Nirav was gone again and the apartment was quiet. Charumati had thought she had made a mistake by inviting Nirav to stay with her, that she would miss her solitude; now, the apartment was almost too quiet.

Thankfully, she had met Yuji. While the relationship between herself and Yuji was less familial than she had come to think of her relationship with Nirav, she still enjoyed the young man's company and something about his determination to crawl out of the lot the bender-biased world handed him lit her own passions. Their first lessons had gone well, and while it was clear that Yuji hadn't had any sort of training tailored to his needs, he was a hard worker and Charumati thought she had discovered a diamond in the rough.

Dressed in her martial arts outfit, her hair swept up into a bun, Charumati began cooking a light breakfast. Their sessions didn't normally include a meal, but the last few days had been harrowing and quite frankly she was glad for an excuse for the company in the aftermath on the attack on the Temple.

She had been at the Times when the attack occurred; a breathless young man had burst into the break room where she was pouring herself a cup of tea, calling for Hua Nianzu, the Times' chief on-scene reporter. Not long after she left, the editors called for a building-wide meeting. Charu had just been pulling on her coat when it was called, and begrudgingly made her way to the conference room, only to find out the building had been put into lockdown.

The memory of it still infuriated her. She had tried to leave anyway, but several security guards had stopped her, saying it was unsafe for her to leave the building. She had wanted to laugh in their faces, almost regretting not bringing her glaive. But she needed the cover of the Times, needed the reach her article gave her, so she stayed put.

Charu was just pulling the mackerel off of the heat when a knock sounded at the door. "It's unlocked!" she called out.

When the door opened, she greeted her guest with a smile. "Good morning, Yuji," she said in her soft way. The table was set neatly for two. A plate of mackerel, a bowl of rice, some miso soup, a couple of small squares of dried seaweed, and a rolled egg a piece.

At her beckoning, Yuji let himself in. Warmth and fragrance rolled over him, and he returned her greeting ("Good morning, Charumati,") before shrugging off his coat and hanging it up on a hook. He stepped out of the entry into the living room, which seemed large for an apartment. Instead of one wall, the kitchen stood adjacent, another large room with various ingredients strung from the rafters. It smelled well-used, but in a good way, much like a cast-iron pan with its various oils and flavors baked into it over the years.

"Smells good. Thank you for the meal," he muttered as he sat down. It looked good as well, and he waited for Charumati to seat herself before digging in, starting with the egg.

"I'm trying to teach myself how to cook, but I keep burning things," he said between mouthfuls. It was hot but tasty. It reminded him of his mother's cooking. He blew on and sipped at his miso soup, quietly slurping as he felt the broth warm his stomach. He didn't feel all that much better, and couldn't find the words to make more small talk. The idea of trying to talk about what happened at the temple... what he'd seen...

Yuji found himself staring at his meal, chopsticks poised over his bowl. He didn't notice their subtle tremble and couldn't remember whether he had just dropped a clump of rice or hadn't picked one up yet. He tried to ignore the way his lips began to feel heavy and his stomach to flip, and he ate to tamp down the ache in his chest. Yuji's hands started feeling weak, and he started to take steadily more breaks, staring at the place setting in front of him, trying hard to stop thinking, chopsticks twitching in his limp fingers.

While Yuji attacked his food with the gusto that she expected in a growing young man, Charumati was not wholly prepared for the sudden change in his demeanour. After a few mouthfuls, his hand grew limp, the chopstick stilled, and he looked a little green around the gills.

Concerned, she put down her own food and leaned in from across the table. Out of instinct more than habit, she put the inside of her wrist up against Yuji's forehead to check his temperature and placed her other wrist on her own forehead to compare; satisfied that he wasn't feverish, she stood and poured him a glass of water and dropped a bicarbonate tablet into it.

"Here," she said softly, handing him the glass. The water was tepid: not too hot, not too cold. The tablet fizzed and created bubbles. "It will help settle your stomach, at the very least."

She sat back down and folded her hands, looking at him intently. "In your own time," she said softly. "What's wrong?"

He was surprised to feel her touch his head, as if he were ill. He frowned, cheeks growing a bit pink, but didn't comment. It was embarrassing to show such weakness. But she still offered him glass of fizzing water, and he sipped at it humbly. The tablet didn't help either, though of course nothing really would. The things he'd seen upset him, not ailed him. He wasn't sick, not really.

He was sad. He was angry. He had seen terrible things.

She wanted him to talk, and the glass of water started feeling heavy. It was almost funny - What's wrong? What isn't wrong? he sardonically thought. He didn't ask many people how they felt, though, so maybe it was just polite to ask. He sipped the heavy water again, still watching his food. Silly woman. She probably didn't even know what had happened. She certainly didn't see what had happened.

Yuji had helped at the temple the first day, doing what he could given his minor medical knowledge, and Charumati had not been seen at all. He'd taken sparse naps in quiet corners for an hour or two when he could before he was needed again. He worked overnight and well into the next day, trying to make up for the dearth of volunteers. Trying to keep innocent victims alive, draining wounds, changing soaked dressings, staving off infection, listening to groans of pain. Trying to lift the spirits of fearful souls, though his felt increasingly downtrodden. Charumati had not been found.

"Tired," he finally mumbled, being honest. There was more he could say, but he didn't know how. Besides, it was a day to train, not a day to talk about his feelings. He took another sip of the fizzy water. It was starting to help. He took a careful bite of the mackerel, then of rice. "I can train."

It was hard to pretend he felt sincerely well, though. Yuji finally looked back up at his sensei, keeping his emotions masked on his face. "Why didn't you help?" His voice, soft, faltered.

Yuji claimed he was tired, which Charumati thought might be more soul-tired, as her grandmother might say, than physically tired. Whichever the case, he did look under the weather. Eventually, he asked the question Charumati had been expecting from him.

Why didn't you help?

She set her chopsticks back down and looked at him sadly. "I work for the Republic City Times," she began, her voice full of sorrow. "It was a position I took over two decades ago, partially to give nonbenders a voice in the paper, and partially for the Equalists. But recently..." Charumati swallowed, then looked at Yuji intently. "What I am about to say must not leave this room. It is a hunch, at best, but a very well educated hunch."

When the boy gave his agreement, she leaned back in her seat and continued, staring up at the hanging herbs on her ceiling. "I believe that the RCPD is influencing the Times," she said flatly. "During the attacks, I attempted to leave once we received word. Armed guards stopped me. Officially, they weren't part of the Force but I saw the metal canisters on their hips. I've seen enough of them during my missions to know what they are. The building was on lockdown and surrounded by security. 'Unsafe', they said. The only person allowed to leave was the field reporter that covers the Dragon Flats District, and her satomobile was escorted."

She looked back down at her plate. Her hands, which had been resting on the table, had been balled into fists. "This isn't the first time the RCPD has interfered with the Times, but it's never been so forward as to send agents."

"I came later, though," she added. "But the Monks stopped me from entering Temple grounds." There was a bitter note to her voice as her hands clenched tighter. Charu smiled humourlessly. "I'm still a field agent, technically, and the Monks had sponsored my entry into the Equalists. They want me at the Times and they thought if anyone saw me at the Temple it would jeopardise that."

Yuji wasn't all that impressed by her excuses at first. Still, lips pulled to the corner of his mouth, he decided to hear her out and nodded for her to continue. The young man was a bit surprised when she looked up and away, as if the drying herbs had answers for them. Answers... or perhaps peace? Yuji normally didn't pick up on these sorts of things, but her slowly building anger started to become palpable, and he began to understand.

The cops... he thought, the visage of big sister flashing behind his eyes. It couldn't have been. She wasn't a metalbender. And, as much as the nonbender hated to admit it, his sister wasn't exactly geared for violence. If anything, she'd be on the Times' side if it came down to it. He frowned, idly flipping over grains of rice with the end of a chopstick.

Still, Charumati mentioned she did come by, but the Monks refused her. He watched her and listened carefully, thinking. It didn't seem like a good sign if the Monks wouldn't let her help. They needed the help. On the other hand... If what the woman said was true, it made sense. It probably wasn't the best way to approach the situation - why couldn't they say something like "have the Times make a donation" or "send out bulletins that we need more help"? For a moment the anger in him flared.

But then he started relaxing, her words processing in his head. They helped her into the Equalists, right? If the Monks would do that, Charumati must have a much different job required of her. Yuji sighed, nodding. "I understand."

A moment passed and Yuji's gaze still pressed on his platter. He finally reached out to the seaweed and nibbled at its edges. "Maybe that's why the cops didn't show. You'd think they'd investigate or something. I guess if they make you guys say they're doing something," he mused, referring to the workers at the Times, "then they don't really have to, as long as some people believe them." He wondered if big sister knew. He wondered if she cared.

He bowed his head, one hand rubbing his forehead in agitation. "Sorry..." he mumbled, the uncommon apology sounding out of character. "It was really hard. There weren't enough people. We... couldn't help everyone..." His thumb massaged a temple, and his stomach began to turn again.

Charumati swirled her soup in its bowl as Yuji murmured about how hard taking care of the injured had been. He started to look a bit queasy again, so she reached over and patted his hand. "Don't force yourself to eat," she said gently. "I'd rather have you take this with you than have it wind up in the drain." She nudged the bicarbonate mixture closer. "Just sip this, even a little bit. It should help settle things."

She took a bit of her egg and chewed it thoughtfully. "I think the police are in denial, at least in part. Acknowledging the situation occurred would be two fold: admitting they ignored the warning signs of brewing unrest, and acknowledging that this was a show of force meant to intimidate us and show that the Six have no power in Republic City which would mean that the police would have to acknowledge the rumours of the Six at all."

The bitterness crept into her smile. "There's a gag order on the Times," she added. "I have been forbidden to publish any content relating to or mentioning the rumours of the Six, as have my colleagues. Usually gag orders are issued due to ongoing investigations so as not to prejudice the public, but in this case it was to... what was it...? Ah, yes, to 'avoid inciting unnecessary widespread panic over unfounded speculation'." Charu rolled her eyes.

She swirled her miso soup in its bowl for a few moments before speaking again. "I am sorry that I could not be there, Yuji. You must be disappointed."

Yuji did as the woman bade, lowering his kneading fingers to sip at the fizzy drink. It did help his stomach, as much as it probably could. "It's fine," he mumbled. He realized he really was hungry - the injured had needed what little food the Monks had more than he - but... it was hard to want to eat. Still, he sipped at the beverage and continued nibbling at the food.

As she continued, the young man started to wonder how much of his tumultuous emotions were from sadness or grief and how much from anger and disgust. He shook his head bitterly. "Right, like an attack on a hundred people doesn't cause panic at all," he scoffed. His head kept moving back and forth, very slightly and without his notice. "I'm not mad at you or anything. I just..."

Yuji set his jaw, and closed his eyes, trying to still his thoughts. What was it big sister did - meditate? He wasn't exactly the meditation type, but taking a few deep breaths through his nose seemed to help him relax. After opening his eyes, he took another, larger sip of the fizzy water, feeling more fortified than he had been. No, it wasn't Charumati's fault. She would have been there. The attack wouldn't have happened at all if the cops weren't so deluded, if they'd actually taken action on what the public said instead of ignoring them like ostrich-horses with their heads in the sand. If they actually gave a wink about nonbenders.

"I bet you wouldn't be kept quiet if it were a bunch of benders being attacked," he mumbled, and shoveled the last of the egg into his mouth, washing it down with the water and feeling the bubbles snap on his tongue. Then a gulp of the soup, hot and salty-smooth in contrast. "I just figure we're going to need fighters more than ever. Maybe less people would have gotten hurt. Maybe they could have defended themselves."

He considered how much stronger he'd felt over the last few weeks, before the attack at least, and wondered how much this could have been avoided if he could have helped others feel just as strong. Feeling steeled, frustrated, angered, Yuji determinedly began to dig back into his food, trying to swallow back the sensation of having not enough time and instead focusing on the flavors and textures, the generosity of his sensei, and the thought of becoming great enough to do something about this wretched city.

Despite her normally stoic countenance, Charumati grinned at Yuji's sarcasm. Ah, the unfetteredness of youth! She had always been a reserved individual, but her tongue had been much more obviously sharp when she was her pupil's age. Time and experience hadn't dulled the blade, but made it more of a hidden weapon.

"No," she agreed. "They would not have kept it quiet. They didn't when we Equalists were fighting to remove the Triad leaders from power, and those are supposedly the seediest underbelly of this city. No..." Charu took a long sip of her miso soup. "It's a miracle that the attack on the Temple got any press coverage at all; if it had only been a handful of injured I seriously doubt they would have allowed the story to run."

A few of her contacts within the RCPD had confirmed her suspicions shortly after the attack: two calls had been received by dispatch from the Temple, but the urgent nature of the calls had somehow gotten "lost" when making its way up the chain of command.

Yuji began eating with renewed vigour, and Charumati smiled again. Perhaps she was getting soft, but it filled her with hope to see such a strong sense of justice in one so young that it could push back against the queasiness of a first battle and renew ones appetite. She remembered her first fight against other people, when she wasn't much older than Yuji. It had been after she had spent a night in an abandoned buzzard wasp hive, only to find that it already had inhabitants: a band of earthbender thieves who were terrorising a local village. They had tried to steal her meager possessions, figuring that a young woman alone in the desert could do little against a dozen of them.

They were wrong.

When she had cut them all down she had doubled over and was violently, horrifically sick. For days she was unable to eat, until she arrived at the village with the recovered possessions. An old woman missing almost all her teeth had collapsed at Charu's feet, sobbing in gratitude for returning the jar of coins she and her husband had set aside for their dotage — she had been planning to use the funds to pay for his burial.

That night, Charu ate well and heartily.

Turning attention back to her breakfast, Charu made quick work of her fish; her chopsticks moved deftly over the meat, leaving the bones immaculate. "Yuji," she said, her tone thoughtful. "Hypothetically, let's say that you found one of the perpetrators of the Temple attack one night. You're in a secluded area, and you're both of similar height, build, and ability. What would you do?"

"We Equalists" was an interesting phrase, he pondered as he took a few drinks of the fizzy water. He nodded in agreement, but couldn't think of a response. He was familiar with her fighting prowess, but it was still a bit surprising how easy it was to discuss the Equalists. In this day and age, admitting you had Equalist leanings was a dangerous thing. Of course he was living in what was once Equalist barracks; of course she trained him with methods most likely taught to and by Equalists. But trust was hard earned in the city. He felt honored that she so believed in his integrity, but he still felt a sort of ingrained sense of being watched.

But the way she sad his name caught his attention, and he looked up at her instinctively. He tried to copy the way she daintily took a bite of fish and ended up drawing a pin bone out from between his teeth. She seemed genuinely curious, and it took him a few moments to think. He supposed he had thought of the situation countless times, so his immediate instinct would be "attack". He tried to separate the compelling bursts of angry thought from the scenario itself, rolling the bone between his fingers, the needle-like point spinning on the tip of his tongue. "How would I know they attacked the Temple?" came his first mused question, aloud but very soft. Perhaps the person was wanted. Unlikely, unless the RCPD decided to have a distinct change of heart.

He decided that, in this imaginary scenario, he must have overheard the person (An earthbender, he thought decisively) discussing his work with a sense of pride. He must have become angry and followed the person from their social setting, presumably home, perhaps to another Temple. Similar ability... he thought, eyes moving to and fro as he pictured the scene, the pin bone placed forgotten beside filet where it once stood. Nighttime. Away from a main road, perhaps an alley or courtyard. An alley might be best and most probable. Often, only two ways in or out. Courtyards might have three or four, and as many doorways as needed. "I'd make sure he didn't see me first. Or if he did, he forgot about me." Yuji had to admit, it was easy for him to blend in. He wasn't especially tall, he dressed plainly, wasn't particularly handsome.

"I guess I'd need to stop him from bending any way possible. Benders don't fight as well if they can't bend. If I can't do that... I'd try to make sure he wouldn't hurt anyone else. Knock him out or something." He shoved a chopstickful of rice in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed before continuing. "I figure the cops won't help much, but if I could, like, incapacitate him, maybe he could tell me who his accomplices were." Not that he really wanted to think about what it would mean to get that information. "If all of the attackers were turned in, wouldn't the police have to pay attention?" Mei Ling would, he thought, having the sense to keep it to himself.

Charumati waited as Yuji considered her question, murmuring to himself as the hypothetical scenario played out in his mind. When he replied, it was with — heartbreakingly — a final grasp at trust in the system.

Her expression was grave. "Would they?" she asked softly. "A hundred people were injured at the Temple, and every single person interviewed, including those not injured or involved in the attack, say the Triads came together. Over a hundred witnesses with the same story. The Monks report they requested help. Do you doubt the Monks' word?"

It was a rhetorical question, she knew. Neither of them, even with the unnatural nature of the Monks of Koh, doubted their honesty.

"They do not pay attention, even so."

She nibbled at her seaweed. "You cannot take in the attackers at once alone. How do you bring this information to the police? The man thinks you aren't worthy to lick the mud off his boots, so he will not cooperate and will likely lie. How will you get the police to listen?"

Charu looked at her young charge with sorrow. "There are those in the department who are sympathetic to us, but aid would never be sanctioned. How many police, do you think, are in the pockets of the Triads? Whether minorly, looking the other way as they hustle some lowly merchant; or majorly, making crimes outright disappear?" She smiled sadly. "So you see the dilemma we face. Without aid from the RCPD, everything we would do to help bring justice to the attackers would be illegal. Possibly punishable by incarceration."

She set down her chopsticks and looked at Yuji intently. "The path of an Equalist — the path of a true Equalist, not the bastardised version that Amon created — is difficult. You must be uncompromising, unyielding in your beliefs. You must never lose sight of the fact you are fighting not just for equality, not just to make sure we all have the same starting point, but for equity: to remove the barriers in the system that make nonbenders second-class citizens."

The woman looked around her apartment. It was homey, but it was clear that whatever her arrangements now, Charumati had been living alone for quite some time. There were no photographs of friends, no family mementos, nothing to signify that the occupant was connected to anyone else in the entire world.

"It can be a very lonely road. Are you prepared for that? Prepared to do things that will isolate yourself from others? To make sure the movement stays covert, away from the eyes of the police and the council?"

No was the word that kept ringing between his ears. No, he didn't doubt the Monks' words, not at all. And, as she spoke, Yuji began to realize, brow furrowed, that his imaginary scenario wouldn't be right. No, anyone caught wouldn't just 'fess up. Though his teacher's questions were cold and critical, he knew in his heart that it wasn't personal. As any good sensei would, she was instructing him. He listened wordlessly. No, the police would not listen, not to a street rat nonbender like him. He'd look like just another one of the "delinquents" who attacked innocent benders in the dark.

Eyes narrowed, he looked back up at Charumati and found her watching him, intense and sorrowful. A true Equalist? he pondered, listening carefully to her fervent words. An interesting feeling washed over him, one he found foreign, almost unrecognizable, as she spoke. It wasn't quite relief... A word struck him, validation, which seemed more fitting. He agreed with the way she spoke, felt as if he wasn't quite alone anymore, felt like his beliefs were more valid because they were shared with another. He nodded just once in agreement, quite serious. He did want to break down those barriers...

But then Charumati began to ask him things, ask if he were prepared to be lonely, to be isolated, to be secretive. It seemed almost silly to say such things, and he couldn't help himself but smirk.

"Lonely," he said softly, amused, head listing just to one side. It wasn't a question. "I was prepared to be lonely the day I abandoned my home." The words were more personal than any he had spoken to Charumati. Perhaps to anyone. Unconsciously, his feelings melted away, became locked behind bars of some secret compartment of his mind. It made him feel stronger, more steeled, though he assumed it was from some cold anger. Not at Charumati, of course. He trusted her. In fact, he quite thought he liked her. Could trust her.

"I mean, I wanted to come here," Yuji continued, very quietly, eyes lingering thoughtlessly on his plate. His tone leaned towards sardonic, almost bitter. "It's not like I left behind some loving, accepting family surrounded by friends who really just got me..."

A moment passed, and he looked back up at her, feeling unsettled. "I kind of thought Amon was the real thing. Like he was someone important, who would protect or guide us or something. But he was just another bender. So, like, I was pretty mad, but it's not like I have anything to lose, not after that." His thoughts turned to big sister, and he didn't like it. Yuji dashed the thoughts away, imagining the victims of the attack on the temple. The thought of her, she who worked with the police, sitting by while benders hurt nonbenders helped chase out his concept of her as his "sister". No, she's just another bender... he thought unhappily.

Finished with her meal, Charumati began carefully stacking her dishes together. Yuji looked a little lost in thought, despite his answers, so she gave him a few minutes of peace while she took care of her breakfast things.

When she returned, she crouched next to Yuji and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "We always have something to lose," she said softly. "Our freedom, our lives... our dignity." Her look was soft, understanding. "Our lives are not worth less than those of others. We must live for ourselves and for our integrity. Perhaps some may die for the cause, but throwing away your life only deprives us of a bright future. Please remember that."

It wasn't quite what Yuji was saying, she knew, but the 'nothing left to lose' mentality was something she had seen when she was training other young equalist recruits. Lonely, abandoned — either literally or shunned by bender relatives — they were ready to lay down their lives with no thought for themselves, believing in the greater good.

But it made them reckless, shouldering too much burden. Some of her charges had been captured needlessly, others had died, simply because they thought they had nothing to lose. A small pang of sorrow constricted her chest, and she tightened her grip on Yuji's shoulder.

"You must promise me," she said, her soft voice rough with emotion. "That you won't play the hero. There is nothing wrong with fleeing so you can fight another day."

It was kind of Charumati to give him a moment to think. He picked at his food aimlessly, though there were only really scraps left. The experience of the temple was like a wound that hadn't quite healed yet. It itched, making his brain keep trying to scratch at it, and it was hard to go about his day without being reminded. It was still difficult to keep that experience from painting the rest of his thoughts and emotions. He thought of the children at the temple, the young girl who had already lost her mother, and he supposed that he should consider himself lucky.

Yuji gently pushed the dishes away, all but the teacup. Around its rim he drew a forefinger, tracing its smoothness, now only warm instead of piping hot. His hand clasped the cup now, soaking in the feeling. Charumati was at his side, and her own hand on his shoulder seemed to ground him, bring him back to the present. It felt warmer than the last dregs of tea, and he had a striking sense of affection from her. Her voice was filled with emotion, which startled him more than the physical touch.

He continued gazing at his teacup as he listened to his sensei, at least until he felt her fingers clench. He looked up at her, saw the serious sternness in her gaze. The hero... he pondered and, after a moment, nodded. "Of course not," he said, and the softness in his tone startled him. He hoped he didn't sound dismissive, and nodded again more firmly. "I promise I won't play the hero."

Did he mean it? Yuji's thoughts flitted to the scenario she had presented him and his gaze faltered. Perhaps he'd know well enough that, if the time came, he'd make the right decision... Another thought occurred to him. "I mean, I have you, right?" He smiled at her almost shyly. It felt genuine - a rare enough occurrence that it seemed difficult to maintain. "I could never disappoint my sensei," he added, only half joking.