- Joined
- Apr 3, 2009
- Messages
- 21,209
- Reaction score
- 2,402
I wrote this story a while ago, but never posted it here. It's based on The Legend of Korra, and focuses on the characters of Mako and Bolin five years before the start of the series. Mako is 13 years old at this time, while Bolin is 11.
The worst season in Republic City was winter.
In summer, the rains came, but it was easy to hide from those. Republic City had no shortage of bridges and overhangs to wait beneath, and after the storms had passed, the city emerged in force to sample the bountiful harvest of the markets and take part in the summer’s festivals with their bellies full and their purses fat. They were rich and easy marks, the best kind.
The rain and the heat could give you a fever, and that could be nasty, but medicine was easy to steal once you knew how, so a fever would never kill you. Not like the chill of winter. There was no medicine for that.
In winter, the snows fell thick and long, and it was not rare for them to continue long into the night. No one came outside except children to play in the newfallen snow, the markets were empty, and the festivals were few and far between. The marks that did pass by would not relinquish their coin so easily.
The bridges and underpasses were little defense against the blizzards. The snow clung to skin and clothes, soaking through fabric and making everything damp and cold, a cold that refused to go away. Rain in summer could often be a welcome respite from heat. Snow in winter was always a fearful prospect.
Mako and Bolin’s first winter on the streets of Republic City had nearly seen them starve. The young urchins would have died had they not been taken under the wing of Peachy, the self-styled Beggar King. Peachy had taught Mako and Bolin the art of the grift and con, and shown them how to adapt their begging methods to the mark.
Mako wondered where Peachy was now. He hadn’t seen or heard from the Beggar King since the affair with Mahk the Dagger two years prior. The thought was pushed away as quickly as it came. On the streets, few thoughts could be spared beyond survival.
“Mako?” Bolin called from over near the fire. Mako’s younger brother had wrapped himself in the hessian “blanket” which he and Mako shared between themselves. A patch of his hair was missing, a souvenir from a tussle with a feral cat.
This crumbling factory had been Mako and Bolin’s home for the past year. No place in the factory was comfortable, and at night the cold winds blew through the shattered windows and made them shiver, but the snow never got inside, and that was what mattered.
“Mako?” Bolin repeated. “Can I play in the snow? I heard some kids playing outside. They sounded like they were having fun.”
Mako ground his teeth, but adopted a kind smile for his brother’s sake.
“Sorry, Bo,” he said. “If we had more firewood, maybe, but that’s the last we have. You’d have no way to warm up and get dry.”
“But-”
“Bolin, listen to me.” Mako walked over to his brother and put his hand on his shoulder. “You know how dangerous the snow can be if the cold and wet stay on you. Remember the first winter, before Peachy found us?”
Bolin frowned and hung his head. “Yeah,” he admitted. “But-”
“No buts,” Mako interrupted, his smile fading. “Now that mom and dad are gone it’s my responsibility to keep you safe. If anything happened to you… I couldn’t bear it.”
Bolin nodded. “I know,” he said. “Sorry, Mako.”
Mako gave his brother a hug. The hessian scratched against his skin uncomfortably, but Mako ignored it.
The snow stopped after two more hours, by which time Bolin had fallen fast asleep. Mako allowed himself a small grin at his brother’s snoring before making his way to a pile of rubble on the far wall, taking care not to wake Bolin. The fire was a dying pile of embers by now, a thin wisp of smoke rising from the ashes.
Mako carefully shifted the rubble until he came upon an old, beat-up, green metal box. This box was Mako and Bolin’s life support in the winter. Any extra money earned by hustling throughout the year went into the “cash stash,” as Bolin called it. It was another thing Peachy had taught them - another thing they owed him.
Mako pulled five yuans out of the box. It would be enough for a bit of food and some dry firewood. Mako had tried to collect his own wood after the rain or snow before - it never burned, and the smoke was unbearable. He’d learned then that good, dry firewood was an expense well worth the price.
Mako stuffed the yuans into his pocket, replaced the rubble, and snuck away from the fireside towards the exit. The heavy metal doors of the factory shut with a loud metallic clang behind him, but Mako was sure it wouldn’t wake his brother. As careful as Mako often was around him when he rested, Bolin was capable of sleeping through just about anything. It was something that had caused the brothers trouble more than once.
As Mako made his way to the market, he found his gaze caught by the enormous statue of Avatar Aang that stood stoically in the bay. Everyone said that the statue was a promise of safety and protection for the people of the city, but Mako had lived on the streets long enough to know that it was an empty promise at best, and a cruel lie at worst.
Bolin still bought into the promise, though he had learned better than to tell Mako about it out loud.
“Don’t worry, Mako,” Bolin had assured him time and time again for the first few months that they had spent on the streets. “The Avatar will help us, you’ll see. The Avatar will come and make sure that we won’t have to live on the streets anymore.”
Eventually, Mako couldn’t take it anymore. “The old Avatar is dead!” he had snapped. “And the new Avatar is just a kid like us, growing up somewhere in the Water Tribe. We’ll probably never even see them except in a newspaper.”
Bolin hadn’t said anything about the Avatar after that. Not to Mako, at least. But Mako still heard him at night when Bolin thought he was asleep, whispering to the Avatar to help them. It always made Mako sigh and shake his head, but he never said anything.
Mako turned away from the statue. If he kept dawdling, the market was like to close before he even arrived.
As it happened, the market was indeed nearly empty by the time Mako reached it, the sun beginning its retreat beyond the horizon. Only four stands remained open, but luckily those stands offered what he needed.
From Goh, a wizened butcher with a thick grey beard and pockmarked skin, Mako received a few strips of dried and salted meat in exchange for two yuans. Goh refused to tell Mako what sort of meat it was. “Be grateful I’m givin’ you any, street rat,” the butcher grunted. “S’only my husband says I oughtta be more nice to the less fortunate. Now get yourself clear ‘fore I change my mind.”
Mako slinked away, and approached the woodcutter’s stand. The woodcutter was named Hira, a young but stern man with a hawkish nose and thin lips. There was a dark, sunken hole in Hira’s face where one of his eyes ought to have been. The woodcutter was frequently heard to boast that he had lost his eye in a fight with a platypus-bear, but Mako and Bolin had learned the truth overheard from Hira’s father. The eye had actually been lost to an infection that the family had been too poor to treat. Even without knowing the truth, it was easy to see through the lie, since the missing eye was the only scar the supposed platypus-bear had left.
Hira shoved three tiny logs into Mako’s arms and demanded three yuans as payment. Mako grumbled but paid the price. Hira was a waterbender, and found it amusing to freeze anyone who complained about his prices in a block of ice. In winter, that could be a death sentence.
Mako was left with three thin strips of meat and three twigs with which to keep a fire going, but at least he had something. If it hadn’t been for the cash box, he would have nothing at all. Mako silently thanked Peachy as he left the market.
A short, sharp whistle caught his attention, and Mako cocked his head to the side to see a figure waiting for him leaned against the side of the market gate. It was not a face Mako had wanted to see, and he grimaced.
Shady Shin laughed as he noted Mako’s expression. “Now, is that any way to greet an old pal?” the gangster chuckle as he swaggered over to Mako.
“We ain’t pals, Shady Shin,” Mako said curtly. “Whatever you’re selling, I don’t want none of it.”
Shady Shin sighed and shook his head. “Be reasonable, Mako,” he said. “You and your brother can’t survive Republic City on your own forever. Sooner or later, you’re gonna need a fraternity. You’re gonna need the triads.”
“I’ll tell you where you can stick your spirits-damned triads!” Mako spat. The curse felt hollow in his mouth, and Shady Shin knew it.
“My, my, what a foul mouth you got on ya!” the waterbender said, throwing his head back and laughing. “I’d ask if you kiss your mother with that mouth, but- y’know.”
That made Mako angry. He slashed his arm in Shin’s direction, producing a burst of flame that left the gangster stumbling backwards into the melting snow. Mako glared at him for a moment before beginning on his way.
“Dammit, Mako, listen to me!” Shady Shin called to Mako, fumbling back onto his feet. “You and Bolin are the best hustlers on the street that ain’t part of a group! Sooner or later, the other triads are gonna be coming to call, and if they can’t recruit you, they’re gonna do their best to make sure no one else can!”
“Let them come,” Mako called back. “Me and Bolin will be fine as long as we have-”
“Your cash box, right,” Shady Shin finished, crossing his arms.
Mako stopped in his tracks. He turned back to face Shady Shin. “I never told you about the cash box,” he said. “How do you…”
Shady Shin grit his teeth and ground them softly. “This is why you need us, Mako!” he snapped. “You’re naive! Everyone knows you and Bolin were Peachy’s boys, and everyone knows that Peachy’s boys keep cash boxes in the winter! Now, if you wanted to recruit a couple kids and the only thing keeping them from having to turn to a triad was a measly little cash box… where do you think you’d strike first?”
Anger snatched Mako’s mind away from reason once more. “If you wanna threaten me and my brother, come out and say it to my face!” Mako shouted.
“I ain’t threatenin’ nothing!” Shady Shin protested.
Baby flames danced around Mako’s hands, pleading for him to make them grow. “What are the Triple Threats planning to do, Shin?” Mako demanded.
“We ain’t plannin’ on doin’ nothing,” Shin insisted. “We still want you to make the smart play and come to us willingly. But I can’t say the same for, say… the Agni Kais.”
The fires died and Mako’s eyes widened in fear. All around him, the world seemed to slow as Shady Shin’s words sunk in. “What are you saying?” he breathed.
“I’m saying,” Shady Shin replied, with the faintest trace of a smirk crossing his lips, “that if I was you I’d hurry on back to that little factory of yours. I hear it’s gonna be surprisingly warm over there before long.”
Time stopped, and it was hard to say exactly what happened next. As he ran, Mako noted sluggishly that he no longer held the wood or the meat. It was in his pocket, he thought. Or maybe he’d dropped it on the ground. Avatar Aang watched him as he ran, sneering from atop his hill.
“It’s no use,” Aang said, or maybe that was just a voice in Mako’s head. “Everything will always fall apart. You’ll never be more than this. Just lie down and let the snow bury you. It won’t hurt. You’ll even feel warm by the end. Just lie down and give up. The cash is gone, Bolin is gone, and you’ll never get through winter without either of them. What’s the point in running when everything’s gone and no one cares?”
“Shut up, Aang!” Mako screamed. In the street, Aang was laughing at him, and there was Shady Shin too, and Mahk the Dagger and the man who killed his parents. They were all laughing and jeering and telling him to give up.
He heard someone whispering under his breath for the Avatar to come and help them, and he wondered how Bolin had gotten there before realizing the voice was his own.
Finally, the factory was upon him. Or else it was an enormous pillar of fire in the shape of the factory.
Flames leapt from every window and every crack in the wall. There was creaking and groaning and crashing everywhere as the fire greedily gobbled the building up. All Mako could think of was the cash box - all those yuans, hard-earned and carefully-saved - he thought he could see them in the embers rising from the blaze, his only hope making its escape into the sky.
He found Bolin hidden, shivering, behind a pile of tires on the other side of the yard. The hessain was still wrapped around his shoulders, a fresh red bruise on the side of his head.
“I’m sorry!” Bolin wailed when he noticed his brother approaching. The hessian slipped from Bolin’s shoulders and all of a sudden his arms were around Mako, squeezing as tightly as they could. Tears streamed from Bolin’s eyes and snot from his nose, both soaking Mako’s shoulder in equal measure as his little brother pressed his head to it.
“Th-there were so many of them!” Bolin sobbed. “I w-wanted to f-fight them but there were so many of them a-and I barely got away and hid but I m-messed up and one of them hit me before I g-got away but I hid behind the tires and they didn’t ch-check!”
“Who were they?” Mako asked urgently. “What did they look like?”
“Th-they were all dressed in r-red,” Bolin said. “They s-smelled like s-smoke.”
“The Agni Kais,” Mako cursed under his breath. “Shady Shin knew all along.”
“Th-they set fire to the f-factory as s-soon as they gave up l-looking for me. W-why would they d-do that?” Bolin’s teeth were chattering.
Mako turned his head to gaze at the inferno. “The cash box,” he said. “They wanted to get rid of the cash box.”
With a final, deafening groan, the factory breathed its last and the structure collapsed in on itself. Within minutes, the factory was a pile of rubble, a few last defiant flames flicking in and out of the cracks.
“And it worked,” Mako said, his lip twitching. The tears came unbidden, and for once Mako could do nothing to stop them. With one arm he clutched his brother, and with the other he tightly gripped the red scarf he wore.
“Wh-what are we going to do?” Bolin whimpered.
Mako clenched his jaw. Bolin was scared. That meant he couldn’t be. He had to be strong. He had to be decisive.
“Don’t worry,” he told Bolin, saying the words that he himself did not believe. “It’s going to be okay.”
“How?” Bolin asked, looking up at his brother with eyes puffy and red from crying.
“I think I know a way to get us some work,” Mako said. Every word he spoke felt like a knife in the back of his parents. “It’ll be alright. We just need to be brave for a little while. Can you be brave for me, Bo?”
Bolin adopted his most serious expression and nodded. “I’ll be brave for you,” he assured Mako. “Don’t worry, bro.”
Mako gave a fake smile and kissed his brother’s brow. “Can you walk?” he asked. Bolin nodded.
Mako helped Bolin to his feet and retrieved the hessian blanket, draping it around Bolin’s shoulders. “Let’s get going, then,” he said. “We don’t want to be late.”
The worst season in Republic City was winter, when the snows fell thick and long, and it was not rare for them to continue long into the night. As Mako roamed the streets of the city with his brother, he cursed himself for being stupid enough to hope for the Avatar’s aid. He would need to be smarter and stronger. Weakness would get him killed, and Bolin with him.
There would be no heroes coming to help them, Mako knew. No Avatar. Not in winter. All that was offered by winter in Republic City was the cold, the dark, death, and fear.
That was how things were. And Mako knew, as he and Bolin found the base of the Triple Threat Triad, that it was how things would always be.
Fear is for Winter
“Oh, my sweet summer child, what do you know of fear? Fear is for the winter, my little lord, when the snows fall a hundred feet deep and the ice wind comes howling out of the north.”
“Oh, my sweet summer child, what do you know of fear? Fear is for the winter, my little lord, when the snows fall a hundred feet deep and the ice wind comes howling out of the north.”
The worst season in Republic City was winter.
In summer, the rains came, but it was easy to hide from those. Republic City had no shortage of bridges and overhangs to wait beneath, and after the storms had passed, the city emerged in force to sample the bountiful harvest of the markets and take part in the summer’s festivals with their bellies full and their purses fat. They were rich and easy marks, the best kind.
The rain and the heat could give you a fever, and that could be nasty, but medicine was easy to steal once you knew how, so a fever would never kill you. Not like the chill of winter. There was no medicine for that.
In winter, the snows fell thick and long, and it was not rare for them to continue long into the night. No one came outside except children to play in the newfallen snow, the markets were empty, and the festivals were few and far between. The marks that did pass by would not relinquish their coin so easily.
The bridges and underpasses were little defense against the blizzards. The snow clung to skin and clothes, soaking through fabric and making everything damp and cold, a cold that refused to go away. Rain in summer could often be a welcome respite from heat. Snow in winter was always a fearful prospect.
Mako and Bolin’s first winter on the streets of Republic City had nearly seen them starve. The young urchins would have died had they not been taken under the wing of Peachy, the self-styled Beggar King. Peachy had taught Mako and Bolin the art of the grift and con, and shown them how to adapt their begging methods to the mark.
Mako wondered where Peachy was now. He hadn’t seen or heard from the Beggar King since the affair with Mahk the Dagger two years prior. The thought was pushed away as quickly as it came. On the streets, few thoughts could be spared beyond survival.
“Mako?” Bolin called from over near the fire. Mako’s younger brother had wrapped himself in the hessian “blanket” which he and Mako shared between themselves. A patch of his hair was missing, a souvenir from a tussle with a feral cat.
This crumbling factory had been Mako and Bolin’s home for the past year. No place in the factory was comfortable, and at night the cold winds blew through the shattered windows and made them shiver, but the snow never got inside, and that was what mattered.
“Mako?” Bolin repeated. “Can I play in the snow? I heard some kids playing outside. They sounded like they were having fun.”
Mako ground his teeth, but adopted a kind smile for his brother’s sake.
“Sorry, Bo,” he said. “If we had more firewood, maybe, but that’s the last we have. You’d have no way to warm up and get dry.”
“But-”
“Bolin, listen to me.” Mako walked over to his brother and put his hand on his shoulder. “You know how dangerous the snow can be if the cold and wet stay on you. Remember the first winter, before Peachy found us?”
Bolin frowned and hung his head. “Yeah,” he admitted. “But-”
“No buts,” Mako interrupted, his smile fading. “Now that mom and dad are gone it’s my responsibility to keep you safe. If anything happened to you… I couldn’t bear it.”
Bolin nodded. “I know,” he said. “Sorry, Mako.”
Mako gave his brother a hug. The hessian scratched against his skin uncomfortably, but Mako ignored it.
The snow stopped after two more hours, by which time Bolin had fallen fast asleep. Mako allowed himself a small grin at his brother’s snoring before making his way to a pile of rubble on the far wall, taking care not to wake Bolin. The fire was a dying pile of embers by now, a thin wisp of smoke rising from the ashes.
Mako carefully shifted the rubble until he came upon an old, beat-up, green metal box. This box was Mako and Bolin’s life support in the winter. Any extra money earned by hustling throughout the year went into the “cash stash,” as Bolin called it. It was another thing Peachy had taught them - another thing they owed him.
Mako pulled five yuans out of the box. It would be enough for a bit of food and some dry firewood. Mako had tried to collect his own wood after the rain or snow before - it never burned, and the smoke was unbearable. He’d learned then that good, dry firewood was an expense well worth the price.
Mako stuffed the yuans into his pocket, replaced the rubble, and snuck away from the fireside towards the exit. The heavy metal doors of the factory shut with a loud metallic clang behind him, but Mako was sure it wouldn’t wake his brother. As careful as Mako often was around him when he rested, Bolin was capable of sleeping through just about anything. It was something that had caused the brothers trouble more than once.
As Mako made his way to the market, he found his gaze caught by the enormous statue of Avatar Aang that stood stoically in the bay. Everyone said that the statue was a promise of safety and protection for the people of the city, but Mako had lived on the streets long enough to know that it was an empty promise at best, and a cruel lie at worst.
Bolin still bought into the promise, though he had learned better than to tell Mako about it out loud.
“Don’t worry, Mako,” Bolin had assured him time and time again for the first few months that they had spent on the streets. “The Avatar will help us, you’ll see. The Avatar will come and make sure that we won’t have to live on the streets anymore.”
Eventually, Mako couldn’t take it anymore. “The old Avatar is dead!” he had snapped. “And the new Avatar is just a kid like us, growing up somewhere in the Water Tribe. We’ll probably never even see them except in a newspaper.”
Bolin hadn’t said anything about the Avatar after that. Not to Mako, at least. But Mako still heard him at night when Bolin thought he was asleep, whispering to the Avatar to help them. It always made Mako sigh and shake his head, but he never said anything.
Mako turned away from the statue. If he kept dawdling, the market was like to close before he even arrived.
As it happened, the market was indeed nearly empty by the time Mako reached it, the sun beginning its retreat beyond the horizon. Only four stands remained open, but luckily those stands offered what he needed.
From Goh, a wizened butcher with a thick grey beard and pockmarked skin, Mako received a few strips of dried and salted meat in exchange for two yuans. Goh refused to tell Mako what sort of meat it was. “Be grateful I’m givin’ you any, street rat,” the butcher grunted. “S’only my husband says I oughtta be more nice to the less fortunate. Now get yourself clear ‘fore I change my mind.”
Mako slinked away, and approached the woodcutter’s stand. The woodcutter was named Hira, a young but stern man with a hawkish nose and thin lips. There was a dark, sunken hole in Hira’s face where one of his eyes ought to have been. The woodcutter was frequently heard to boast that he had lost his eye in a fight with a platypus-bear, but Mako and Bolin had learned the truth overheard from Hira’s father. The eye had actually been lost to an infection that the family had been too poor to treat. Even without knowing the truth, it was easy to see through the lie, since the missing eye was the only scar the supposed platypus-bear had left.
Hira shoved three tiny logs into Mako’s arms and demanded three yuans as payment. Mako grumbled but paid the price. Hira was a waterbender, and found it amusing to freeze anyone who complained about his prices in a block of ice. In winter, that could be a death sentence.
Mako was left with three thin strips of meat and three twigs with which to keep a fire going, but at least he had something. If it hadn’t been for the cash box, he would have nothing at all. Mako silently thanked Peachy as he left the market.
A short, sharp whistle caught his attention, and Mako cocked his head to the side to see a figure waiting for him leaned against the side of the market gate. It was not a face Mako had wanted to see, and he grimaced.
Shady Shin laughed as he noted Mako’s expression. “Now, is that any way to greet an old pal?” the gangster chuckle as he swaggered over to Mako.
“We ain’t pals, Shady Shin,” Mako said curtly. “Whatever you’re selling, I don’t want none of it.”
Shady Shin sighed and shook his head. “Be reasonable, Mako,” he said. “You and your brother can’t survive Republic City on your own forever. Sooner or later, you’re gonna need a fraternity. You’re gonna need the triads.”
“I’ll tell you where you can stick your spirits-damned triads!” Mako spat. The curse felt hollow in his mouth, and Shady Shin knew it.
“My, my, what a foul mouth you got on ya!” the waterbender said, throwing his head back and laughing. “I’d ask if you kiss your mother with that mouth, but- y’know.”
That made Mako angry. He slashed his arm in Shin’s direction, producing a burst of flame that left the gangster stumbling backwards into the melting snow. Mako glared at him for a moment before beginning on his way.
“Dammit, Mako, listen to me!” Shady Shin called to Mako, fumbling back onto his feet. “You and Bolin are the best hustlers on the street that ain’t part of a group! Sooner or later, the other triads are gonna be coming to call, and if they can’t recruit you, they’re gonna do their best to make sure no one else can!”
“Let them come,” Mako called back. “Me and Bolin will be fine as long as we have-”
“Your cash box, right,” Shady Shin finished, crossing his arms.
Mako stopped in his tracks. He turned back to face Shady Shin. “I never told you about the cash box,” he said. “How do you…”
Shady Shin grit his teeth and ground them softly. “This is why you need us, Mako!” he snapped. “You’re naive! Everyone knows you and Bolin were Peachy’s boys, and everyone knows that Peachy’s boys keep cash boxes in the winter! Now, if you wanted to recruit a couple kids and the only thing keeping them from having to turn to a triad was a measly little cash box… where do you think you’d strike first?”
Anger snatched Mako’s mind away from reason once more. “If you wanna threaten me and my brother, come out and say it to my face!” Mako shouted.
“I ain’t threatenin’ nothing!” Shady Shin protested.
Baby flames danced around Mako’s hands, pleading for him to make them grow. “What are the Triple Threats planning to do, Shin?” Mako demanded.
“We ain’t plannin’ on doin’ nothing,” Shin insisted. “We still want you to make the smart play and come to us willingly. But I can’t say the same for, say… the Agni Kais.”
The fires died and Mako’s eyes widened in fear. All around him, the world seemed to slow as Shady Shin’s words sunk in. “What are you saying?” he breathed.
“I’m saying,” Shady Shin replied, with the faintest trace of a smirk crossing his lips, “that if I was you I’d hurry on back to that little factory of yours. I hear it’s gonna be surprisingly warm over there before long.”
Time stopped, and it was hard to say exactly what happened next. As he ran, Mako noted sluggishly that he no longer held the wood or the meat. It was in his pocket, he thought. Or maybe he’d dropped it on the ground. Avatar Aang watched him as he ran, sneering from atop his hill.
“It’s no use,” Aang said, or maybe that was just a voice in Mako’s head. “Everything will always fall apart. You’ll never be more than this. Just lie down and let the snow bury you. It won’t hurt. You’ll even feel warm by the end. Just lie down and give up. The cash is gone, Bolin is gone, and you’ll never get through winter without either of them. What’s the point in running when everything’s gone and no one cares?”
“Shut up, Aang!” Mako screamed. In the street, Aang was laughing at him, and there was Shady Shin too, and Mahk the Dagger and the man who killed his parents. They were all laughing and jeering and telling him to give up.
He heard someone whispering under his breath for the Avatar to come and help them, and he wondered how Bolin had gotten there before realizing the voice was his own.
Finally, the factory was upon him. Or else it was an enormous pillar of fire in the shape of the factory.
Flames leapt from every window and every crack in the wall. There was creaking and groaning and crashing everywhere as the fire greedily gobbled the building up. All Mako could think of was the cash box - all those yuans, hard-earned and carefully-saved - he thought he could see them in the embers rising from the blaze, his only hope making its escape into the sky.
He found Bolin hidden, shivering, behind a pile of tires on the other side of the yard. The hessain was still wrapped around his shoulders, a fresh red bruise on the side of his head.
“I’m sorry!” Bolin wailed when he noticed his brother approaching. The hessian slipped from Bolin’s shoulders and all of a sudden his arms were around Mako, squeezing as tightly as they could. Tears streamed from Bolin’s eyes and snot from his nose, both soaking Mako’s shoulder in equal measure as his little brother pressed his head to it.
“Th-there were so many of them!” Bolin sobbed. “I w-wanted to f-fight them but there were so many of them a-and I barely got away and hid but I m-messed up and one of them hit me before I g-got away but I hid behind the tires and they didn’t ch-check!”
“Who were they?” Mako asked urgently. “What did they look like?”
“Th-they were all dressed in r-red,” Bolin said. “They s-smelled like s-smoke.”
“The Agni Kais,” Mako cursed under his breath. “Shady Shin knew all along.”
“Th-they set fire to the f-factory as s-soon as they gave up l-looking for me. W-why would they d-do that?” Bolin’s teeth were chattering.
Mako turned his head to gaze at the inferno. “The cash box,” he said. “They wanted to get rid of the cash box.”
With a final, deafening groan, the factory breathed its last and the structure collapsed in on itself. Within minutes, the factory was a pile of rubble, a few last defiant flames flicking in and out of the cracks.
“And it worked,” Mako said, his lip twitching. The tears came unbidden, and for once Mako could do nothing to stop them. With one arm he clutched his brother, and with the other he tightly gripped the red scarf he wore.
“Wh-what are we going to do?” Bolin whimpered.
Mako clenched his jaw. Bolin was scared. That meant he couldn’t be. He had to be strong. He had to be decisive.
“Don’t worry,” he told Bolin, saying the words that he himself did not believe. “It’s going to be okay.”
“How?” Bolin asked, looking up at his brother with eyes puffy and red from crying.
“I think I know a way to get us some work,” Mako said. Every word he spoke felt like a knife in the back of his parents. “It’ll be alright. We just need to be brave for a little while. Can you be brave for me, Bo?”
Bolin adopted his most serious expression and nodded. “I’ll be brave for you,” he assured Mako. “Don’t worry, bro.”
Mako gave a fake smile and kissed his brother’s brow. “Can you walk?” he asked. Bolin nodded.
Mako helped Bolin to his feet and retrieved the hessian blanket, draping it around Bolin’s shoulders. “Let’s get going, then,” he said. “We don’t want to be late.”
The worst season in Republic City was winter, when the snows fell thick and long, and it was not rare for them to continue long into the night. As Mako roamed the streets of the city with his brother, he cursed himself for being stupid enough to hope for the Avatar’s aid. He would need to be smarter and stronger. Weakness would get him killed, and Bolin with him.
There would be no heroes coming to help them, Mako knew. No Avatar. Not in winter. All that was offered by winter in Republic City was the cold, the dark, death, and fear.
That was how things were. And Mako knew, as he and Bolin found the base of the Triple Threat Triad, that it was how things would always be.
