Suki's hut was silent.
Not the empty silence of an abandoned place, but a warm, heavy one, laden with the smell of ointments, medicinal herbs, and the faint metallic trace of dried blood. The window let in a yellowish light that filtered between the planks, and each ray moved with the slow sway of the wind outside.
Suki was sitting on her futon, her leg bandaged and elevated on a folded blanket. She still wore some of her Kyoshi makeup, smudged by sweat and the fight; the green paint around her eyes had faded into a dull smudge, and her painted lips were split at one corner.
Despite this, she kept her back straight.
She was a warrior even when wounded.
When Ren entered, the door creaked softly, and that sound was enough for the young woman to lift her head.
Her eyes—sharp, disciplined, used to analyzing every gesture—softened for an instant when she saw him.
An instant.
Just a blink.
But Ren noticed it.
—"You shouldn't be walking," he said calmly as he approached. "Your leg is still trembling."
Suki frowned, more out of pride than pain.
—"I'm fine," she murmured. "I just… moved too fast."
Ren knelt beside her without asking permission.
The wood creaked under his weight, and the smell of ginger and sage tea mixed with the scent of his clothes damp with the morning dew. His movements were calm… but each one was measured.
He took the tray with herbs and bandages that the healer had left on the low table.
—"Let me see your leg," he asked.
Suki hesitated.
Not out of modesty.
Out of habit: the Kyoshi Warriors did not let others tend to them… especially not a man.
But something in the way he held the tray… the calm in his posture, the softness of his voice…
She relented.
Ren lifted the blanket covering her bandaged leg. His rough fingers barely brushed the exposed skin above the bandage. Suki's breath hitched—for just a fraction of a second—but Ren felt it.
Her leg was warm, the skin tight from the internal bruise. He examined it without rushing. Not like a professional healer… but like someone studying a map.
—"The wound isn't deep," he said in a low voice. "But you overexerted yourself by putting weight on it. The joint is inflamed."
Suki looked away, annoyed with herself.
—"It was my fault. I didn't anticipate the second jump. I made a mistake not even a recruit should—"
—"No," Ren interrupted her gently.
She looked at him, surprised.
—"That wasn't a mistake," he continued. "It was instinct. You moved to protect a child who was behind you. I saw it. You didn't fail in combat… you made a decision. And you saved a life."
Suki looked at him as if she were seeing something she had never allowed herself to look at.
Her shoulders lowered a little.
She didn't relax completely, but she stopped punishing herself.
That was the effect Ren was looking for.
As he applied a warm poultice to the area, his fingers made contact with the warrior's bare skin. His touch was firm but careful, and Suki couldn't help but inhale a little more sharply.
Ren spoke without looking directly at her, as if respecting her pride.
—"I saw you fight," he murmured. "The way you turned the spear, the sidestep, how you kept your guard even when you were cornered… Not many people would still be thinking that clearly."
Suki swallowed. Her fingers tensed on the sheets.
A compliment… but not an empty one.
One that validated her discipline, her identity, her duty.
One that struck right at the base of her self-esteem.
—"I'm not as good as you think," she whispered.
—"No," Ren denied softly. "You're better than you think."
Suki felt a warmth spread through her chest.
A warmth that had nothing to do with the poultice.
Ren seized that exact moment.
He lifted his gaze, and his eyes met hers.
They were not the eyes of an ordinary boy.
Suki felt it immediately.
There was something hidden there:
something calculating, but covered by a layer of delicate, almost protective sincerity.
—"Everyone here depends on you," he said, lowering his voice almost imperceptibly. "And yet… no one takes care of you."
Suki was speechless.
Because it was true.
Because it hurt.
Because she knew it and ignored it to keep fulfilling her role.
Ren looked away, as if giving her space to process what she was feeling, to rebuild her defenses… but not so quickly that she could succeed.
When he finished adjusting the bandage, he placed a hand—just one, just for a second—on her good knee.
A simple gesture.
But on a warrior accustomed to emotional solitude…
A silent earthquake.
—"I'm not going to let anything happen to you, Suki," he whispered. "Not here… or anywhere."
The Kyoshi leader's breath stopped completely.
There was a dangerous moment.
A moment where she might have pulled back.
She might have suspected.
She might have closed off her heart.
Ren didn't give her the time.
With fluid movements, he adjusted the blanket, stood up, and walked to the door.
Before leaving, he said in a low voice:
—"Rest. I'll let you know when the others come to see you."
Suki, for the first time since she'd worn the Kyoshi paint…
didn't want someone to leave.
—"Ren," she called, just barely.
He turned slightly.
Suki's eyes were tense, but there was something broken in them… something newly opened.
—"Thank you," she said.
A small word.
But loaded with what she never said.
Ren smiled.
Not wide.
Not victorious.
A faint, human smile that melted the last part of her resistance.
—"That's what I'm here for," he replied.
And he left, closing the door with a soft click.
Suki was left looking at her hands on the blanket.
They were firm hands.
Safe hands.
The hands of a leader.
But now they were trembling.
And Suki didn't know why.
Ren did.
The afternoon on Kyoshi Island was tinged a soft orange. The air smelled of salty seaweed, wet wood, and campfire smoke. The Warriors moved through the village with almost choreographic discipline: some were repairing shields, others cleaning armor, others training with their heavy fans under the shade of the trees.
But all of them—absolutely all of them—had one thing in common:
They couldn't stop glancing toward Suki's hut.
Ren had just come out.
And Suki… never let anyone, especially a stranger, see her vulnerable.
Ren closed the door behind him with calm. His posture was impeccable, his expression neutral, his breathing steady. As if nothing had happened inside… as if he hadn't just touched sensitive nerves that Suki never showed.
But the Kyoshi Warriors were observant.
And they had seen things.
Two of them, Hana and Kiroru, were closer. They were rubbing the leaves of their ceremonial fans as an excuse to stay there, watching. When Ren passed in front of them, both froze like statues.
Too still.
Ren felt the tension in the air… and decided to use it.
—"Suki is resting," he informed them serenely, without stopping. "The injury isn't serious, but she needs to keep her leg elevated."
Hana narrowed her eyes.
Kiroru studied him from head to toe.
The silence was a response in itself.
Finally, Hana spoke:
—"And you?" she asked, her tone as sharp as an open fan. "Why were you in there so long?"
Ren stopped.
A slow, measured movement.
The kind of pause that makes everyone hold their breath.
He turned toward them.
—"Because Suki needed me."
That simple statement… they didn't like it.
Kiroru took a step toward him.
—"Suki is our leader," she said in a firm voice. "We don't let just anyone touch her. Especially not when she's injured."
Ren, far from defending himself, bowed his head slightly.
A humble gesture.
A gesture that disarmed some of the hostility… but not all of it.
—"I know. And I didn't touch her more than necessary," he replied.
But the nuance in his voice… the subtle warmth in it… set off immediate alarm in both warriors.
Hana crossed her arms.
—"You're too close to the Avatar for us to trust you," she said without softness. "And too calm not to be suspicious."
Ren smiled.
Small.
Controlled.
Designed.
—"Then, ask Suki when she wakes up," he answered. "She'll be able to tell you if I was a threat to her… or the complete opposite."
The two warriors exchanged glances.
That "or the complete opposite" felt like a whip: not threatening, but suggestive. As if Ren were saying, "I was there, and you weren't."
Kiroru gritted her teeth.
—"Don't play with us."
Ren didn't answer immediately.
He looked them in the eyes, one by one.
And there was his true talent:
generating emotional discomfort without raising his voice.
without attacking.
without defending himself.
simply… by existing.
—"I'm not playing," he said at last. "I'm helping someone you love. That's all."
The word "love" hit like an arrow.
Because Suki wasn't just their leader.
She was their symbol. Their big sister.
The axis of the entire sisterhood.
That Ren could say it so casually…
was almost a provocation.
As Ren walked away toward the clearing where Aang and the others were waiting for him, more warriors started to gather in front of the hut, murmuring amongst themselves.
—"Did you see the way he came out?" whispered Mei-Lin. "He didn't even seem nervous."
—"Too confident…" added Sayuri. "Suki never lets a stranger tend to her."
—"And why did she let him?" asked another.
An older warrior, Kaede, spoke with more severity:
—"Because Suki is injured, and he saved her. That gives him a place that none of us can deny."
The younger ones didn't seem convinced.
—"But… did you see?" asked a recruit, barely fourteen. "When he was carrying her… she rested her head on his shoulder."
Silence.
A silence that none of them wanted to decode.
Another murmured:
—"She spoke to him quietly… as if he were someone important."
—"Or dangerous," added Kaede.
—"I've never seen her like this," whispered a third. "Vulnerable. Who is he really?"
Their gazes automatically turned to Ren, who was already walking among the trees with Aang.
For many of them…
Ren had become interesting.
Too interesting.
The perfect collateral effect.
Ren didn't turn back once.
He didn't need to.
He felt the stares.
The doubts.
The suspicion.
The involuntary respect.
All of it was useful.
All of it served.
As he walked, he thought:
"If they want to protect her from me… they'll focus their attention on her. That gives me freedom to move.
If they think there might be something between us… they'll see me as someone they need to watch more closely.
And if they believe Suki let me into her personal space… then her authority endorses me."
It was impeccable.
And it had happened naturally.
He hadn't even had to force it.