Mayumi carried the lacquered box to the place Shan had indicated, though the scholar never explained the purpose of this curious errand. He spoke only of the object's importance, warning that its loss would bring consequences of the gravest kind. His instructions had been as vague as mist. Deposit the box within a building and then depart without question.
She exhaled wearily, resigned to the peculiarities of his temperament. Shan was, after all, a man who had triumphed in the world's most punishing examination, securing the most coveted title as a young scholar. For all his severity, he remained a model of cultivated Earth Kingdom gentility, though his philosophy ran counter to the moralistic Earth Sages who despised his cynical interpretations of human nature and governance. Mayumi, flawed as she knew herself to be, worried that her younger sister might absorb too deeply the more corrosive elements of his thoughts on the world at large.
"Just what is inside the box?" she wondered.
She trudged along the dirt path, arms outstretched to balance its heavy weight. Her fingers burned from the strain until she was forced to set the chest down to rest. Though the destination seemed near, she knew better than to exhaust her strength recklessly.
Around her stretched farmland devoted to a strange crop with twisting vines and broad leaves. Raised on seafood, she still found these vast, ordered rows of plants oddly alien. Curiosity gnawed at her, and after assuring herself the box was safe, she crouched and gently unearthed a specimen.
"Purple?"
The soil yielded a seed larger than an apple, its surface gleaming with an unnatural hue. She was familiar with rice and wheat, but never had she seen such a monstrous kernel.
Could this even be eaten?
No sooner had that thought crossed her mind, instinct jolted her body aside. A stone whistled past her ear, striking the ground where she had crouched. Whoever had thrown it underestimated the reflexes drilled into a Kyoshi Warrior.
"Get out of the field!" cried a voice.
A boy burst through the vines, his hair tangled with leaves, eyes fierce despite his small stature.
"Do not be afraid, I am no thief," Mayumi said softly, hands raised in peace. "I am delivering something, but your crops intrigued me. I only wished to see what they were."
Her calmness steadied him, though suspicion lingered. At last, he explained. The edible part is not the vine, but the swollen seeds themselves. They are rich in starch and vital to the nearby villages. Their vivid purple seemed unnatural to Mayumi, who still thought of herself as a fish-eater from a distant island.
She attempted to appear as harmless as possible, opening her empty palms to prove she bore no weapon. Still, the boy's eyes wandered toward the wooden chest.
"Where did you get that?" he demanded.
Mayumi stayed perfectly still. "Do you know Shan?" she asked.
A hesitant nod.
"Have you seen this box before?"
The boy admitted that such a chest occasionally arrived at his home, almost once each month. Under her gentle request, he agreed to guide her.
"Where is your house? I am meant to deliver what lies within."
They walked together down the path. The boy is ever cautious, and Mayumi followed with the burden balanced once more in her arms. Soon, a fortified farmhouse came into view, its stout walls encircled by a modest wooden fence. The great central structure resembled the famed tulou fortresses. Standing so close, Mayumi can do nothing but marvel at its immense size.
The boy darted through the gates, likely to fetch his elders.
Mayumi lingered by the fence. Within the courtyard, younger children played a game of ball, the leather sphere propelled not by feet alone but by jolts of Earthbending. She watched one child stomp, lifting the ground beneath the ball to kick it skyward, laughter ringing as they vied to score. Their carefree mastery of the element is a soothing view, an effortless display of power woven into play.
But Mayumi could not help but brood over Satchiko's inefficacy. As a non-bender raised among the Kyoshi Warriors, she too is culturally removed from the Earth Kingdom's mainstream traditions. Perhaps the fault lay in her sister's upbringing in an island where Earthbenders and their impacts on the land itself are absent and bending itself regarded as unnecessary. Kyoshi Island is after all a world apart, its customs distinct, its robes dyed blue rather than the green so emblematic of the mainland continent. Satchiko had mastered the fans with diligence, yet her full potential seemed to slumber still, stifled or hindered by something unseen.
And yet, what harm is there in pressing against the limits of one's gifted birth? Perhaps such musings were nothing more than Mayumi's excuses. For in truth, she had assumed the role of leader in this arduous journey across the continent, whether or not she admitted it aloud.
"What game is the Kamuy playing with us?" Mayumi raised her gaze heavenward, sighing at this singular dilemma. From the day her sister drew her first breath, everyone believed her destined to live as another non-bender. Who could have foreseen that one of her own would be marked with such ability when their entire island seemed bereft of it? She lifted her hand skyward, fingers closing futilely on empty air as though some secret lay just out of reach.
What must it feel like to be a bender? To summon the elements as if they were flesh and bone, moving with one's body rather than against it. To wield the world itself instead of the mere edge of a blade.
Her thoughts wandered as her eyes followed the darting flight of a water wagtail. The bird shot past so swiftly she scarcely caught it before it vanished. A strange unease lingered in her mind. Was that fleeting bird some sort of sign, divine yet vague? If so, what message had it carried on its wings?
Her reverie was broken by a presence stirring within the fence. Something padded closer. Lowering her eyes, the boy from earlier reappeared. From the building's entrance emerged an adult woman, fingerless yet instantly familiar. Mayumi remembered her from the Keju ceremony.
Sedna greeted her with warmth. Like many who had attended, she too recalled Mayumi's brief work in catering. After pleasantries were exchanged, she invited Mayumi within the fence.
"I didn't know Shan had hired a helper," Sedna remarked, smiling as she gestured toward the vast stone structure. "It's good to see that he isn't alone. Before earning his laurels as Zhuangyuan, all that scholar probably did is hide inside his home. Rarely does he interact with others aside from business dealings."
"Is that so?" Mayumi feigned ignorance, though she already knew of the White Scholar's reclusive nature and predilection for silence.
They walked the dirt path together. Sedna spoke of the building's past and Shan's purpose in delivering supplies. The immense tulou, once abandoned, had been half-ruined during the anarchy of the last Avatar's tenure. From those chaotic years, countless orphans had risen, some of whom reclaimed this fallen fortress home and refashioned it into an orphanage. Its walls and circular design could shelter hundreds, and though no longer a conventional dwelling, it had become a sanctuary for more souls still.
Yet such undertakings could not endure without benefactors. Bereaved women from nearby villages offered their hands, having lost their families to war. The Upper Ring provided allowances, and generous patrons supported this place with resources for food and warm garments for the children.
Still, with the unending tide of refugees pouring through the walls, not every family found safe harbor.
"I see," Mayumi murmured, dipping her head. Even within Ba Sing Se, the world revealed its cruelty. Kyoshi Island, for all its rustic flaws, seemed almost a haven beside the warring states, where life was spent and wasted like straw in the wind.
Through the whitewashed gate they stepped into a vast circular courtyard, hidden behind the tulou's stern earthen shell. The interior dwarfed her expectations. Rising tiers of rooms, balconies, and doors upon doors. Children swarmed the yard in playful order, devising their own games. The women custodians, mothers in spirit if not in blood, sat peeling vegetables in the shade of the kitchens while keeping watch over the young.
Mayumi's nose caught the fragrance wafting from the kitchen. The caretakers had set great cauldrons to simmer, filled with rice porridge, vegetables and fish. It was midday, and the children queued in neat files, patiently awaiting their share.
The Kyoshi Warrior observed in silence, a thought striking her unbidden. These little ones would grow strong in body, yet grow estranged from the lands and memories of their forebears. In calmer times without war's endless upheaval, few would have been severed from their ancestral homes and consigned to such a borrowed existence. Even so, this refuge is merciful compared to the cruelties that stalked this era.
Two boys brandished sticks in mock combat, sparring as though they are soldiers upon a battlefield. A grim pang touched Mayumi. These same boys, in years hence, might take up arms for Ba Sing Se, becoming instruments against the very states of their birth. To the children, it was a game. To her, it was a portent.
Her gaze drifted to a basket of curious purple roots, beloved by the little ones. She watched them peel away the skins and bite into the steaming flesh with evident delight. The tubers, she noted, were the very same crop cultivated in the fields outside.
"Sedna, what are those they're eating?" Mayumi asked, tilting her head in curiosity.
These violet-hued tubers are a staple of the common folk, prized for both their hardiness and their nourishment. Dense with starch and able to thrive in soil too meagre for wheat or rice, they stand as a steadfast safeguard against scarcity. In times of famine, this humble root has often staved off starvation, for even a single tuber is said to suffice in quelling a person's hunger.
"I just called it sweet potato," Sedna said. "Come on, I suppose you haven't eaten lunch yet." She beckoned Mayumi into the kitchen, and the latter set down the heavy wooden chest upon a table. Sedna, despite her fingerless hands, offered the visitor a steaming portion.
Mayumi accepted gingerly. The root is still hot, and she pressed her fingertips to her ears in a futile attempt to ease the burn before daring a bite. The taste surprised her, mildly sweet yet hearty, with a fleshiness uncharacteristic of vegetables. She chewed thoughtfully, savoring the unexpected flavor.
"It's delicious," she admitted, though she tried to temper her enthusiasm, knowing her own mother might deliver a scolding for demonstrating poor dining etiquette.
"Slow down," Sedna chuckled, laughter softening her voice as she caught Mayumi's eagerness. "There's plenty more."
As she ate, Mayumi's thoughts turned serious. Though dismissed by the Upper Ring as an ugly peasant's food, this tuber possessed quiet virtues. For Kyoshi Island, where fertile soil is scarce, such a crop could prove to be a great emergency store against hunger. It might be even more dependable than the soybeans grown in cracks of rocks.
She was still musing when a new scent stole her attention. Sharp, briny and strangely familiar.
"Sea prune stew, everyone! I've been tending it all morning!" Sedna announced brightly, carrying a pot in the crook of her wrists. The infamous aroma of Water Tribe cuisine drew grimaces from nearby women, but Mayumi felt a flicker of anticipation.
The stew was unmistakably of the Water Tribes, a product of barren tundra and eternal winters. Mayumi ladled herself a bowl. The first taste startled her. It was not so different from her mother's cooking, rich with the dense savor of the sea.
Before long, the bowl was empty. Sedna's eyes widened.
"Wow! I've never known anyone outside my people who could stomach this," Sedna exclaimed with delight. "Even Jang struggles to swallow it, and he eats spicy fermented cabbages every single day!" Though stewed sea prunes is a cherished staple of the Water Tribe, she admitted that outsiders often recoiled from its briny tang and unusual texture. People of the Earth Kingdom, in particular, are unsettled by the dish's exotic and unfamiliar ingredients. Yet here is Mayumi, not only finishing her bowl but even daring to request a second serving.
"Your stew is truly delightful," Mayumi said warmly, suddenly noticing the betrothal necklace that rested against Sedna's chest, a tradition still proudly upheld among the Northern Water Tribe. "Actually, my lineage is a colorful one. I recall my mother once telling me that my great-grandfather hailed from the South Pole."
Sedna personally poured another helping into Mayumi's bowl. They conversed with the politeness as if distant kin met on foreign soil, glad with this rare moment of familiarity. With Satchiko's lesson at the canal construction site likely to extend over hours, Mayumi welcomed the idle interlude, exchanging a medley of topics with the Waterbender.
The North Pole had always intrigued her. Tales from childhood spoke of Agna Qel'a, a city sculpted entirely from ice rather than earth, evoking the same awe she once felt before the glittering grandeur of Ba Sing Se's royal palace. Deliberately, she avoided mentioning the Northern Water Tribe's famed healing techniques, since Sedna's fingerless hands hinted at a harsher past, one perhaps better left unprobed.
"So, has Shan always been around here?" Mayumi asked casually, masking her curiosity in the guise of idle chatter.
Sedna's reply suggested otherwise. The scholar rarely appeared in person. It is believed that he delivered the wooden chests to the orphanage himself each month, yet no one had ever seen him. Most residents did not even know the donor's identity. Sedna herself had only discovered it when one chest contained a letter attesting to the White Scholar's generosity.
"Shan is generous," Sedna said. "Even before my time here, it is said his contribution rival those of the city itself."
Mayumi considered this. The more she learned of Shan, the more enigmatic his character became. The wooden chest she had carried to this place was very heavy. Nonetheless, this act is commendable, despite being a man who espouses a tyrannical philosophy that firmly asserts that human nature is evil.
In some ways, it does feel slightly contradictory.
Her brief visit to the orphanage ended shortly thereafter. Sedna and the other caretakers gifted her a few tuberous roots, a deep purple crop that could be further cultivated or boiled into nourishment. As Mayumi strode toward the canal site, the subtle tremors beneath her feet hinted at Earthbending in progress. Perhaps the White Scholar sought to immerse Satchiko in an environment that would coax the latent power from her.
The earth beneath her shifted, steady and insistent. Crossing a modest rise, she spied a straight, dry canal stretching across the land. Simple in appearance, yet the mechanics were delicate. Diverting water upstream and the neighboring farmlands would flourish. But to even miscalculate the downstream measurements slightly, the entire flow could collapse.
From a distance, Mayumi observed the orchestrated labor. Hydraulic engineers and Earthbenders guided scores of workers with precise gestures, while Satchiko attempted to mimic the motions. Still unaccustomed to lifting even medium boulders, the younger Kyoshi Warrior was assigned smaller tasks, pushing stones along the canal's edge. The White Scholar's presence is at least respected in these parts, yet his choice to bring an unseasoned pupil to such a demanding site spoke to a confidence bordering on desperation, staking his newly acquired prestige on a student who has still yet to master basic Earthbending.
Unsure if Satchiko's tentative efforts would ever yield mastery, Mayumi only watched. Against the backdrop of experienced Earthbenders shaping the land itself, the girl's progress seemed very modest. Yet even Mayumi could not entirely dismiss Shan's skill as a tutor, but his abilities in molding raw minds perhaps may be more suited in scholarly endeavors rather than this.
As the laborious work continued beneath the cacophony of construction, Mayumi's attention was seized by a small, lively water wagtail perched nearby. Perhaps the same one she saw earlier? It is a familiar sight from Kyoshi Island, the bird is revered among the elders due to its divine ties to the spirits. Yet her sharp eyes caught something odd, a tiny parcel bound to the creature's leg.
Instinctively, she extended her arm. The wagtail alighted upon her hand, and she carefully unfurled the letter. Her gaze hardened as the words inside revealed their significance.
Mayumi's vigilance intensified.
...
After a protracted struggle, Satchiko managed to move a modest boulder out of the ditch, collapsing to the ground in exhausted relief. Years of training as a Kyoshi Warrior, where leverage and agility often outweighed brute strength, did little to prepare her for this raw physical labor.
Shan arrived, fanning himself with his customary composure. He gestured toward another Earthbender, a younger girl who is deftly levitating a far larger boulder, a demonstration of what harnessing this stubborn element could yield under discipline.
"Despite this meager achievement," Shan said, voice void of emotion. "I recognize your diligence. Talent may elude you, yet the persistence of pursuing what others might deem madness is commendable. Compared to certain nepotists of the Upper Ring, you are a far more tolerable pupil. My abilities are better employed shaping the unrefined than instructing those who dabble in ornate eloquence espoused by the Earth Sages."
"T-thanks?" Satchiko stammered, caught between gratitude and bewilderment. It seems the White Scholar is fine with her still attending Zhu Xi's classes, which espouses the Earth Kingdom's sagely philosophy, which is incompatible with the legalistic school of thought Shan endorses.
She recalled Mayumi's words. Her station as the White Scholar's pupil had stirred the envy of countless Upper Ring households, who had hoped their own scions might be chosen rather than some rustic provincial. To the minds of the affluent, whether in Ba Sing Se or beyond, the logic was plain. Should a young noble secure the honor of being the first disciple of a Zhuangyuan scholar, would not the teacher, upon rising to the highest echelons of influence, naturally draw their favored pupil upward into the very heart of power?