Ashes to Ashes (Avatar: The Last Airbender Fanfiction)

[Pietro BlaXimoff]

CREDIT TO: Angelt626

Fire.

Hot, burning, life-stealing flames raged before him. He could only watch as the element that he despised razed his entire village to the ground, flames flickering merrily. They seemed to taunt him as he glared hatefully at them, as if to say "This is what we do, and you would do well to remember it." He choked down a sob as he realized that he had no one now: his father had died years before in the war, his brother had been taken in a siege, and he hadn't found his mother among the few people who had awoken as he had to find their homes burning mercilessly to the ground. He scanned the faces of the others standing with him, seeing varying emotions ranging from shock to anger. "Maybe she made it out and thought I had too," he whispered to himself, refuting that thought as quickly as it had come. No, if his mother had awoken to smoke suffocating her as he had, she'd have done everything she could've to get to him; as it was, he'd been lucky to make it out alive himself.

The flames had already swallowed up more than half of the decently sized hut that he and his mother lived in. He coughed violently, his eyes tearing up from the upheaval, and he sucked in the fresh air greedily as he ran as fast as he could manage. When he was a safe distance away and could no longer feel the penetrating heat that emanated from the fire, he looked back at the only home he'd ever known in time to see the rest of it turn black and fall to the ground. His only hope was that maybe she'd gotten out, that maybe she was waiting for him.

Once the flames had begun to dissipate, the few adults that had survived the catastrophe began to move numbly, jerkily, through what had previously been their home, their village. Although he'd been instructed to remain on the outskirts of the village where it was safe with the other kids, Jet ignored that order the first chance he got and raced toward where his home had been. As long as he didn't know, the idea would only haunt him, and he had to know for sure what had happened to her. Rather than picking through the charred, blackened mass of wood and debris, he moved around the outside of it, towards where he knew his mother's and father's room had been. Sucking in a deep breath, he began to carefully pick his way through the mass, praying he wouldn't find her here.

"Jet, what are you doing?" a shocked voice asked him. He abandoned his search long enough to find Len, a good friend of the family, standing nearby with a sad look on her face.

"What does it look like I'm doing, making tea? I'm looking for my mom," he sniffed angrily as he turned back to his task. "And don't even think about trying to stop me." He continued to heave more wood off to the side, Len surprising him by assisting, when he caught a glimpse of it: a blackened husk of a hand wearing a silver link bracelet. His heart plummeted to somewhere far below where he was standing; she never went anywhere without that thing on, and he rarely remembered a day where she hadn't been wearing it, only short moments. Blinking tears away, he grasped what was left of her wrist, taking care not to clench his hand, as he removed the bracelet, ignoring the woman's eyes as they started. Only when he'd removed the piece of jewelry did he stand on shaky legs, doing his best not to gag or cough at the smelly smoke that invaded his lungs and stung his nostrils, stating "I want to bury her. All of them, actually." He didn't have to look to know that his friend had followed him.

"Jet, we can't. As it is, we're down to so little supplies and--"

"I don't care! I said I wanted to bury them!" he screamed as he lashed out at Len, who was standing in front of him. To her credit, the young woman never said a word, letting Jet's fists pound into her repeatedly before slowly enveloping in a hug. His punches slowed before stopping completely and turned to sobs as he broke down, his legs giving out beneath him. "It's n-not f-f-fair," he cried, tears sliding down his cheeks and soaking Len's smoke-scented tunic.

"I know, it isn't fair," the woman agreed with a nod as she rubbed his back soothingly. Jet's sobs gave way to hiccups as the pair of them sat together in the rubble.

"How could they do this?" he asked eventually, sitting up a bit and wiping at his cheeks, cursing himself for being weak in front of someone else.

"I'm not sure why, but I'm going to find out."

"They won't get away with this," Jet whispered fiercely.

"Don't do anything stupid or something that you might hate yourself for later," Len replied, having heard the note of promise in Jet's voice. She'd known the younger boy for years, having helped to watch him as their mothers journeyed to the market. He'd always been exceedingly stubborn and headstrong.

"Why not? It's not like they wouldn't deserve it. They took my father from me, they stole my brother, and now they've taken my mother from me too. So tell me, Len," he spat with contempt, "why shouldn't I? They've stolen everything from me, and from you too, and you deserve revenge on them just as much as I do, if not more so."

Len's head bowed as she took in his words, knowing that he was right. Her mother had been taken in the same siege that Jet's brother had been taken in, and her father had also joined the war front as well, though there was no news as to whether he still lived or was dead. Her two brothers had gone to the front lines as soon as they were able, and she'd received news that both of them had been involved in a brutal massacre from the Fire Nation upon their camp as they'd travelled. But while she understood Jet's pain, his anger, his fury, his need for revenge, for action to be taken against their enemy, he was only a young boy, and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if she let him, he'd get himself killed. He might survive for awhile; he'd always been a bit of a scrapper, but the likelihood that he would reach marrying age, find a wife, have a family of his own, wouldn't even be a consideration. They would snuff out his life quicker than an open flame, and she refused to let that be the case.

She knelt on the charred ground so she could look at him properly. "I know you're angry, and I know you hate them. Believe me, we all do. But if you do this, you won't be yourself anymore. You'll be lucky if you make it to 15 before they kill you. I'm begging you, Jet: please just stay here. Don't do anything rash until I've convened with the elders and we've come up with a plan of action, and that might take a few days, all things considered." She watched as he crossed his arms over his chest and his jaw clenched; she could practically see the gears turning in his head. "I can't make any promises, Len, but I'll try not to."
With a sad smile on her lips, she kissed the top of his head in a loving gesture. "That's all I can ask. Do you mind waiting with the other kids while I see who's…" she trailed off, the end of her sentence hanging; the rest didn’t need to be said.

He nodded jerkily, hot anger flaring through him again as he caught the meaning of her words. He turned around and walked to where the other kids were, fists clenched and his body tight with tension and anger. He mulled over Len's words to him as he walked, knowing where she was coming from, and he appreciated and could understand it. Were their positions reversed, he'd have asked the same thing, but he couldn't just sit by and do nothing. He did some calculations in his head, hoping that he could catch whoever it was that was responsible for this and realized that whoever did it was was most likely long gone; he had no hope of catching them anytime soon. 'And even if you did, how would you be able to stop them? You're just a kid, you can't even fight,' a little voice whispered to him. "No, but I could learn how to, and that's all I care about," he said aloud.

His eyes looked over at the group of kids, seeing that most of them were crying and sobbing, as he'd just been doing, and he couldn't fault them for it. He wanted to say something to make them feel better, but didn't know what; he was still far too angry and anything that he said was likely only to make them more upset. By his count, most of them still had family left, which was good for them, but his last remaining blood family member had just been ripped from him. He swallowed hard and knew there was no other option: he would have his revenge. This meant that he would inevitably have to leave the village, and subsequently break his somewhat promise to Len, but he had to do it. He would seek out someone who could train him on how to fight, how to get food and survive, and he would get what his heart was desperate for.

He would have his revenge.