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firelxrdsdaughter · 5 years

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The Hand of Kyoshi | Preview Chapter

Hey guys! So for the past few months I’ve been steadily working on two pieces for the @avatarbaang!

We are fast approaching our posting dates, and so I thought to give you guys a treat I would post the first chapters of both of my pieces here so that you can have a read through and see what you’re in for. xD

The Hand of Kyoshi follows Suki when she has first made rank in the Kyoshi warriors, and fills in the blanks about her history before we ever meet her in canon. Hope you guys enjoy!

The Hand of Kyoshi

synopsis: The hand of Kyoshi no longer stretches so far as it used to.

When Suki is little, all she thinks about is her Island and the people on it. Her mother (the leader of the Kyoshi Warriors), and her mother’s friends, and the villagers are the only family and the only thing that she has ever known. The world outside of Kyoshi Island seems like a distant fairytale told by travellers visiting for trade. It’s certainly not something that could invade her home and make things change.

This is all challenged when news of the Fire Nation’s growing influence in the Earth Kingdom reaches their ears. It soon becomes apparent that they cannot stay out of the fight forever…And her mother wants to do something about it now.

Her footsteps thud heavily against the dusty dirt road, and her breath is noisy in her ears. The earth is packed down from the passage of hundreds of pairs of feet, jarring through her small frame at each pump of her legs in her steady jog from the marketplace and back up the steep mountain incline toward the dojo that she calls home.

Beneath the sound of her breath her heart thunders, buzzing with her excitement.

The girl barely feels the weight of the basket of supplies which pulls down on her reedy arms and at her back and neck.

A bright grin peels back her cheeks, the wind whipping past her in her progress toward the dojo at the North edge of the town which she has called home since birth.

The precious jars that sit at the bottom of the basket, ensconced in the bright green fabric of her freshly made kimono and hakama, still manage to clack against one another with every impact of the soles of her sandals against the ground. They jangle like bells calling her forth to the battlefield. She feels them sing inside of her blood.

“Slow down or you'll hurt yourself!" Kenji’s chesty voice comes out to greet her as she passes his estate. She looks over her shoulder briefly with a nod of deference to the town’s elder. He peers back at her anxiously from the open gate that stands before his house.

“I’ll be careful,” she promises as she returns her attention to the road before her, not once breaking pace. She can almost hear him shaking his head and mumbling about young people and their inability to slow down and take the world a little bit at a time. Always in a hurry.

It doesn’t take long to reach the dojo despite the distance. The roofline climbs up over the crest of the hill as the girl ascends, swooping out like a dragon’s wings. The earth tones of the building’s wooden exterior contrast with the blazing autumn colours around it, stark and familiar. She smiles, her lungs expanding and contracting comfortably despite the exertion of her run.

The girl follows the familiar path down to the entrance of the main building, toeing off her sandals before she pounds barefoot across the wood of the deck and stops to bob a quick bow to the small shrine at the head of the room before she speed walks across the soft tatami to where the familiar figure of her mother sits before it, lighting incense methodically.

Mio is not a tall woman, by any means, nor is her appearance all that remarkable. Her chestnut hair hangs low on her back, collected partway down into a soft, green, piece of material to keep it out of her way. Her kimono is practical and well worn. Dark forest green contrasted with a simple obi in dusty rose.

“Mom I’m back!”

The woman turns to face her, her soft, narrow, middle-aged features almost unrecognizable without the signature warpaint of Kyoshi. She smiles at her daughter.

“Suki, welcome home.” She rolls to her knees, turning around on the mats to face the twelve-year-old and her burden.

“You got everything?”

“Yes mom,” she answers obediently, immediate, beaming proudly.

A small, amused, smirk tucks itself into her mother’s cheek before the woman reaches out her hands for the basket, finally relieving Suki of its burden.

Her mother grunts at the weight.

“You carried this all by yourself?” Mio seems almost surprised, and Suki flushes.

“That’s how it’s supposed to be done,” Suki points out, stomach fluttering, “isn’t it?”

Another smile spreads across the Kyoshi Warrior’s face, warm and slow.

“Yes, that’s right.” There’s more her mother wants to say. Suki can see the desire behind her blue-green eyes, but as per usual the Captain of the Kyoshi Warriors is silent on anything further to do with the matter.

“Are you ready for tonight then,” Mio questions.

Suki’s heart rate rises once again and, breathless, she nods her head in agreement.

“Yes, mom.”

Her mother’s expression remains soft. Suki thinks that there is even something sad behind the look in her eye. Something that Suki herself cannot name. All she feels is excitement.

Nerves.

She’s going to prove herself.

“Good,” Mio finally says, “remember that you’ll need to rest. There’s no use in wearing yourself out,” her tone is pointed at Suki’s flushed cheeks and shining eyes, “not when there will be plenty of that this evening when you take the next steps on your journey.”

Suki tries to put on a serious face, and she presses her lips together, nodding her head decisively.

“Yes mom, I know.” But it’s difficult, she thinks, to even consider standing still. A warrior must be able to plant themselves like a tree; serene but always ready to bend with the changing wind. Her whole body is abuzz with energy. Suki thinks she could keep going for days and days with all of the energy that courses through her.

She wonders if it’s the same for all of the girls who are about to become fully fledged Kyoshi Warriors. She wonders if even the women that her mother trained were the same. She wonders if her mother was the same.

“Mom —?”

Her mother pauses in the midst of getting to her feet, basket in hand, looking expectantly at Suki.

“…What was your ceremony like?”

“Mine?”

“Yes…Yours. Do you remember?” Suki thinks it was probably so long ago that maybe her mother does not recall what it was like to go from novice to master.

The woman snorts, standing fully and resting the basket at her hip with ease.

“Of course I remember. I think everyone does.” She gestures at Suki with her free hand. “Come on, we’ll walk and talk.”

Suki follows her mother eagerly from the training hall and into the hallway in the interior building, the two of them slipping their feet into grass slippers before they make their way down the hallway and toward the kitchen.

The smell of wood smoke permeates the space, drifting from rooms where other Kyoshi Warriors are living, boarding with them rather than going home to their families on the other side of the island. For some, it is worth saving themselves the three hour trip by foot between the far larger settlement that the dojo inhabits and the smaller one on the Northern side of the island.

Paper screens obscure any hint of what might go on beyond them, but here and there, where one of the women has opened her second door onto the outside, a shadow can be seen. A silhouette of a figure going about their morning routine.

Like a play put on with shadow puppets.

Suki’s eyes dart back to her mother who has pulled ahead of her somewhat, and she hurries her steps to catch up, matching her mother’s stride after a moment.

“So?”

The woman looks down sideways at her, an amused expression in place on her fine features, full lips parting after a moment.

“I was nervous,” she says, “but excited.”

Suki nods. That’s exactly the way that she would describe her own feelings on the matter.

“I wasn’t as young as you are,” she admits, “but I was young enough. My own mother didn’t really think I was ready, but the others convinced her that I was prepared for my trial. I’m glad that they did. I think that, even if I wasn’t quite ready, it helped me move forward with my training. It was the next step in my journey. I learned a lot merely going through the trial itself. From the mentor who I battled, and about myself.”

Suki smiles brightly at the thought. Learning about herself. She likes that sentiment.

“Mio?”

Both Suki and her mother turn toward the voice that comes from one of the rooms at the end of the hall. Her mother’s second in command, Haru, has poked her round face out of her door, and she looks expectantly at the two of them. Mio turns with a smile to face her more fully.

“Yes?”

“When you have a moment I had wanted to speak to you about the preparations for tonight,” Haru says seriously.

Suki sees her mother suppress a sigh before nodding soberly at the other woman.

“Of course, Haru. I will be back to speak with you soon. Will you still be in your quarters?”

“For now, yes.”

“Alright.”

Both Mio and Suki turn from Haru, starting on their journey down the hall once more.

They reach the quieter interior of the large building that their family has kept up for generation; it feels homier here, in Suki’s opinion. There is less of the hustle and bustle of the every day.

Sometimes, as a child, she had wished that she could have siblings to fill up the interior halls too. She had wished that it wasn’t so quiet. Now, she appreciates it. The idea that she does not have any siblings to take their mother’s attention off of her on a day which is so important for Suki.

It would have been nice to have her father though.

In companionable silence, the two of them reach Suki’s room, and her mother pulls the paper screen away from the opening, kneeling and settling the basket on the soft tatami floor before entering and beckoning for Suki to follow.

She kicks off her slippers, lining them up perfectly alongside her mother’s on the hall floor, and comes to kneel in the interior of her room, sliding the door closed again before she returns her attention to her mother.

The commander of the Kyoshi Warriors has moved to the center of Suki’s room and is taking the contents of the basket out to lie on the floor.

The green wool kimono that they’d sent to the tailor for two weeks previous, stitched with expertise. Suki had managed to take a look at the work before she’d got home, and she knows well enough that the stitches are so small in the seams that one can barely tell that they’re even there at all.

She wishes her own sewing were so skilled. Alas, it isn’t her strong suit. The kimono is followed by the deep green ceremonial hakama. Her mother lays them both out cleanly, smoothing away the wrinkles of transport.

They’re followed by terracotta jars, painted with lacquer and gold leaf. Their war paint is contained within. The chalky scent of the white and red face paints will follow her everywhere today, once she has been readied. A smell that she has always associated with her mother and her aunties.

Suki kneels, waiting patiently for her mother to finish with her task, trying not to fidget. A warrior can remain completely still and serene, calm even in the face of battle.

“In an hour you will take the sacred bath,” her mother says as she puts the finishing touches on her display in the center of the room, “and wash away your impurities. Then you will go to the temple and meditate until sundown.”

Suki knows all of this, of course, but it is her mother’s duty to remind her, and it is her duty to listen. She takes a deep breath and settles where she is sitting, nodding seriously at her mother’s instructions.

“No food or drink will pass your lips until the feast tonight, to remind you of the hunger that those we are meant to serve suffer.”

This, of course, is symbolic too. Their people do not suffer from hunger like in the old days, and the hand of Kyoshi no longer stretches outside of their island. Suffering, however, is meant to be understood by a good acolyte of Kyoshi, and Suki is willing to suffer the hunger that is required of her for her trial.

“Yes, mother.”

Mio’s expression softens again, and she reaches forward, taking one of Suki’s hands between her own. She sighs heavily.

“Look at you, growing up right in front of me.” Mio turns her head away, retrieving one of her hands to wipe at the corner of an eye.

Suki smiles back at her mother, her chest feeling fit to burst.

“Don’t cry, mom.”

“I’m not,” Mio denies, grinning at her daughter when she turns back to her. A wet trail runs down her cheek.

“Yes you are.” The girl gets onto her knees and shuffles toward her mom, bringing her hands up to wipe her tears away. “No one can stay a kid forever.”

Her mother laughs. Suki wishes she wouldn’t, but at least it isn’t tears.

“That is very true,” she says, taking Suki’s wrists between her fingers and turning her face to kiss her palms.

Mio stands, releasing her as she goes.

“One hour,” she reminds Suki.

“I know mom.” Suki smiles back at her, face turned upward as the other woman makes her way back to the door of her room.

“We’ll all be waiting.”

Suki feels her heart racing in her chest, the clack of the door closed behind her mother sounding more final than she had ever thought possible. She takes a deep breath.

Suki had never thought that meditating for the better part of a day could leave her so tired and disoriented. She can barely think straight as her tabi’d foot slides onto the tatami of the dojo floor, soft and silent.

She doesn’t feel like the same person.

Her skin itches under her layers of makeup, and her shoulders and middle feel overly weighted with the traditional armour which covers her uniform. In the silence of the room, filled to the rafters with people come to witness her test, the only thing that Suki can hear is the tinkling of her headgear.

She comes to kneel before her mother, and the two other warriors situated at the front of the room, before the shrine to their predecessors. Suki bows low, forehead pressed to the backs of her gloved hands.

The rustle of fabric as everyone else in the dojo bows as well is deafening.

“Suki of Kyoshi Island,” her mother begins, voice booming in the silence which follows, “Avatar Kyoshi calls you forth to begin your trial. Do you accept her call?”

Suki straightens to look at her mother, still half-bent in her deference.

“Osu!” Her assent echoes around the room, resounding in her ears. Confident. Suki bows again, forehead touching the mats.

She straightens.

“Do you accept the responsibility of defending our people and all innocent people who cannot defend themselves from harm, as is our way?”

“Osu!” Another bow. Straighten.

“Do you understand the gravity of the power which will be handed to you should you succeed in your trial, and receive the golden belt which will brand you forever more a Kyoshi Warrior?”

“Osu!”

“Then please stand, and let the trial begin.”

Suki is glad for her empty belly, though it pangs with every movement. She thinks that if it had been full, she might have thrown up. Suki closes her eyes and breathes, bowing again before she moves to the center of the room. She forces herself to grin, falling into a ready stance.

This part of the ceremony, like the rest, is relatively predictable. Weeks before she had been assigned an opponent to take her trial with — an elder who she wished to follow in the footsteps of once she has been granted her status as a warrior of Avatar Kyoshi. Riko, one of the younger warriors, with a broad smile and a cheerful disposition, had volunteered to be her mentor.

So Suki waits for her to rise from her seat at the side of the room, and to join her on the mats to test her skills.

“Challenger,” Mio announces, her voice ringing through the quiet hush that has settled over all of those who have come to spectate, “please proceed forward.”

Suki glances her way only briefly before returning her gaze to the empty space before her, hands free and up in a defensive position, ready. Riko shifts in her seat, ready to stand, and then stops. She looks wide-eyed at the front of the room. Suki looks again, frowning.

Her stomach drops as, from the assembled commanders at the front of the dojo, Haru stands. Her heart starts to thunder in her ears.

This is unheard of.

Her mother looks at Haru, but in the end she says nothing. Suki can see that she is not pleased with Haru’s actions. A scowl pulls at her features, making her look more severe than usual.

The girl trains her gaze forward again, feeling herself begin to sweat in her uniform. She tries to guess what this means, but most of all, she doesn't know how to proceed. Haru is not her partner or her mentor, Riko is. Does this mean that she has been ousted? What will happen if Suki fails against Haru?

What will —?

There is precious little time left to consider the ramifications of what is about to happen. Haru comes to a stop before her, her arms outstretched, mirroring Suki’s position.

No signal is given to start their match. Suki looks owlishly at Haru even as she chooses to attack her from the front.

One on one competitions like this one usually have a structure. A technique that is meant to be practiced over and over until it is ingrained in the muscles. The challenge that Suki faces now, however, is up in the air.

Of the hundreds of techniques that she knows, she must draw on her knowledge and use it to her advantage to win the fight. Suki can barely think, let alone act, and a frontal attack looks deceptively easy.

She acts.

Suki flows with the strike, pivoting all the way around, the weight of Haru’s knuckles brushing against her palm before she takes a firm hold of Haru’s wrist.

Her toes dig into the soft grass mats. She shoots forward with her hips. She throws the other woman well across the room with the momentum of their shared movements.

Suki’s mouth hangs open.

Haru rolls, spinning on her knee to face Suki once more. She looks — determined.

Haru launches herself back toward Suki. Suki meets her head-on, catching her in the crook of an elbow, sending her back onto her rump once again.

Haru grabs her ankle, foot hooking behind Suki’s knee.

The girl falls as well. The other warrior scrambles to get atop of her, fist ready to strike down at her face. Suki cocks her hips, grabs onto the wrist of the hand twisted in the front of her gi.

They roll backward.

When they recover, it’s Suki straddled on Haru’s chest. Her elder looks surprised, if only for a moment. Haru bucks. Suki tries to dig her toes into the mats. She feels her body tip in the unseating.

She rolls out of the way. Back on her feet. Suki thumbs at her nose. Maybe a little too cocky. The older warrior’s face could have been flushed under her makeup. Suki cannot tell…But there is a familiar set to her jaw. as though she is frustrated; annoyed with Suki’s show of confidence.

The two of them breathe harshly in the quiet of the dojo.

There’s tension from the crowd. Suki reminds herself to ignore them.

Haru strikes from overhead.

Suki feels her heart jump in her surprise. Muscle memory takes over. She catches the strike, leading hand on Haru’s elbow. She twists, pushing the other woman back. She grabs her hand and pivots. Turns back. Haru collapses backward with but the twitch of Suki’s hand against her own and she moves to roll the other warrior to her belly.

Her grip is not what it should be.

Haru catches Suki behind the knees again, the two women crying out (Suki in surprise) as once again the younger finds herself on her back. There is noise from the crowd. They’ve started to get excited. Suki breathes out sharply.

Haru allows her to stand, and the two of them pant, facing one another, hands at the ready. Haru seems calmer than before. It makes Suki uneasy.

Haru falls back into a defensive stance. Suki changes her own stance, gaze hardening in resolve when she realises that she is being invited to attack first.

A Kyoshi Warrior must attack as well as defend. This is a foundational principle.

Ready for anything. Stop the situation before it gets out of hand.

Suki comes forward, chopping down from the side with the blade of her hand. Haru catches her. Solid. Suki just manages to block the fist that comes toward her face to distract her. Haru’s other hand brushes her attacking arm away. The second in command comes in close, her dominant arm heavy against Suki’s chest. She feels her spine strain. Her body is pulled back by Haru’s hand at the nape of her neck.

Her body sways left. Haru throws her right.

Suki rounds her back, breaking the fall with a slap of her arms against the mats, but it is resounding anyway. Her chest feels tight for a moment before she has recovered and flipped herself back onto her feet. She pivots as Haru comes toward her in another attack, catching her arm and letting the momentum of the other woman continue to propel her forward passed Suki’s position and precariously close to the assembled warriors knelt to the side of the dojo mats.

Suki’s hands come back into a ready position, her blue eyes trained on Haru as she recovers.

The older Kyoshi Warrior laughs. It sounds pleased in spite of her apparent determination to…Well, Suki’s not sure what. Haru grabs hold of a wooden staff, hidden from Suki’s sight by the group of other warriors. She dances out of the way of the first swing of the wooden weapon toward her.

To the side. Step. Down as she swipes at her head. Step. Suki bends back out of the way of another swipe, this time at her throat. She feels her momentum backward. Rolls rather than fall on her rump.

She finds herself close enough to the extra weapons that they house on the far wall of the dojo that she can reach out and grab her own short staff.

She catches Haru’s next strike with a backward swipe of her weapon. It turns in her hand. She strikes out, stopping short of Haru’s throat.

Her mother’s second in command stops abruptly, eyeing down the length of Suki’s weapon. She lets out a burst of breath through her teeth, and swipes the staff aside with her own, backing off.

Suki falls into a defensive stance with the staff once again, stepping back with each strike of Haru’s weapon against her own in the thick silence of the dojo. Suki feels the turn of the battle’s tide as it happens. Her spine strains, her balance off as she retreats.

Haru bears down on her until Suki cannot keep hold of her weapon any longer, disarmed by an expert thrust and parry. Sent to her back again with a sharp strike to her stomach which winds her. Suki struggles to draw in breath even as she raises her hands in front of her face, trying to shuffle back. She digs her heels into the mats to propel her away from Haru.

The second in command is not deterred. She makes to strike again.

“Enough!”

Haru’s weapon stops before it can descend, and Suki feels the tension in her own limbs lingering even as the second in command looks over at her mother, lowering her weapon and stepping out of her offensive stance.

“The trial is over. Warriors, back to your marks,” she instructs firmly, levelling a glare at Haru.

Suki sits up in a flurry once Haru has backed down, scrambling wearily to her feet, hearing a ringing in her ears. She sways but stays standing, at the ready. Mirroring one another the two of them fall to at ease and then bow. Haru exits the mats. Suki cannot help but catch the brief, satisfied, tug of her mouth into a smile before she has schooled her expression again and turned back to the gathered audience, sitting back in her assigned place.

Suki turns to face the front of the room and her mother.

“Candidate Suki.” Her mother’s voice has softened again, her expression too. Suki is glad for the makeup that obscures the flush she feels rushing to her cheeks at the marked difference. “You have done well. You are free to wash and take some time to yourself whilst we deliberate on the outcome of your trial. Please, be excused.”

Suki bows again, her heart even louder in her ears than before, if possible. She walks steadily from the dojo, but she feels faint. She will not faint. She will not make a fool of herself. She will not —

Safely out on the terrace, hidden behind the paper shoji that obscures the majority of the dojo, Suki allows overwhelmed tears to slide down her painted cheeks, streaking her makeup further than her sweat has already done. Something inside of her knows that the test was more than just a simple test to see if she is ready. She knows that Haru meant to hurt her, if she could get away with it. That she wanted to prove something to her mother and had used Suki as a vehicle to do so.

Perhaps it is simply to show that Suki is neither ready nor skilled enough to earn her gold belt yet. Perhaps that she will never be ready?

Will she ever be ready?

Her thoughts reeling, Suki finds her way to one of the many empty public courtyards in close vicinity to the dojo and sits on the bench provided there, taking in sharp breaths, trying to even her pulse and stop the sobs that threaten to be loud enough to wake the island’s very dead.

A dull scrape sounds behind her. Suki jumps, turning to see who might be lurking, remembering her eyes and wiping at them ineffectually. All it serves to do is smudge red and white all over her gloves. It’s Kenji.

The old man shuffles his way over to her, silent until he occupies the space that sits empty beside the little girl, grunting out almost dramatically as he sits. His knees crack loudly.

Suki looks sidelong at him again, bowing her head, shame heating her face once more.

“That was an impressive display in there,” he begins conversationally, “you’ve worked so hard and come so far, Suki. Imagine a young girl like you holding her own against a seasoned warrior. Your mother must be very proud.”

Suki sniffles, brow furrowing.

“I didn’t — “ she protests. He interrupts her.

“And with Miss Haru not holding back like that — she must have been so frustrated to find that you would not go down so easily. Or maybe she was impressed.”

Suki’s brow furrows yet further, but her blue eyes fix on the elder, hands fidgeting in her lap.

“You think so…?” she asks hesitantly.

Kenji smiles, the gaps in his teeth stark.

“I think so.”

“I don’t really think that Haru likes me,” she admits then, turning her face back toward her lap, and smoothing out the dark green fabric of her hakama.

“Haru’s always been a grump,” Kenji says with a harrumph. “She’ll get over it, and she’ll warm up to you for it too. I can guarantee as much.”

“If you say so,” Suki agrees reluctantly.

Kenji smiles again, reaching over to place his arm around her narrow shoulders. He hugs her tight to him, and breathes in deep, looking up at the dusk sky where the stars have already started to appear in pinpricks of distant light above them.

“Your dad would be so proud too.”

“My dad?"

“Yes. Ryuichi was smitten with your mum because of her skills as a warrior. Amongst other things. I bet he’s beaming with pride in the spirit world for what you’ve accomplished today. His own little girl.”

Suki’s face scrunches a little, and she feels the urge to cry sticking in the back of her throat once again. She swallows, working the tight ache of it away. She smiles. She feels her limbs soften.

“Thanks, Uncle.”

#ooc #The Hand of Kyoshi #my writing #short fic #the entire thing's about 25k #and honestly I never thought I had it in me to write that much when it came to fan work but #here we are #:DDD #Suki #avatar: the last airbender #fanfiction #this chapter's long so my apologies to your eyes. xD #theavatarbaang

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