Jinyong made a cup of tea for the two of them when they arrived home. the fragrance was strong, calming, even he sipped on his before giving Asami hers.
Asami sat on the edge of the desk, her mask tossed aside, her face pale under the dim workshop light. She hadn't changed out of the Equalist uniform. The green fabric clung to her like a reminder she couldn't shake off.
Jinyong placed the cup beside her and crouched down. He looked up at her. She didn't look back. Her eyes were distant, lost somewhere far beyond the floors of his workshop.
He reached out, wrapping his hands around hers. They were cold. "You okay?" he asked softly.
She pulled away fast, turning her face aside. "Don't… you know the answer."
Jinyong let out a breath and sat back on his heels. "Talk to me, Asami."
Her hands clenched tight on her knees. "What do you want me to say? That you were right? That my father's working with a bunch of terrorists?" Her voice cracked. "And I have to sit here and act like it's fine?"
She pushed off the desk and began pacing, every word sharper than the last. "You know, somehow I'm only half surprised. After what happened with my mom… I get why he hates benders. I really do. But this?" Her voice wavered. "This is a mockery of her memory."
She laughed bitterly, rubbing her temples. "If any of this gets exposed and his excuse to me is that he did it for Mom… I don't think he ever loved her. I think he's just full of hate."
Jinyong didn't speak. He just watched her, eyes soft but heavy.
"And how can he just act normal?" she went on, her tone breaking. "Eating dinner with me. Smiling. Asking about school. All while he's out there helping people who want to wipe benders off the map." She looked at Jinyong, eyes wet. "That's genocide, right? That's what this is. He's helping another Sozin."
Her breathing came fast now. "Was everything he ever said to me a lie? All those talks about fairness, about building a better world—what does that even mean anymore? I don't know what's real and what's not with him anymore, I—"
"Hey, hey." Jinyong stood, stepped closer, and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Calm down, Asami. Please."
She didn't push him away. Her shoulders trembled under his touch.
"I just… I don't know," she whispered, voice breaking. "I don't know."
Jinyong pulled her in. No words. Just his arms around her.
Her breath hitched against his neck, and then the tears came. Slow at first, then more. The front of his shirt dampened, and he just held her tighter, one hand gently tracing circles on her back.
The tea beside them had gone cold.
Neither of them noticed.
—
The rain came not long after. A slow drizzle tapping against the metal roof of the workshop. They were both now in bed, cozy. Asami had cried for a good while, and Jinyong had made sure she felt comfortable, so they moved to the house. They just leaned against the wall beside the bed, Asami's head on his shoulder, Jinyoung hugging her from the side. They didn't say anything, just enjoying each other's company while Asami calmed down. And she did. eventually.
"I'll stay here tonight," she said finally. Her voice was quiet, but it didn't shake.
He nodded. "Yeah. That's fine."
She looked down at her hands. Her fingers still trembled, faintly. "I can't face him right now. Not after what we saw."
Asami leaned closer to Jinyong, exhaling hard. "No. I will have to. Eventually. He'll ask where I was, why I didn't come home. He always does."
"Then just tell him you stayed at a friend's," Jinyong said.
She gave a small, humorless smile. "You're not a friend, Jin. You're trouble."
He just chuckled, and just kissed her head.
For a while, neither of them spoke. The rain grew heavier.
Asami finally spoke again. "I know I can't confront him. If I pretend I don't know, maybe I can figure out what they're planning. Maybe… maybe I can stop him before he does something that can't be undone."
"You're talking about pretending everything's fine," Jinyong said. "Can you do that?"
She hesitated. "I don't know." Her eyes flickered to him. "It feels wrong. But what else can I do? If I act out, it's just going to ruin everything."
Jinyong nodded slowly. "For now, just watch. Don't make him suspicious."
She frowned, thinking. "What about you? What's your plan?"
He stayed quiet for a moment. Then he said, "I'll keep an eye on my father. If anything changes, I'll know."
Her gaze sharpened. "You think my father might betray yours first."
Jinyong met her eyes. "If he's smart, he'll try. But he likes me, so I don't think so. still…"
"Then be ready just in case." she muttered.
He looked away, a small sigh escaping him. "If it comes to that, I'll act. Alone."
"Alone?" she repeated. "You think I'll just sit here while my father makes weapons for those people? And potentially seeing you get hurt?"
"Asami—"
"No." She cut him off, sitting up. "You're not doing this without me. I know what's at stake now. He's my father. My responsibility. Don't you dare ask me to stay out of this, Jin. And if you ever hide something from me about the Equalists, I…"
Jinyong looked at her for a long time. Then he nodded, quietly. "Alright."
She let out a shaky breath, leaning back down. The fire in her eyes dimmed, but it didn't disappear.
"Good," she muttered.
Outside, thunder rolled across the city. Inside, Jinyong leaned his head on top of hers, closing his eyes.
—
Morning light crept through the curtains. The rain had left the world quiet, save for the hum of the city waking outside.
Asami stirred first. She was still in Jinyong's arms, her head against his chest, feeling the slow rhythm of his breathing. For a moment, she just lay there. Calm.
Jinyong shifted slightly, eyes half-closed. "You awake?" he murmured.
"Yeah," she said softly. "Barely."
He gave a sleepy hum, tightening his arm around her waist. "You can sleep more if you want."
"I can't," she whispered, her gaze tracing the ceiling. Her thoughts were loud.
The silence was broken by the ringing of the house phone.
They froze.
Jinyong blinked. "Who's calling this early?"
Asami's stomach tightened. "It's… probably my dad."
She got up and pulled one of Jinyong's shirts over her tank top before heading to the phone. He followed her with his eyes but stayed in the bed, waiting.
She picked up the receiver. "Hi, Dad."
"Asami." Hiroshi's voice was deep. "So you are at Jinyong's place. You didn't come home last night."
Her hand tightened around the phone. "Yeah, dad, I'm at Jin's."
Another pause. She could almost hear him frown. "All night?"
"Yes," she said. "It's the last week of the year. I needed some time away, you know, destressing from school before it starts again, so I thought I'd stay here."
"I don't like it," Hiroshi said. "You know I trust Jinyong. I know he's a good kid… but a boy and a girl staying together like this, this is not something I can just ignore."
She clenched her jaw. "Dad. I'm not a little girl anymore. You know him. He'd never do anything to hurt me. I can take care of myself."
Another pause. Then he exhaled slowly. "Alright. But don't do anything rash. Promise me that."
"I promise," she said quietly, relief washing over her. "Thanks, Dad."
He hung up. Asami exhaled shakily, a deep breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. Acting normal in front of him, pretending she didn't know what her father was doing… It was exhausting.
She leaned back against the counter. "I need a distraction before I go mad."
Jinyong raised an eyebrow. "We could go to the arena. There's still a couple of days of matches."
She shook her head, eyes flicking to him. "No. That's not strong enough."
Her gaze lingered on him, taking in the curve of his jaw, the way his hair fell over his forehead, the faint rise of his chest as he breathed. Her mind wandered, briefly, to thoughts she didn't dare say out loud, things that made her pulse quicken, that made her heart thump a little too fast.
She bit her lip, trying to snap herself out of it, forcing a small shake of her head. "Nope. Not right now."
Jinyong noticed the tension in her eyes, the way her fingers twitched. He gave her a careful look but stayed silent, letting her breathe.
Her cheeks warmed, and she turned away, focusing on the counter. "I need… I need something else. Something stronger."
She crossed her arms, tapping her fingers lightly against her elbow, thinking.
Finally, she exhaled, a little laugh escaping her. "I'll start a project tonight. Something new. Something to keep my mind busy."
He raised an eyebrow. "A project? What kind?"
She looked at him, a small spark of her old self flickering through the tension. "Not sure yet. But I'll think of something. I have ideas."
Jinyong smiled faintly, getting out of bed and reaching for her hand, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. "Then let's see what you come up with."
She glanced at him, her lips twitching into the beginnings of a grin. "Yeah. Let's."
—
The afternoon light stretched long across the workshop floor. Jinyong sat at his desk, tapping his pen against a half-finished paper about the dangers of lead in the beauty products in the market, something he'd been working on for his father.
Across the room, Asami was quiet. Not moody quiet, but focused quiet. She'd been sketching all day, her hair tied up messily, a smudge of ink streaked across her cheek. Every so often, she'd hum, erase something, then draw again.
When the sun started to dip, she finally pushed back from the table and stretched. "Done."
Jinyong didn't look up right away. "Done with what?"
She walked over, grabbed his wrist, and tugged. "You've been staring at that paper all day. Come on."
He let her pull him across the workshop, notebook still in his other hand.
They stopped in front of the board she'd been working on. Blueprints covered it: lines, gears, angles, small details only an engineer would notice.
"I… don't think we can make this here, Asami," Jinyong said carefully, scanning the lines.
"What? You don't think you can make it?" she teased.
"No, seriously," he said, pointing at the proportions. "The workshop won't fit. You're building a mecha tank. It's twice the size of this place."
She rolled her eyes and jabbed a finger at the corner of the blueprint. "No, you idiot. Look closer."
He leaned in. The scale clicked in his head. It was a mecha tank, but smaller. Way smaller.
"Oh," he muttered, eyes narrowing. "That's… actually pretty ambitious."
"I see those mecha tanks and I kind of want to make my own," she said with a little grin. "You think we could do that?"
He ran a hand through his hair. "It's going to be a long project, that's for sure. And expensive."
She gave him a look. "You say that as if we're not the richest duo in Republic City."
That got a small chuckle out of him. "Alright, fine. Let's try it. But don't complain if I add a few things of my own."
Her grin widened. "Deal."
He studied the sketch again, then spoke more softly. "Still… you sure this is a distraction? Mecha tanks remind me a little too much of your father."
Asami's smile faltered for just a second. Then she shrugged. "Everything I tinker with these days connects to him somehow. At least this one will feel like I'm beating him at his own game."
Jinyong looked at her for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah. I guess so."
Asami leaned against the board, arms crossed, watching the lines of her design. "It's something to start with," she murmured. "Something that's mine."
He smiled faintly. "Then let's build it."