If Yuji didn't know better, he might think his teacher was trying to exhaust him more than strengthen him.

The cold weather had been one thing: training kept your blood flowing, and winter air served as a fast way to cool off when over-exerted. But with the change in weather and ever-increasing difficulty of lessons, Yuji found himself pushing more every time they met. He couldn't, of course, complain too much. He was getting stronger, and he knew it. Any of the most recent lessons would have been far beyond his capabilities half a year past. Charumati had been wise to his abilities, but she didn't coddle him. He appreciated that, truly.

But today seemed to add an extra step to the staircase.

When she told him to meet near Makapu instead of their usual (more convenient) venue, he internally groaned so emphatically that it was a surprise his sensei had not heard. And with such a light meal, he'd had a lingering worry that the heat of the morning sun might waste him away. As it was, his internal grumbles and whinges were long since burned away by mid-morning. By the time Charumati called him to take a lunch break, he simply felt grateful for the chance to wipe the sweat from his brow and recap the day's progress with the older woman. Training had a way of helping the young nonbender clear his mind of such self-defeating thoughts. Though tiring, it left him feel more grounded, more focused. Even the recent events of the city (the missing benders returning as nonbenders? How does anyone survive such a tragedy...) seemed so much less important than his current mission.

He'd managed to catch his breath by the time the woman returned with, surprisingly, some flavored seltzer water - she was normally a stickler for water - in addition to a tray of food. Before he could smell or even see the contents of the bowls, Yuji's stomach suddenly let out a growling rumble. He couldn't hold back a somewhat sheepish grin, and he bowed his head so low and fast in thanks that it nearly whapped the ground from his seated posture. As much as he'd like to discuss today's training, he really wanted to eat.

Still, diligent as ever, he waited for his sensei to prompt him, a gesture of permission, before he began to serve himself. He watched her for a moment, then copied her movements with a lemon wedge of his own, being careful not to spray the juice everywhere and incidentally causing a pair of seeds to fall onto the noodles. After retrieving said seeds - wouldn't want to mistake one of those for a nut - he allowed Charumati to take what she wanted before sprinkling a generous serving of peanuts into the bowl. It was only after that point that Yuji dug in, ravenous. Though not an especially "fancy" meal, he felt it more delicious than anything else he'd eaten in a long time. (Especially given his cooking... Couldn't even really call it a talent, not even after months of practice...)

Charumati's voice cut through the near-hypnotic state the food had grabbed him in. Some kind words of praise followed by.... Chi blocking!?

In his training-oriented brain, the words took a moment to sink in. Then one cheek full of noodles, Yuji punched both fists skyward, chopsticks held aloft with morsels of food still stuck on them. "Yes! Finally!" the young man cried enthusiastically - well, as enthusiastically as one could with a mouth full of grub. Though his mouth wasn't exactly able to grin as joyfully as he felt, his eyes gleamed, yellow-gold orbs flashing. "That's so awesome!"

A bean sprout fell from on high into his lap, and he suddenly seemed to realize the utter lack of professionalism in his actions. Hastily, he quickly brought his fists back earthward, laying the chopsticks delicately across the rim of the bowl and removing the fallen sprout from his trousers. Yuji tried his best to swallow down his mouthful quickly, succeeded though admittedly quite painfully, and, abashed, pressed his hands firmly together in front of his chest. Cheeks blooming pink, he bowed deeply again, not once but twice, and said much more clearly, "I... mean... Thank you, sensei. I'm honored by your assessment."

Yuji worked his brain to shove down the overwhelming feeling of gladness, of his heart seeming to swell (his new master was already so trusting and... even proud of him?), with the idea that he was an adult and needed to have better emotional control. He looked back up at the woman, trying to stop that damned childlike smile from reaching his lips. It made his eyes shine instead. "Please forgive me. I..." Yuji's words stuck in his throat, and he wrestled his feelings, hoping he didn't look like a dumb kid who was just given a sweet. He found a path and took it. "I'm really grateful you should think so highly of my training, and I'm excited to learn more from you."

He nodded, figuring that would have to be okay. At least he hadn't made a fool of himself even more. He resumed his lunch again, deliberately taking small bites to avoid half choking himself in case Charumati had other news for him, and he watched her. Still, he couldn't keep away racing thoughts of learning chi blocking from her. The little daydreams (and, indeed, they were dreams - ever since learning of Charumati's Equalist ties, he'd fantasized about being taught how to defend himself the Equalist way) made the corners of his mouth twitch with attempted smiles. He tried to keep them down, but they just kept curling up...

Charumati laughed — an unusual occurrence. Impulsively, she reached out to ruffle Yuji's hair. The young man was behaving adorably, like a kitten who just discovered string or a puppy trying to howl for the first time, and her heart warmed.

When she spoke, her soft voice had a noticeable note of affection. "You don't have to be stoic, Yuji." It was, perhaps, a bit odd coming from her, considering her usual demeanour; but, that had less to do with trying to be tough and more to do with the fact that Charumati was just a very serious person.

"I know that the image of the stalwart warrior is ... romantic. And pervasive. But a warrior who feels nothing, a warrior who cannot express joy or sorrow privately, is no warrior at all. Your ki, your fighting spirit, is stronger when you feel. You must learn to strike a balance between controlling your emotions so your enemies cannot manipulate them, and allowing yourself to stay true to being human. When you don't..."

Charumati glanced at the door, her voice dropping so only Yuji could hear, "... then you turn out like them." The tone of her voice wasn't disparaging, or even a warning, but ... sorrowful. "The Monks of Koh give up their attachment in this life, much like the Air Acolytes and Air Nomads. In giving up their attachment, they become part of something bigger than themselves — they all do — but they lose what makes them like us. A Monk, no matter how good their technical skills, would never be able to fight with the drive and purpose of someone who wasn't. Even Avatar Yangchen is less renowned for her prowess than Avatar Kyoshi, the latter of whom had both feet planted firmly on solid ground. No pun intended."

She continued, taking small bites of her noodles while she spoke. "We must continue to allow ourselves to feel, especially when our enemies are benders. Their chi, their life energy, is directly tied to their power. A child with no training can set fire to a building in a tantrum, or cause a rockslide. Benders train specifically to hone their chi to be able to direct their element effectively. In turn, we must channel our chi into our own fighting, even if the elements are not at our beck and call."

"So smile, Yuji. Be proud of your accomplishments and rejoice if you are happy. Cry if you are sad. Then take what you feel and use it as a reason to keep fighting, even when it seems as if hope is lost."

After a few more bites and a sip of her seltzer water, Charu spoke again, this time inquisitively. "Have you finished that book I gave you?"

Yuji's teacher reached out and ruffled his hair. An innocent gesture, to be sure, but the young man was taken aback by how nostalgic it felt. There was a flash of memory - big sister mussing his hair in the same way, though it often became tangled due to the fact that it was considerably longer - and then it was gone. He was a bit surprised that he didn't feel at all embarrassed by it. It was actually kind of nice.

Of course, she took on a bit of a scolding tone... but it took him a few moments to realize that she was chiding him on his lack of feelings, not his brief, happy outburst. He flushed when she mentioned the word "romantic" (he was not trying to be romantic), but he forced away a protest and really started to listen to her. She'd taught him a lot in the short time they'd already been together, and he was learning to appreciate what she said, even if it sort of sounded like a lecture.

Very different from his parents' teachings. They tried to understand a nonbender perspective, but of course they never really got it. It always sounded so pompous and preachy when they got going. This would often cause Yuji to start tuning out and dismissing what they said. He swallowed and forced his focus back to Charumati. He didn't interrupt her, but instead munched on his own noodles as she went on, practicing what he started to think of as "active" listening by nodding at appropriate moments, turning his gaze to where she directed hers and returning when she looked back at him.

As she finished, indicating that he should feel his feelings and express his happiness (and anger and sorrow and all the rest), Yuji felt his scalp tingle where her fingers had been. "Yes, sensei," he said seriously. His tone was not one of abashment, but instead one of agreement and understanding.

He looked over at the doorway, head just tilting to the side as he did, and considered her words. The book she'd gifted him had outlined such a detachment of the Monks. They were so devoted to being servants of their people that they gave up their families and friends, their identities, to the cause. The way that Charumati put it... It made him think on how much he had shed without a cause. Though the book indicated that, historically, Monks were often Galgori-born, he wondered how many were not. How many Monks had once been like him, disillusioned from the bending culture they'd grown up in and reoriented to help those less fortunate?

Then, as if she had been reading his thoughts, Charumati asked him if he'd finished the book. He returned his eyes to her and nodded. "Yeah, I did. I kind of had a question about it, actually."

He took a long drink of the flavored water (sweet, but surprisingly refreshing) to clear his mouth, waited for his teacher's permission, then continued. "So the Galgori haven't really been seen around for a while, at least, like, if you ignore all the rumors of the Six right? I mean, I figure you probably don't have an answer for this anyway. But why are they here now? Why are they even in Republic City?"

He took a quick bit of noodles and continued. "I mean, the book was pretty clear on the Monks being there for the Galgori. But Republic City isn't exactly a Galgori hub, you know? They help out the nonbenders - and don't get me wrong, they're doing good work - but those nonbenders aren't Galgori. So it makes me wonder why, you know?"

Yuji watched his sensei carefully, relishing the light breeze that whisked his hot sweat away, taking bites of noodle and sips of water in the meantime.

Charu turned her full attention onto her young pupil, setting her chopsticks down gently.

"Yuji," she said softly, "the United Republic is built on the backs of the Galgori. We were subjugated by the Fire Nation long before Sozin attacked the Air Temples, and when we broke free from our bondage we settled here. Almost every nonbender in the United Republic, and every nonbender who has a nonbender ancestor who came from the area now known as the United Republic in the last two hundred years is descended from the Galgori."

"And that is why the Monks are here. Maybe their people no longer listen to the Six. Maybe few still understand the meaning of having Koh as our patron. But look at how many nonbenders gravitate toward the Monks, toward Koh, even though the Monks set their hair on end. The Monks still serve their people, even if their people no longer understand why."

She looked at him then, her face grave once more. "It's likely you are too, somewhere along the line. It's possible that your family is entirely bender over the last two hundred years and produced one single anomaly, of course... You tell me. Are there any other nonbenders directly related to your parents? Grandparents, great-grandparents, great-great grandparents? If so, then you probably have Galgori blood in you too."

Picking up her chopsticks, Charu added, "Of course, there's only one way to really tell. We could ask a Monk."

At first, Yuji's ears clung to his teacher's phrasing. "We"? Why was she referring to herself as Galgori? The culture hadn't really existed for several decades at this point. But as she went on, he started to understand what she was getting at... though he was still confused at her words. He sipped at his beverage, brow furrowed. It was a bit strange to consider, that such a large proportion of nonbenders could trace roots back to the ancient group. He tried to think of some other group of people with similar ancestral groups but couldn't - big sister would have known. Him, not so much.

She went on, and the pieces slowly fell into place in his mind. Yes... It would make sense, come to think of it. No matter how little Galgori blood one might have, the Monks were a devoted group, that was certain. In the past, would they have turned their backs on someone with one-half Galgori blood? Someone with even one-eighth, or one-sixteenth? No, he thought not. Serving Galgori was their solemn duty. Yuji supposed he'd simply never thought about it in terms of heritage. He'd always been raised to believe that the Galgori were almost like a group of spirits. More real in history books and fables, a silly tale in today's society. Not a people that might spawn family lineages, bloodlines that reached into living, breathing nonbenders.

But when she insinuated that Yuji might have Galgori blood in him, he wasn't sure whether to shake his head or laugh aloud. She asked about his family, whether there were other nonbenders, and he finally let out a scoff. "The Song family? Nonbenders? Hah." He had to fight to keep the derisive tone from his voice, if only for his sensei's sake. "I mean, half of them are firebending Sozin worshippers - were, I mean. Not exactly the kind to buddy up with the Galgori." He recalled his grandmother (indeed, a firebender herself) and her stories of great-grandfather in the Hundred Year War - a colonel, even. How he had descended from warmongers, flame-breathing killers of the innocent. The memory of listening to the old woman's words, those big sister considered tales of fame and glory and he of death and destruction, sent a cold finger down his spine.

He realized he was clenching his teeth and forced his jaw to relax. He took a long drink of the fizzy water to keep his teeth from grinding back together. He forcefully pushed a deep breath through his nose, trying to calm his mind. "It's just... my parents didn't exactly sing the praises of all the nonbenders in the family, you know? I'm not even really sure if there are any other ones. They seemed pretty proud about all the benders, you know?" He shrugged but still had a bit of a hard time meeting Charumati's gaze. Him, a Galgori? Not likely. From the little he'd read of them, he understood they were trained warriors. When his teacher had taken him in, he wasn't much more than a street urchin, a squirt. Didn't that sort of thing carry through generations?

His sensei then suggested that they ask a Monk, and Yuji looked up sharply. A Monk knowing about someone's past? How exactly did that work? Of course there were tales that Monks could read whether a baby was a bender or not. But something like seeing whether someone had specific ancestors? Even if you did believe that the Monks had some sort of mystical power granted by Koh, the idea of viewing the past like that seemed a bit... well, crazy.

"I guess so," the young man replied doubtfully around a (smaller) mouthful of noodles. "I don't exactly see what that would do, though. I don't even really know who my ancestors are. I don't know how a stranger would figure that out." The thought of a Monk knowing more about him than he did would make them seem even more creepy. A scary concept, to be sure.