A car honked and something snapped in Mr. Yuan. He suddenly came at her, gripping her tightly by the shoulders and staring her in the eyes. Whimpering, she looked away, avoiding that look in his cold eyes. His tone was emotionless, but firm. He spoke of a hard past, which Yuriko wasn't sure she believed, but concluded, "This is no longer so. If people couldn't change we wouldn't be having this conversation."

She nodded very quickly, just once, and then he released her. She didn't like him touching her, not at all, but at the same time it was almost as if he... was encouraging her, in a very weird way. He spoke again, much less intently this time, again with encouragement. Yuriko found some strange strength inside her and looked up at him, nodding.

"Come with me. What do you have to lose?"

He was right. Once she was off shift, Daddy wouldn't really care where she went, as long as she was back by sunset. With these long days, it could be a while in the hot sun... But Yuriko needed to get better. Both Mom and Dad were firebenders. She was letting them down by not even practicing. This might be her only shot for someone who knew better about firebending than she did to talk her through some things.

"Okay," she agreed. "I'll show you what I know, Mister —" But she was cut off by the thudding of feet from the interior of the apartment: her father was coming down the stairs. She quickly turned back, ringlets whirling, and said, "Thank you very much for your patronage. I hope to see you again sometime..." She gave a very fast bow but it was too late. The door behind her swung open and Dad appeared.

"Thanks, Yuriko," he said amiably. Yuriko gave Mr. Yuan a quick, pointed look, then whirled away. She plucked the large tome from under the table, and before her father could ask, she slid inside and pattered up the stairs.

The man turned. He was tall and broad of shoulder with flaming amber eyes. "I hope you weren't encroaching on my daughter too closely, sir," he said coldly, quietly, pointing a finger at Mugen's face. "And if you lay a hand on my little flower, or if she comes back to me a second after the sun falls, I will have those pretty clothes off of your scrawny back. That is a promise."

But a moment later Yuriko had returned. She'd exchanged her dress shoes for soft slippers, but the dressed remained the same. She stood on tiptoes to peck her father on the cheek. "Bye Daddy! I'll be back for dinner." She pattered over to Mr. Yuan's side. "Where to?"

Her father eyed them, unhappy but silent.

Typically, when people tried to intimidate Mugen he would break something on them. If he thought they stronger than himself he would have someone else take care of them. Yuriko's father, on the other hand, wasn't trying to threaten his way out of a payment or interfere in his business one way or the other.

Despite it being his day to abandon any pretense and be himself Mugen conjured up a character. Polite young man.
He gave a deep bow to the man then looked up in mock sheepishness.
"Pardon me, sir, it's furthest from my mind. While I do think she's pretty this is just a talk between bending enthusiasts. I promise you on my father's grave that Yuriko will return without a hair out of place.
Mugen almost smirked at promising on his father's grave. He'd never met the man and if he did he'd be tempted to kill him himself for leaving his mother.

"Where to?"
Mugen paused, chewed the inside of his right cheek for a moment and grunted."I hadn't made plans for this. I just wanted to find a quiet place to read." He scanned the area and noticed one of the adjacent apartment buildings seemed in disuse.
"Let us see if that parking lot is empty," he said pointing in the direction of the building.

"Tell me something of yourself. When was the first time you bended fire?"
It was a rare moment of genuine interest in another person and it showed in his voice. "I can read all the books on bending there are but it is something I will never do. That's what fascinates me." The slight Foggy Swamp drawl came back into his voice.

Disused Storage Warehouse

Moving back up to his new-found teacher, he reached her in time to hear her name as she introduced herself. Moping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and wiping it on his tatty tank top, the young firebender was about to return the courtesy before she began going on about the next lesson. He was quick to close his mouth; in his experience, people his senior rarely reacted well to being interrupted when they were talking.

Watching as she started the demonstration of her description of the next move, Zheng noted that the way she moved did not look like normal firebending. Indeed, it look far more like waterbending than anything, although his knowledge of that particular art was limited to the pro-bending matches that he had watched and advice on how to take advantage of their fighting form from his father, and admittedly pro-bending was not exactly traditional bending.

Finishing the demonstration, Sora advised him on "practicing many sets" to enhance his overall bending ability. Unsure exactly how this would work, Zheng nevertheless got into his stance and placed his hands into the same position that his teacher's had been in. Her advice on his stance had been good, after all. Why should he not give her the benefit of the doubt on this?

Mimicking Sora's movements from a moment ago was not so difficult to start off with. He brought his left hand up and around while his right went down in the same motion. He rolled his hands in front of his chest... then forgot the rest of the movement she had made. Tutting at himself, Zheng started again, this time remembering to cradle his hands and stretching his arms out like wings with the fingertips still cupped. He did not use any firebending yet, wanting to be sure that he hand the movement down first.

Now certain that he had the hand moves memorised, Zheng took several deep breaths and started again, this time igniting a flame between his hands and split it between his fingertips like Sora has shown him too. Keeping his breathing steady, the young man repeated the action over a few times before speaking.

"Zheng", he said awkwardly, never stopping the motion he was doing. "My name, that is. Zheng."

After a few more moments passed, Zheng finally put into words the question that had been burning in his mind ever since he this older woman had barged into his current place of rest.

"Why are you doing this? Helping me with my firebending, I mean", Zheng continued, sighing at himself as he finished another set. "I can actually speak properly, in case you were wondering", he added sheepishly.

His polite and rather upper class manner of speaking often made people suspicious of him in downtown Republic City. It had place him in more than his fair share of scraps as well, often muggers or other homeless people who had mistaken him for a stupid rich kid who had taken a wrong turn, only to find he was just a regular stupid and completely yuan-less kid.

Disused Storage Warehouse

Sora was pleased to see her young pupil putting into practice immediately the suggestions that she had given him. He did not revert to the poor stance he had been using when she first barged in on him, even though she hadn't reminded him of it when she showed him the circle step. Though he fumbled a bit at first, he repeated the motion — in his head as well as his hands, as best she could tell from his furrowed brows — until he had it down. And he didn't use his actual chi until he had become comfortable with the motion. This boy really was quite smart, and talented. Perhaps he just hadn't had a good teacher until now. She fanned herself absent-mindedly with her cane-free hand at the fair amount of heat still very apparent in their windowless training space.

"Zheng," she repeated after him, learning his name. That was good. A connection had been made. The name had a fascinating bit of irony too; from what she knew of anthroponymy, it meant "the just one" or "the proper one." Here was a young man, downtrodden, given the dregs of life's tea, and still making the most of it. He was respectful of his elder (Sora could only be sure of the one at this point in time), polite, and a quick learner.

Sora was jarred out of these thoughts by a sudden question from Zheng, which furthered her good opinion of the boy and his name. There was more to him than met the eye originally. He had been cultured, perhaps, at least once upon a time.

The import of the question sunk in and she put a finger on her chin as she considered the question. "Take a break now," she commanded, as Zheng finished a set and waited for her response. Then she wiped her brow of sweat and sighed. "...Well, honestly? For a couple reasons. Firstly because it is shameful to see the young and talented set their own bar so low and settle for poor quality in their own work. Your bending was powerful enough to catch my attention from outside, but when I came in you were just... so... WRONG." She chuckled a little bit at herself for that. "Which doesn't really matter, because I've seen firsthand that with proper teaching you pick up technique faster than a starving rat picks up a fallen sweetroll.

"And the second reason, I suppose, is because it's a tradition. In my father's old tribe in the Fire Nation, firebending was passed down from parent to child, and in our family line it was always from mother to son and father to daughter. He learned it from his mother, and taught it to me. Well, my daughter Piri isn't a bender, and she's grown up and with children of her own. I never had the responsibility and the joy of passing on the fine traditions of the art of firebending. So perhaps, I'm 'making do' with you, if you'll pardon the expression."

She studied Zheng seriously for a moment. "Pro bending. That's what you need. Some real competition to bring out your most latent talents. These dummies are fine for practising for now, but you'll reach your threshold with them quickly. And that's one area where I can't help you. At my age, dodging around is a bit out of the question. I think I already popped out my hip. Not that it's the first time, of course. There was that day just last month where I was walking down by the docks and I slipped on just a small little puddle of some sort of primordial ooze, probably from some mutant fish, if they'd only clean out the canal once in a while. It reminds me of the old stories about those horrible fish in Jang Hui, if I'd slipped on one of those I would probably dissolved like fresh bread in a vat of acid." She laughed hysterically at her great joke, and then looked back at Zheng, not quite realising she had slipped into rambling senility. "Well, don't just stand there, you've had your break. Do another set."

The Fox's Den, Southwest District

The way Kayako scolded him drew his lips to a tight close. The serrated edge to her words, the furious gaze she centered on him and the way she had drew a breath in before unleashing her discipline reminded him of something familiar. A defensive grunt was caught in his throat, but he couldn’t find himself to act upon it. She had cornered him to silence. He had a hard time matching her eyes, ever so slightly angling his view towards the ground like an apologetic child. The Black Fox was right. He didn’t understand the gravity of his situation- at least, he didn’t before. Like knives, the knives before, her pointed speech drew blood from him and it hurt. She made a hit against his intelligence and he stumbled. He never was too confident of his smarts, but the way she had pivoted on that point and crushed his earlier retort was fatal. Frowning, he continued to listen, bobbing his head up and down, unable to speak back.

Jun felt her seize his hand. He was confused, petrified as to what she was going to do. A beating heat surged through his cheek as his hand clapped hard against him. His eyes widened. She had just slapped him with his own hand, the sudden realization luring a surprised gasp, one that was throatier, like one of a thirsting man in the desert. His hand slid down his reddened face and fell limp by his side. Respect was the keyword she reiterated. That word had haunted him. His brothers had used it whenever he left the house. His father had used it whenever he went against his wishes. It was a word that contained a lot of power and once again, he was hearing it.

With her last threat, Kayako had left him alone.

“Three days.”

Jun wiped his sweaty hands.

Kayako, the Black Fox, took a slow breath in as she turned the page of the book she was reading. The characters revealed a story of two nations at war; a work of fiction based on the world's history. Their battles were epic, their strategies, intriguing. There hadn't been a page that hadn't held her interest yet, but she broke her gaze to look at the warehouse door.

She'd been getting reports from the others and, though she'd instructed them not to tell her whether the boy was successful or not, she was getting the feeling that he was.

From the way people talked about her, she might as well have been made of ice, but...if they only knew. People didn't necessarily take requests so well when asked nicely. Would she have the kind of coffers she did if she asked nicely? She might not have been the most popular person in Republic City, but then again, was the government really doing its job of keeping its citizens in line? Her record with the Southwest District was a testament to that.

It didn't help that she'd had to hear about the Bender Wars from her father, and now that there was a fuss being raised about benders, she was almost happy that said fuss gave her more freedom to run the streets the way they should be run. She might not have had as many supporters as the Equalists, but by the spirits, she would make her mark on her little slice of Republic City.

[/b][/u]

Yuriko glanced back at her father to find him still staring at her as if she'd done some wrong. Maybe she had. Hiding her frown, she turned back to Mr. Yuan. He seemed to be thinking over her question. "I hadn't made plans for this," he admitted. "I just wanted a quiet place to read." She followed his gaze about the street and then his cold blue eyes rested on a building. It had been abandoned for several months at the least. A quiet, secluded spot, but the auburn-colored girl didn't exactly feel like burning down any buildings today.

"Let us see if that parking lot is empty," Mr. Yuan said with a gesture. She nodded and let him lead the way. A parking lot was much better. The girl almost wanted to wish there would be shade, but she knew that wouldn't be good at all. As a firebender, she should enjoy the heat and power of the sun, but instead she just sweated a lot and hoped for clouds. But maybe it would give Mr. Yuan a better chance to show what she knew... Which honestly wasn't much.

The man posed a question and followed by telling her about himself for a moment. "I can read all the books on bending there are, but it is something I will never do. That's what fascinates me."

Yuriko nodded politely again, wondering what happened to his voice in that moment. She'd never heard an accent like that, and she wasn't sure why Mr. Yuan chose to hide it regardless. In any case, she was being paid for her skill and knowledge, not her opinion. "The first time..." she started, looking at the banners of all nations hanging from the buildings. "It's one of my earliest memories.

"I was six. My sister was arguing with my dad, and I was getting really upset. I tried waving my hands around to stop them... And fire just came out." she shrugged. It had, at least, stopped the argument. She looked back at the man. "I'm okay at creating fire just abstractly, but I've never fought with it. My parents used to, and my sisters do, but it just never seems to work with me..."

It was hard to admit it, but she was being paid to. She didn't like wondering whether she was jealous of her family's skills or just wishing her own to improve.

Disused Storage Warehouse

His companion repeated his name when he told her it and seemed to be thinking about his question as he continued the sets she had given him to perform, the movements becoming much more comfortable and fluid with each time he did them. He was genuinely surprised over how quickly he had picked it all up, the stance and the movement sets he was doing right now. When he was younger and still under the tutelage of his father he would normally mess up even the most basic forms, which was followed by much shouting and, if he was lucky, a bruised dream. If he was unlucky, he would acquire several actual bruises.

Just as he finished yet another set, Sora asked him to take a break in a commanding tone. Automatically he ceased his training and stood up ramrod straight before relaxing again, collecting up the stray hairs that had escaped the topknot on his head and rearranging them so that they were out of the way of his eyes. Even now, he could still almost feel his father's angry breath on his neck, whispering curses in his ear for not doing what he was told. Zheng was beginning to wonder how long it would be before he would be able to get away from the shadow his father had cast on his past. He had doubts that he ever really would.

Sora began her answer to the question he had posed to her, telling him that he had been setting the bar so low for himself and that he was talented, but that when she had come to join him he had not been exactly exceptional. Zheng had never really considered the bar he had been setting for himself. He had simply been practicing at the only level he had known he was good at. He had not realised that it had been low. In hindsight, perhaps he should have known; with the teacher he had, how could the bar been set any higher?

When Sora mentioned that the right teacher could help you more, he gave a little snort of amusement to himself. "Evidently", he said, nodding at what remained of the dummy he had destroyed thanks to what he presumed was Sora's instruction.

When she stated the second reason, he raised his eyebrow. Was this lady living out a desire through him? Well, he did not mind so much. At least he knew now that he was not taking advantage of her kindness and that she really wanted to do this. He could not help but feel skeptical about 'family traditions' when it came to firebending.

"In my experience, family members should not really teach each other. They tend to get... over-invested in the student's progress", Zheng commented quietly. He decided not to expand his statement any further than that.

Sora carried on to say how pro-bending would help him to find his real talent and Zheng found himself agreeing with her. After all, all of this was in aid of finding a team and getting into the arena, it would make sense that when he was there he would be able to pin down his strengths and weaknesses when fighting against other pro-benders. He had been about to say as much when she barked at him to continue his sets. Yet again his automated response kicked in and he practically jumped into his stance, rotating his arms and producing the fire at his fingertips.

"The arena is actually the whole goal of this, actually", Zheng confessed, not pausing in his exercises. "If I can find a team. I know I could certainly use the cash."

((Sorry it's so short))



"You're not an aggressive woman, that much is obvious."
Mugen looked for a place to sit and watch and found a suspiciously out of place stool which he swept off and sat upon.
"Something must have driven you at the time. Try to hold that memory when you bend. Theory states that an inner fire, metaphorically speaking, is what allows one to firebend. What drives you? Why do you wake up"

Beneath his feet, painted on the sidewalk was an unfamiliar gang tag which distracted him. It wasn't one of the major triads such as the Triple Threats or Red Monsoons and therefore held no value for Mugen.

"Forgive me. I am not a bender. All I have are books and a head full of theories. I don't like to see untapped potential...especially in benders. I suppose I am a bit jealous. Please proceed."

[OOC: Don't worry about it =) ]



Yuriko made her way a several feet from where Mr. Yuan placed himself. His first comment wasn't unfounded, and she couldn't disagree with him without putting herself down. Instead, she simply nodded. The man continued. "Something must have driven you at the time. Try to hold that memory when you bend."

The young florist nodded again. She didn't think of the memory frequently, but it was a hard one to forget. Mr. Yuan continued, "Theory states that an inner fire, metaphorically speaking, is what allows one to firebend. What drives you? Why do you wake up?"

Yuriko held a palm out before her, upturned to the sun, and in a moment a small ball of flame appeared. Though it wasn't anything special, it was still visible in the light of the sun. She had to think hard on his question, and before she could think of anything, Mr. Yuan spoke his apologies. "I don't like to see untapped potential... especially in benders. I suppose I am a bit jealous. Please proceed."

"Don't apologize," she said softly. His questions were valid, whether he was a bender or not. She stared into the fire, watching it dance in the breeze. "I suppose... the beauty of the world. I wake up and wonder what I'll see, what colors and shapes. I wonder what I can read and learn about. I wonder what sorts of people will be around, and why they exist."

She focused her gaze on Mr. Yuan. "I see the beauty in fire. I could watch it for hours." Unfortunately, she never did. Yuriko tried to make the fireball grow, and for a moment it did, but its unruliness intimidated her and it flickered out.

Frustration flooded her, as it usually did when she tried bending. This time, instead of focusing on beauty, she turned her thoughts to her father's angry face, her sister's screams of rage, and her own fear. The fear it was her fault, that she would be harmed in her innocence. Yuriko shifted and punched a fist out, but the resulting flame was a mere wisp, and she relaxed out of her stance.

"But beauty isn't enough to make me a better bender."

Mugen had to smile. Not only was he not a bender he was in no way a passionate man. Strong emotions were few and far between for Mugen Yuan. It was truly a case of the blind leading the blind.

He scribbled some shorthand notes in his new notebook and tapped his pen on the pad rapidly as he thought about Yuriko's words on beauty. Inspiration was something he knew little of first-hand so he had nothing to draw from.
"Can you throw any fireballs? If I were to put you in danger would that help? Perhaps-"

The young criminal's words were cut off by the sound of a lead pipe scraping against the ground held by what looked like a second criminal with less fashion sense. A shaved head and sunglasses did nothing to toughen up the image of the skinny teen with acne.
Mugen saw no reason to be respectful to criminals with no real power.
"Unless you are a representative of the Red Monsoons or the Triple Threats please go away." He reached inside his pants pocket and tossed a one yuan coin at the teen with the pipe.
"My rent for this space. Now leave us."

Shouted profanity and pipe swinging were the teen's answer to Mugen's perceived mockery. The first swing smashed the chair Mugen sat in but the second might as well have been in another parking lot. Mugen didn't notice the third swing as he was preoccupied with how Yuriko would react. When that swing connected with his left arm and left it throbbing in pain he took notice.
Mugen looked at the teen with the closest thing he had to anger. Mild annoyance."I'm going to kill you now."

Yuriko shifted from foot to foot as Mr. Yuan scribbled on his notepad. For all she knew, he was criticizing her freely, and she had no way to stop him. Was he commenting on her hair? She instinctively reached up to a curl and spun and smoothed it with her hand. He seemed to be thinking hard. Had she done something wrong? Obviously, she had, considering her utterly horrible firebending abilities that he was paying her for.

"Can you throw any fireballs?" he spoke up. But Yuriko didn't have a chance to reply as he continued. "If I were to put you in danger, would that help? Perhaps-"

His words frightened her, and his sudden cut off even more so. Her pale eyes snapped up to him and immediately followed his gaze. It was a boy who dressed roughly and looked cruel. It was then she heard the noise - a hollow scraping - and saw the pipe being dragged along the ground. The noise was incredibly eerie and it sent a cold chill down Yuriko's spine.

She finally broke into a full sweat, but the sun felt chilly and the girl began to shiver. A villain, she thought as her heart raced. He's a bad guy. The look on the boy's face was unmistakeable. He's going to hurt Mr. Yuan and then he's going to hurt me. She clenched her teeth. Her day wasn't supposed to be like this... She was just a florist, she was a good girl! Daddy was right. You couldn't trust anyone.

The blood was rushing in her ears so loudly, she missed why Mr. Yuan was tossing a copper coin at the boy, but a second later he swung. Yuriko shrieked, but was frozen in place. Her breath caught in her throat. It isn't supposed to be like this! The thug kept swinging, missing once and checked by Mr. Yuan's arm.

And then came a cold, horrible voice. Who spoke the words, she didn't know. That terrified her even more. "I'm going to kill you now."

"S-Stop it!" the girl screamed. She tried to run at them, imagining shoving fistfuls of fire at the attacker. But her legs felt weak and it was too cold (Why am I so cold?) and she only struggled a few feeble steps, like she was walking through thick mud. "Please, leave us alone!"

And then she thought of how the twins would react. They wouldn't think. They would move and take down the enemy before he knew what happened. A roaring sensation filled her, and she took two firm steps and breathed in deeply. As she exhaled, she swung one arm down, sending an arc of fire towards the two, followed up when she spun and sent another with her opposite hand. The fiery X blazed at them both, she suddenly realized with horror.

When Mugen found the left sleeve of his jacket aflame he wasn't quite sure how to feel. He was glad to see the ruffian on the ground rolling around trying to smother the flames he took the brunt of but was less so about ruining his coat.
Seeing Yuriko bend with such ferocity made it a net gain but he could not enjoy it. Not with a throbbing arm and a direct insult to criminals everywhere at his feet.

Mugen brought his steel toed boot down on the man's ribs and kicked him over onto his back. One of the arms of his assailant was still burning. Mugen pinned it to the ground with his boot along with the other and sat on the man's chest while he burned.
"Foolish. Utterly foolish. I understand your desire to protect your territory. I respect that. I would have done it with more subtlety but I can't fault you for that. You do NOT, however, confront two unknown entities without at least some knowledge of what they are capable of."
The fire crept a little too close to Mugen's boot and he moved it closer to the man's shoulder. He then pulled a folding knife from his burned jacket pocket and flicked it open with practiced speed and made a small incision in the man's forehead, then another, then a third until a bleeding "Y" appeared. Two more lines and the punk would have the symbol of Republic City's currency carved on his forehead. Yuan.
"You should have taken the money. You would have been one yuan in the black and one less scar in the red."

((continued from here)

On the Way to Jin Ho's Apartment &, once we get there, inside

[/center]

Jin Ho was surprised, but at that point, he was also pretty close to crying in the middle of the street — which would just put a horrible cap on a horrible day. Determined to make it back to his apartment in one piece, he squared his shoulders and walked with straight, even posture. He was sure that once they got to his apartment, Mizu would be embarrassed by his crying, but at that point he couldn't bring himself to care.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that it surprised him when the Waterbender spoke.

"Look, I'm sorry. I guess I was expecting you to say no all along. I didn't actually expect you to like me, that's for sure."

"Well, that's —" Jin Ho didn't know what to say. Mizu was cute, and nice. Why wouldn't he think that Jin Ho would like him? It seemed silly, but then again, the policeman was no stranger to thinking people wouldn't like him, so he knew he oughtn't say anything. He himself was surprised that Mizu liked him. "It's okay," he said, after a moment of silence. "I probably am not communicating well with you."

The walk to his apartment wasn't that long, and they reached it sooner than he'd realized. Jin Ho took his keys out of his pocket and let them both in, dropping said keys in a small ceramic bowl that sat on a table by the door. "Um, sorry it's a little messy," he said, before showing Mizu inside.

His apartment was small, but well-organized. He'd made the most of the space, adding storage to walls or cabinets where he needed it. There was a mantle, on which a photograph of Jin Ho and his parents stood in a place of honour. The young man clearly took after his father, who was beaming next to him in the photograph. It was taken on his graduation from the police academy, and his parents were proud. Jin Ho looked younger, hair in a loose and soft ponytail instead of his normal braid. He looked very different.

A hand-made quilt was draped over the sofa with an open book in front of it. He'd been reading a mystery novel. Apparently by 'messy' he meant the mug next to the book and the rumpled state of the quilt — not much else was out of place. The apartment still smelled like the spicy soup he'd eaten earlier in the day on his lunch break, and Sweeper's old bed was still sitting in the corner, empty.

Jin Ho hung up his jacket, deliberately avoiding looking at the dog's bed. He went to the kitchen to make tea because he didn't know what else to do.

She'd hit them, both of them. She'd hurt someone! Tears sprang to her eyes and fell over her hot cheeks. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to!" she cried out weakly as she watched the two men burn. Her legs could not hold her any longer, and she collapsed, barely catching herself with her hands. She felt exhausted, and was panting as if she'd run around Republic City. Her palms ached from the fall, and she knew she'd ripped some of her dress. "I'm sorry..." she whispered.

Daddy's going to be so angry at me... she thought as she sobbed, curls hiding her face as it drooped. There was a rushing noise in her ears like the ocean. He'll throw me out and hate me like... She couldn't continue her thought. Instead, she rocked back on her legs, face cast down, tears wet on her cheeks, cold arms trying to warm each other.

"Foolish," came Mr. Yuan's voice. So soft, but so cold it broke the air and made it to her ears. She found the strength to raise her eyes and saw Mr. Yuan sitting atop the burning thug, pinning him down. This was all her fault. She shouldn't have tried it, she shouldn't have even thought it! "Utterly foolish."

Yuriko knew he didn't make a sound, but it was as if he were screaming. What she saw seemed so cruel, so wrong, that she dared not turn her eyes away. Mr. Yuan had a knife. He was going to kill the boy as he burned. The girl just stared with her vision half the time blurred with tears. She watched as he sat there, letting him burn and start to shriek, and then saw him draw his knife across the boy's throat, and blood shot up from the ground, and then she saw him turn to her with black all across his face and his cold blue eyes shining out at her and he was smiling and he stood up and —

No. That wasn't real. He wasn't coming towards her. He was still sitting on the boy, whose jacket held only smoulders, not flames. And Mr. Yuan was cutting his forehead. She couldn't see what through her tears. It still frightened her, as did his words, still cold and cruel. "You should have taken the money."

Yuriko shuddered and shut her eyes. "Please don't hurt me," she whispered, over again and twice more, like a prayer. "This wasn't supposed to happen." In her mind's eye, she watched them burn, again and again, and soon she couldn't tell who was a hero and who was a villain. Maybe it was bad guy against bad guy. But where was her Prince Charming now?

Disused Storage Warehouse

"Well, yes, of course, didn't I just say that?" Sora replied, exasperated. Honestly, young people these days, not paying any attention to what their wiser and older people were saying to them. Wiser and older people? Where? There was nobody older than Sora... and not many people wiser. She started looking around, confused, before she remembered that Zheng was still doing a power set of yongxian huo. "Right, that's enough, Zheng. We'll find the old people later. Take a break and let me explain a little bit about what else I want you to work on."

She composed herself carefully, knowing that the next thing this willing young firebending pupil would need, would require her to have as much balance and acuity as possible, given her age. She could still kick out some good flames when the situation called for it... but this was passive, not an emergency where she had the advantage of adrenaline in her system.

"The technique you just learned is the simplest form of a type of firebending made famous in my father's tribe by my grandmother. It is called yongxian huo, which means 'the flowing flames.' As you probably know, normal firebending is accomplished by using a balance of overpowering force and unflinching will to direct your chi. Yongxian huo is an unusual variant of firebending, however, wherein the level of your chi and the amount of your will determine the force of the bending. It's... how might I explain it better. It's like, instead of using your right hand and your left hand to push a book across a table, you use your left hand and the book to push your right hand across the table.

"There are two major advantages to yongxian huo. First, you need not focus on the force of your bending — in other words, don't practice large maneuvers and overpowering strikes. This force will come naturally when you have a higher will to win or succeed, that is, you believe more than anything that you will come out on top; and also when you build up your chi. You have an unusually high level of chi for someone your age, which is of course how I took notice of you. Secondly, yongxian huo actually draws on stylistic elements of waterbending, so your opponents will not anticipate your attacks.

"I am about to teach you an offensive form," she went on, pausing briefly to cough loudly for several seconds. When she was finished, she went on as if it had not happened. "Pay attention to how the movement is smooth, but small, and yet the force... well, you'll see."

She turned well away from Zheng and centered herself, drawing all her chi to her core, behind her stomach; but she prepared the pathways of her legs for the quick travel that the chi would be doing. Then she half-turned her body back toward Zheng and began the form: her right foot moved at a moderate speed in a smooth circle, her hand coming up to the level of her chest for the first half of the circle and pushing back down for the second half of the circle. Just as the circle closed, her head and torso snapped partway around to face her target — away from Zheng — and she pushed her hand forcefully down and forward, past her hip, as her foot slid forward quickly in a firebending kick, the outside of her foot lifting while the inside stayed on the ground. The resulting flame grew to her height as it moved forward like a tidal wave, hitting empty crates stacked three high on the opposing wall in less than a second, and turning them to ash almost instantly.

I probably am not communicating well with you.

Didn't that explain most of their issues? Their seeming inability to communicate well with each other?

Before he knew it, they were at an apartment, and Jin Ho let him in. It was nicer than his apartment, that was for sure, and he couldn't help but look around. He set the bottles down on a table and waited until Jin Ho went in the kitchen to make his way to the mantle. He stopped in front of its only decoration: a framed photograph.

Obviously, it was Jin Ho in the center, albeit a few years younger, standing between a good-looking woman and...he had to stop. Was the man to the police officer's right his father? The son bore a striking resemblance to the older man, and the Waterbender couldn't help but wonder if that's what Jin Ho was going to look like when he got older.

When he stepped back to take the whole picture in, his focus turned to the other two people in it. These were his parents? These were the people who honestly expected, nay, demanded, that he marry a woman and produce grandchildren? He turned back to the living room and, grabbing one of the bottles, he sat down on the couch and waited for Jin Ho to return from the kitchen.

Mugen stood up from his sitting position upon the bleeding and flaming teen allowing him to beat the flames away. The second the fire was smothered the assailant...the younger, poorly dressed one, ran. It was disappointing not having the opportunity to give his name and use that as a warning to others.

A disappointed sigh wasn't far from Mugen's lips as he squatted beside Yuriko. A jacket and now his opportunity to observe and document bending gone up in smoke.
As smart as he considered himself the criminal with the soot on his face and slicked back hair didn't know how to handle crying people. His mother had cried in front of him before but he wasn't about to embrace a total stranger and sing to her.

Fire, bleeding people, crying people...it was practically a siren drawing unwanted attention. Abandoned places didn't stay abandoned for long after an incident such as this. He produced a white handkerchief from his pants pocket and handed it to Yuriko.

Despite the setbacks to his day off Mugen still refused to go about the hardest of his duties, pretending to be a nice guy.
"Your accuracy and control were sub-standard but you produced fire when you wanted. That's good."
He stood and offered his hand to Yuriko. A tiny bit of chivalry wouldn't kill him.
"We need to leave before people start asking questions."

At that moment he would have given the entire roll of yuans on his person to end the awkward situation before him.
"Come. I'll buy us dinner." He paused and thought about the state of himself and Yuriko. "After we clean ourselves up. I have a place nearby."
Two of Mugen's rules contradicted. He vowed to never let anyone aside from trusted lieutenants to his apartment but he also vowed to avoid jail. This wasn't his most elegant crime and even if self defense was evident he still did not want police attention on his day off of all days.

The Dragon Flats District was not that far away. Closer than the dumpling shop, the clinic or any other place Mugen was safe from scrutiny. Although, if his mother was there a different kind of scrutiny would be applied. One where a life of prison seemed preferable.