**88 years after the genocide of the Air Nomads.**
**Northern Water Tribe. Chief's private training grounds.**
In a large, spacious chamber entirely carved from ice—typically used for the Chief's training and his guards—a beautiful white-haired boy practiced fluid, graceful chi movements across the field. With each motion, water rippled through the air in sync with his steps.
A three-year-old girl watched him intently, her sky-blue eyes following his every move. Even her tiny hands, held out in front of her, unconsciously mimicked his gestures as if trying to memorize them.
After a few minutes, the boy stopped, smiled, and looked at the little girl.
"Little princess, did you need something from me?" he asked with a gentle smile and warmth in his eyes.
"Big brother, you promised not to call me that anymore," she replied, puffing out her red cheeks adorably. "Mom asked me to call you for dinner. And when will you start teaching me waterbending too?"
"Just wait a little longer, and I'll personally begin training you," he said, smoothing her soft white hair.
"I'm not just going to believe you this time. Pinky swear!" she demanded, hands on her hips, trying to look stern—which only made her cuter.
"Of course," he laughed, extending his pinky for the unbreakable oath. As soon as their pinkies locked, he scooped up the giggling girl and ran toward the kitchen, her laughter echoing in the empty chamber.
* * *
**Yuki**
The day after the birth, I woke up with excruciating body aches, like I'd spent yesterday loading bricks onto trains single-handedly. It lasted an entire month—a month of bed rest that made me want to climb the walls from boredom.
During this time, my chi system was in complete chaos. I was too afraid to even venture near it, knowing nothing good was happening there.
For that month, I lay in a private healing chamber, visited daily by my parents and waterbending healers. Each day felt like a theatrical performance titled "Mother Hen Tending to Her Egg." No need to guess who starred in it. My parents were clearly worried about me, but their concern often went overboard. Sometimes, I had to convince my mom to leave, but mentioning Yui always worked.
There were silver linings to my confinement, like having time for simple reflections. Comparing Yui's birthdate and her age when the Avatar arrived, it's clear the canon timeline is unfolding as expected. It might just be a coincidence, but everything I've seen suggests no major changes yet. Coming up with a name, especially an East Asian one, was tough when my mind was filled with Slavic and English names. I settled on keeping the name from the cartoon.
Finally, after questioning my parents, I learned the sequence of events that unfolded while I waited outside the chamber. Yui was born with weak breathing, and the healers fought for her life for half an hour. My parents, seeing hope in waterbending, forgot about the spirits Tui and La, who could have helped. Thankfully, it ended well, but coming to the human world made me too complacent. I need to stay vigilant—this situation was a stark reminder that life is full of unexpected twists, both good and bad.
One day, lying on the brink of sleep, I felt foreign emotions—faint, barely noticeable, but definitely not mine. They occurred regularly, growing clearer each time. No need to overthink it: first, the epicenter of these emotions was the Chief's palace; second, they were primitive and shifted wildly; and third, a piece of my essence was in the same direction.
Feeling Yui's emotions was entertaining. I even learned to send her mine, often cheering her up when she was upset—and it worked. I don't know why, but she felt closer to me than my parents within days. I'd have loved her anyway, but the part of me still in her seemed to connect us spiritually.
After a month, I finally came home and saw Yui. Honestly, I understood why I'd been smothered with affection before. How could anyone resist that concentration of cuteness without cuddling her?
My parents started getting jealous of Yui's attachment to me. Whenever I entered her sensory range, her little hands reached for me, ignoring everyone else. Only I could predict what she wanted or soothe her better. Seeing their conflicted expressions as they handed her to me was priceless. They never understood why, even cutting back on work to spend more time with her.
Now, about my bending: the results weren't as bad as expected. Yes, part of my chi is missing, but it's regenerating visibly. The merger's paused, but I'll fully recover in five years, delaying the full merger by just one year—not critical.
Determined to develop in other areas, I intensified my training, adding more strength exercises until I was exhausted. It wasn't pleasant, especially when Mom refused to heal me, boycotting my harsh workouts. Seeing her protests were futile, she relented and started treating me again. This body never ceases to amaze me—it heals faster, and all its parameters surpass my peers'. Testing it in childish scuffles was too embarrassing, though.
My parents tried socializing me by bringing their friends' kids, but one look at my peers' carefree faces compared to mine made them drop the idea, figuring I'd managed with adults before.
The palace library's books ran out, so now I run to the city library to read there. Borrowing books is impossible—knowledge is too valuable, and librarians would send even the Chief's son away.
I'm determined to finish all the books by age five, or most of them. Since I can't actively bend yet, I need to train my mind and body. Once my bending activates, I'll dedicate myself fully to it.
By the way, from Dad's library, I now theoretically know how to butcher animals, determine their age, and use their parts for healing potions. I know how to build ice houses for comfortable living, thanks to Earth Kingdom fortification books. There's an entire shelf of war strategies against the Fire Nation from past Chiefs—who died often, paying for that knowledge in blood. A thin book on the North Pole's flora gathered dust on the top shelf. I even enjoyed reading about water—worse than some Chinese light novels—but when you're starving for information, it doesn't matter. There were books on everything.
The city library isn't much better, except for a whole section on waterbending: techniques, masters' insights, even scrolls on bloodbending and extracting water from the environment. Those were just theories, though—their authors lacked the lifespan to prove them, and other masters dismissed their work as nonsense. Tradition reigns here, but I think the Southern Tribe would ask how many enemies they could take down with those skills.
I found another treasure in this ocean of knowledge: a book by the creator of the first healing technique. Maybe she wasn't the first, but who bothers theorizing for the uneducated? Healing huts focus on practice: if you fail, keep trying until you succeed. Theoretical foundations are ignored here; master-to-student tradition still dominates.
The author was thorough, even criticizing the era's policies and calling the Chief and elders short-sighted, stubborn rams—which I agreed with. After visiting Wan Shi Tong's library, she found records of energybending, drew conclusions about life energy, and then discovered chi. She called those authors idiots for not reading each other's work—and I fully agreed. They described the same thing: energybending from the lion-turtle era, life energy in the Avatar era, and chi later on.
In healing, the healer adds a piece of their life energy, which flows within all of us, like prana. The author's statistical analysis showed healers live longer than even the strongest benders. She believed that each time healers deplete their life energy, they unconsciously increase its density and conductivity, leading to better health and longevity.
Now I'm eager to learn healing. Imagine the possibilities: what if I manipulate blood and charge it with my chi for healing? Could this increase the efficiency of rejuvenation? Essentially, it's a path to making my loved ones long-lived. I'm not leaving this world until I'm truly bored, and with my chakra system and hybrid spirit-human nature, I should live a very long time.
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