Nobody's Hero

Chapter One: Mikoo

The last time Mikoo visited the Fire Nation's Red Market, she still had five fingers on her right hand. The stub of her pinky, where her finger used to be, made her feel smaller than the other Firebenders that passed her on the way to town. Weak. Mikoo balled her hand into a fist and leaned against the brick wall that invited her into the Red Market. Around her, vendors yelled at shoppers to buy their latest pastry or warned them to purchase meat before it expired. It was hot—summer—and even the brick wall felt like it was searing into her back.

"God, I hate the fire nation," Mikoo said under her breath.

"No, you don't."

A massive hand touched her shoulder. She jumped back, remembering the last time someone had tried to get her attention with their hands. When she blinked out of her defensive posture, she realized it wasn't a Firebender who'd overheard treasonous muttering and came to arrest her.

"Urjiah," she hissed. "A warning next time."

Urjiah, the tallest man she'd ever met, had been her savior when she'd... moved to the Fire Nation ten years ago. Mikoo had been nine when Urjiah's mother had opened the door to an underfed, short nine-year-old who was crying on her front porch steps. Her clothes had given her away as an Earth Bender, an abandoned Earth Bender who shouldn't have been that deep in fire nation during the war, so it was shocking to everyone when Urjiah's mother yanked her inside, washed, fed, and clothed Mikoo as a fire nation daughter as if she'd been a part of the family her entire life.

Urjiah was twelve when his mother sat her family down, announced Mikoo's parents were dead, and that her three sons had a new sister to protect with their lives. Nobody would know she wasn't a blood relative. If Mikoo had been younger and less traumatized by the destruction of her city and home, she might have believed she was one of them, too. For ten years, Urjiah and his family cared for Mikoo and taught her their nation's way of life. Hate all other nations, remain loyal to Firelord Ozai, and report anything or anyone suspicious—a rule the family never followed themselves.

Then, eight years later, the Avatar appeared. During Sozin's Comet, he defeated Firelord Ozai and reunited the four nations. Prince Zuko was crowned the Firelord, declared the war over, and encouraged the Fire Nation to once again welcome the other nations into their hearts. Harmony was restored. For two years, everything seemed to be moving in the right direction, then six months ago, small fire-led rebellions started popping up across the nations. Men and women who weren't happy with Firelord Zuko's new rules. They still believed they were the better nation. None of this bothered me, of course, until—

"You're thinking about it again, aren't you?" Urjiah asked.

He stood nearly four feet taller than Mikoo, and his hands were three times larger. His jet-black hair was long and braided, tucked under his shirt collar. He was muscular and robust, the complete opposite of his sister.

"They broke into our home, brother," I whispered. "They recognized me. Called me by my father's name."

A week ago, in the middle of the night, our door was opened by fire nation loyalists looking for people who didn't belong. They ransacked our kitchen and stole what they could ration to their members, forced us out of our beds, and interrogated us to ensure that we were fire-born. My brothers, who look identical though they're each four years apart, with black hair, walnut eyes, unusually sharp chins, and cheeks, were stoic. Brave. They looked the invaders in the eyes and made them feel sorry for what they'd done with their calm demeanor. I couldn't keep it together and wept openly the entire time. I don't look like my brothers. My cheeks were round, pudgy like a child, my skin wasn't as tanned as theirs, and my eyes dark, almost black. In some circles I would have been considered pretty, but when I was crying, I looked like a child.