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It’s strange how quickly time slips away once the world stops burning and people stop trying to kill you.
Two months since the war ended, and I still catch myself listening for the sounds of battle in the distance. Instead, there’s only wind and waves - and Lest’s voice humming somewhere nearby.
Peace feels quieter than I thought it would.
I miss the sounds.
The first few weeks after we left were a blur of salt and sunlight. Somewhere along the way, Lest mentioned that we were close to her home. She said it like it wasn’t a big deal, tracing the map with her fingertip, but I could tell by the way her voice softened that it did mean something.
Family is important to her… to most people. To us. We learned that. Don’t forget.
When she asked if I wanted to stop, I pretended to think about it before saying yes, just to tease her a little. Truthfully, I was nervous. Meeting her parents felt… intimate. Like stepping into a part of her life I hadn’t earned yet. I can’t remember the last time I met someone’s parents… or even a friend’s? She was my first girlfriend so I couldn't compare this, but I knew it was serious.
If she is your forever, so are they. Build relationships.
Their home sat on a small rise above the sea, a cluster of houses wrapped in the scent of brine and lavender. Her father met us at the town dock. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with rough hands and kind eyes. Before I could even tie the boat down properly, he was already giving me a list of sailing tips and warnings about storm seasons. I think I turned red halfway through at the idea of a Waterbending pirate needing tips on how to sail. I’ve been at sea most of my life, but I just nodded and smiled, letting him talk.
Be kind. Let him speak. He means well. Do not be grouchy. Remember what you’ve learned.
Her mother came next - she was gentler. She pulled me into a hug before I could even introduce myself and sent us off the next morning with packs full of dried fruit and smoked fish. She had the kind of warmth that reminded me of what home used to feel like.
I miss them… so much.
For one night, I let myself just be. No captain. No healer. No Avatar. Just a girl at her girlfriend’s family table.
Breathe.
Watching Lest with her parents was something I didn’t expect to affect me so much. She looked different there - lighter, softer. I think that’s when something inside me deepened. I already loved her, but seeing where she came from… who raised her, it made that love settle somewhere deeper in my chest, steady and certain.
We left at dawn. Her parents waved from the shore until they were only specks on the horizon. The sea was calm that morning, glassy and blue, and the breeze carried the smell of home just long enough to make my chest ache.
Maybe I’ve forgotten how to exist when nothing’s falling apart.
Lest stood beside me at the helm, hair tangled by the wind, grinning like the world had finally decided to give her something good. I think that’s when it really hit me, we were on our way. No more waiting, no more wondering what came next. Just open water and the long stretch of the world ahead of us.
The next stretch of ocean was easy sailing - eerily easy. The water felt calmer than it should’ve been, the winds steady and strong, the kind of travel sailors dream about but never get to have twice. Lest joked that the Spirits must have been feeling generous. I didn’t say it aloud, but I wondered if she was right.
When I was saying goodbye, the Moon Spirit did mention that the Ocean Spirit would watch over me and my return to the sea… but I was so caught up in leaving and receiving Haku’s will, I hadn’t given it much thought until now.
Another Spirit, offering to help.
How I managed to go years with nothing but silence from the Spirits, to now having them surround me at all times… I will simply never feel worthy. I think about that night often, the night when I learned I was the Avatar. Even after all this time, all this war, and all this loss… it still doesn’t feel real.
Or right.
The Moon Spirit mentioned that the Ocean Spirit already knew me. I’ve been trying to remember how that could be. Maybe it was during one of those nights I almost didn’t make it back to shore. Maybe it was in the stillness between storms, when the world felt like it was holding its breath and I was the only one listening. Maybe I met them a long time ago and just didn’t realize it.
The ocean has always felt familiar to me. Not safe, exactly, but… understanding.
It listens when I talk, even when no one else does.
After losing everything I once called home, the sea was the first place that truly felt like mine again. And now? I'm back with the girl I love.
I remember one afternoon not long after we’d left Lest’s home. The sun was high, glinting off the gentle waves, when Lest leaned too far over the side of the boat, pointing at something in the water with excitement.
“Careful!” I called, my heart leaping. “Lest - don’t - !”
Before she could topple completely, I let a thin ribbon of water curl around her, lifting her gently back onto the deck. She landed with a soft thud, sputtering and laughing.
“I meant to show you!” she gasped, brushing her damp hair from her face.
I crouched beside her, still holding the water’s edge just in case, and pressed my forehead to hers. “Next time,” I murmured softly, “maybe point without nearly killing yourself?”
Her laugh was quiet, breathless, and I couldn’t help it. I leaned in, letting our lips brush together in a tender, lingering kiss. Her hands found mine, fingers intertwining, and for a heartbeat the world shrank to just us, the boat, and the sunlit ocean around us.
When we pulled back, her grin was sheepish but bright. “Okay… maybe next time I’ll stay closer to you”
The waves lapped gently against the hull, the salt air filling my lungs, and I thought, this could be enough - just her and me, right here, right now.
And yet, even in that perfect little moment with my everything in my arms, a part of me still ached for home. For the faces I’d left behind, for the friends and family I couldn’t check on. But for now… I’d let myself simply be here, with Lest’s hands in mine, the ocean beneath us, and the sun warming our shoulders. It was enough. It had to be.
We made landfall a few days later. A quiet port town that smelled like salt, oranges, and freshly baked bread. The streets were narrow and uneven, built from sun-faded stone that gleamed gold beneath the midday light. Children chased each other through the market, and old sailors leaned against barrels, telling stories that sounded more like songs.
It should’ve felt peaceful. It should’ve felt safe.
Lest was in her element, wandering from stall to stall, bartering with vendors, laughing with strangers like she’d known them her whole life. She fit anywhere the way sunlight fit through clouds. She was effortless, warm, impossible not to notice.
I trailed behind her, pretending to admire the painted shells and trinkets on display, but my mind was somewhere else entirely.
Home.
The word still felt strange when I thought about it. Not because I didn’t have one - I did. It felt strange because I didn’t know what it meant anymore. Was home a place, or the people I left behind? I always thought it was the people, so why do I find myself longing for my cave? Camp Haku? The Valley of Peace?
But maybe… it wasn't those places. Maybe it was the memories I made within them. The people I made those memories with.
I’d tried reaching out to them during my meditations in the last few weeks. To Keiko, Sona - even just a whisper of connection would’ve been enough. But every time I closed my eyes, it was quiet. No presence. No warmth. Just the hum of the ocean beneath me and the pulse of my own heartbeat echoing back.
I kept telling myself it was just distance. That they were busy. That it was fine. But there was always this voice in my head asking the same question over and over: What if they’d already moved on without me?
Realistically I've never spoken to a human on the mortal plane without a boost from the Spirit World… but it can't be impossible, can it?
“Zuri?”
Lest’s voice had pulled me back. She was standing beside a food cart, a skewer of grilled meat in her hand, looking at me with that soft, puzzled expression she got when she knew something was wrong but didn’t want to press too hard.
“You spaced out again,” she said gently. “Are you okay?”
I blinked, realizing she’d been talking for a while. I couldn’t even remember what about. “Sorry,” I said quickly, rubbing at the back of my neck. “Just tired, I think.”
She hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. Long day.” But her tone had shifted - quieter, thinner. The kind of quiet that comes right before a wall goes up.
We found a place to eat after that, a small corner café overlooking the harbor. I’d tried to start a few conversations, small ones, about the food, about the colors in the sky, but everything came out flat. Lest smiled and nodded, but the light in her eyes had dimmed.
It wasn’t anger. It was something worse. Distance.
I could feel it growing between us, subtle but certain.
That night, while she slept next to me, curled up in her blanket, I sat up awake listening to the waves crash against the docks. The town lights flickered in the distance, and I could smell the salt in the air. Sharp, familiar, almost comforting. I used to love that smell. Now it just made me ache.
I’d been so caught up in trying to reach the people I couldn’t touch that I hadn’t noticed the one person who’d been beside me this whole time. The one who’d chosen to be here.
And yet… I’d made her feel alone too.
I told myself love was enough. That just being together was enough. But when I really think about it… love isn’t supposed to be quiet like this. It’s not supposed to feel like distance you can’t cross. Love’s something you keep choosing, even when it hurts. Even when your heart’s already somewhere else.
When she fell asleep, I just sat there watching her. Counting her breaths. Trying to remind myself she’s real, that I’m still here. I reached out and tucked some hair behind her ear that fell in her face, whispering an apology she couldn’t hear.
I promised her I would be there for her. That I would catch her if she fell. Yet here I was, letting her slip through my fingers more and more each day.
I’ve failed her once before. I won’t do it again.
Tomorrow, somehow, I fix this.