbed them, thrown their cane to the side. It was fine, they didn’t need it but really they did.
The oldest of them grabbed their neck and they felt warmth. They refused to flinch. Another grabbed their wrists and they felt searing. They didn’t wince. They didn’t say a word as they dragged them to the edge where they could see waves hitting the ship.
“For your own sake, let’s hope you don’t know how to swim,” they did.
They felt fire before they were thrown overboard. They were in freezing waters with ruthless waves and miles away from land or any other ships. They were stranded. They looked to the moon who held a new name and they asked for mercy they felt they didn’t deserve. She granted it to them.
Healing hands. They knew when hands were healing even when they weren’t awake. They knew the feeling of hands that meant no harm. Every time they had called them his “healing hands.” It was nice to feel them again but they couldn’t remember being hurt. Had they gotten sick? It didn’t matter. Healing hands were good. Healing hands were safe.
Healing hands meant, “Lu Ten?” Their worlds were all blurring together as were their words. “Sick or pain?” they asked, he would understand. He had always been good at understanding.
“I believe it was a combination of both,” a voice said but it was wrong. It wasn’t him.
Of course it wasn’t him. He had been gone for years. They knew that. Stupid.
It didn’t stop it from hurting. The scar ran deep, deeper than any other scar they had ever had. It was a scar that would never heal. Then again, scars never healed without leaving a trace.
They didn’t know when they fell unconscious once more but they did so with sorrow.
“Will they make it?” Hakoda asked, watching the healer work.
Kassuq sighed as he worked on wrapping their burns. “Honestly?” he questioned, looking over their form. “I don’t know.”
They were too pale, their breath a little too shallow, and their pulse slowing with every second. They had been pulled out of the water, half conscious and not even shivering but ice cold to the touch. Not long after being pulled aboard their eyes closed but not before Hakoda saw the yellow color that their eyes were.
It was idiotic, he was well aware, to use their resources on someone from the Fire Nation. However, when he looked at them he saw nothing more than a child. Then their clothes came off, drenched in water, and a large jacket was put on them that went down to their knees before they were placed under blankets. He had to look away. Kassuq even winced. There were scars and burns, more than there were on any of his men. Kassuq looked at them and said they were all years old except for the near identical burns on their wrists and the one on their neck as well as small cuts and bruises on their face.
A child had gone through so much, it was clear. Hakoda couldn’t stomach it to add more pain. No, he did not tell his men this child was from the Fire Nation. He would see what they had to say first.
“Send someone to get me if they wake up,” Hakoda said and Kassuq nodded.
“I can do that if you’ll send someone in here willing to help warm them,” he told him.
Hakoda closed the door on his way out and thought for a moment. He’d need someone who still saw good, someone who didn’t hold pure and unchecked hatred for the Fire Nation because once they woke up, those yellow eyes would be hard to not notice. He walked up to the deck and looked for the youngest member of his crew.
“You need me,” the person, Minsheng, said with such confidence, never looking away from Hakoda’s eyes.
Hakoda sat on the bed in front of them. “Why?” he asked, curious as to their reasons.
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed the very few—“ Massak went to put his arm around their shoulders as they struggled to conceal their shaking. Without even looking in his direction they grabbed one of his fingers, face scrunching up in pain for a moment, and bent it back until he ceased his actions—“footsteps above. You’re low on men. I couldn’t possibly wonder what that could mean.” They rolled their eyes and then continued to stare at his shoulders instead. “Have some of your men been taken prisoner by the Fire Nation, Chief Hakoda?”
The kid was smart. This could either be trouble or it could be beneficial. “Yes, some have. How can you help us with that?”
They smiled but it seemed to be forced, not even close to a real one. It was gone in an instant. “My father is the warden for a very secure prison. Naturally he wanted his children to do the same because of this, I know the layout for every single prison. I can draw it for you right now. I can tell you where the guards are places and I can tell you exactly how to get into and leave every single one with little to no sign of you even being there.”
“And how do we know we can trust you?” Bato asked, standing in front of the door.
They glanced his way, looked at him for a moment in a way that made it seem as though they were studying him, looking for what was the right thing to say. When they finally looked him in the eyes, they spoke, “You don’t, not yet. However, let me ask you this. Do you really think that I just happened to fall overboard with three new burns?”
This time it was Bato searching for the words to say. “What would get you thrown overboard?” he finally settled on.
“I’m sure you remember the night the moon turned red,” Hakoda nodded. They smiled, so clearly fake, so clearly meant to be sweet. “Well, that was the day the Fire Nation attacked the North Pole, that was the night Tui died, that was the night I betrayed the Fire Nation for what was right, and that was the night the moon was named Yue.”
This kid, no older than, if not as old, as Hakoda’s own son would now be, was off fighting in the war as a soldier. It set something off, it felt wrong. “How old are you?”
Their gaze went from Bato to Hakoda and back to Bato, trailing down his form until it landed on his burned arm. They looked distant. “That’s irrelevant. Do you want my help or not?”
Iroh and Minsheng had many differences. It would be an understatement to say that they had their fair share of arguments. However, this was one thing they could agree upon. Spirits were not things to meddle with. They were not things to be destroyed.
However, it was too late. They were too late. Minsheng had held off people from stopping them, stopping Iroh, as much as they could. They fought the Water Tribe and Fire Nation. They had trusted Iroh to stop what was happening. It was foolish of them, to trust him of all people to do something. He relayed in violence last, he didn’t do anything until the moon had already been killed.
They ran into the Spirit Oasis and the world was grey, except for the eyes of Princess Yue. The tattoos and eyes of Avatar Aang glowed as he stepped into the water where La took hold of him. The water turned blue, the same color as the princess’s eyes
They could do nothing but watch as the princess gave up her life to be the spirit the word needed. They could do nothing but watch as the boy who promised to protect her grabbed her hand and begged her to stay. They could do nothing but watch as he held her lifeless body even as it drifted away but nothingness. They could do nothing but turn away to allow the pair privacy as they said their final goodbyes. It all reminded them of a different time in a much different place when they could do nothing but watch.
When the night came to its end, they were met with a past memory. For the first time in years, they let themself linger for their gaze on the scar that was left on his face, let their hand trace their own.
They looked at his new bruises and scrapes and sighed. They wrapped their arms around him and pressed a bracelet in his hand. He looked down at it and then up at them with confusion.
“Give it back to me when you see me again,” they didn’t believe he would.
“You’re not coming?” it pained them not to but there was only room for two on the small piece of wood.
