Chapter Text
Suki is in the yard when the scuffle breaks out. She does what everyone does: go to get a closer look. Not because she likes spectating on the guards mistreating another prisoner, but because she can learn from other people’s mistakes—gauge what kinds of rules the guards make up when they’re in a bad mood, see how the prisoners react and what kinds of punishments they end up with, observe which guards will be happy with just humiliating a prisoner so long as the person complies, and which guards will keep on bothering prisoners until they have an excuse to inflict punishments.
This particular prisoner, apparently, does not comply.
“I said,” the guard says, her voice menacingly low, “on your knees!”
The prisoner is very much not kneeling. His back is straight, head held high, he’s taller than the guard and looking off to someplace over her head. “No.”
Suki has never seen him before, and people don’t keep up that kind of defiance very long in the Boiling Rock, so he’s probably new. It’s not hard to guess why the guard is picking on him: his features aren’t Fire Nation, his skin is too dark and his eyes too blue, he’s wearing a short ponytail instead of a topknot, and there are blue beads in his hair. Probably Water Tribe, because Sokka and Katara shared some of those features. Not that the guards necessarily treat Fire Nation prisoners well, but anyone who so obviously isn’t Fire Nation quickly becomes unpopular.
The guard takes a fire whip from her belt and ignites it. “You will do as I say, Hakoda, or you will pay the price.” She starts circling him, to which he doesn’t react. “Your band of vermin and pirates killed my brother. You will kneel to me and beg forgiveness.”
Great, so it’s not just because the man isn’t Fire Nation. Doesn’t look good for him.
“No,” Hakoda repeats. “We’re not pirates. It’s war. People get killed in war. If you’re unhappy with that, tell your Fire Lord.”
“You will not say a single bad word about the Fire Lord!” the guard snaps. She stops her circling when she’s standing behind him, and kicks the prisoner into the back of the knees.
… Or tries to. He must have anticipated it, because he takes a quick step forward, half-turning, grabs her foot and pushes it upwards until she crashes onto her back with an oof.
The spectating crowd of prisoners becomes still, everyone holding their breath, while all the other guards rush forward.
Suki’s hands itch to get involved, groping for fans that aren’t there, of course they aren’t there, and she doesn’t need her fans to take down a few of those guards, but … but there are more than a few. And she just got out of solitary two days ago, and she’s still feeling tired and weak, and she’ll end up back in solitary if she joins the fight, and she should focus her limited energy on something less futile than fights she can only lose—
It’s not giving up. It’s deciding to observe and subvert her opponents’ tactic instead of meeting it head-on, which is exactly what she’s been teaching her Kyoshi Warriors about how to deal with stronger opponents.
It takes eight guards to subdue the prisoner. Five of them are injured by the end: bleeding nose, broken elbows, missing teeth, wheezing sounds when breathing, and one is unconscious. Once they have the man on the ground with his hands shackled behind his back, the guards who are still able to fight lash a few kicks into his ribs before they drag him away. The guard with the broken elbows is still howling.
Well. What a great way to start her afternoon.
A week passes before she sees him again. She’s on mopping duty, which sucks when there’s a guard breathing down her neck and she can’t even stop for a second to unstiffen her hands, but at least it keeps her arm and back muscles trained, and her hands from getting soft. And when the guard shift changes, she’s able to hide behind the stairs and stretch her back for a moment.
Someone is already hiding there. Except Hakoda doesn’t look like he’s hiding, he looks like he owns the place—leaning against the wall, arms crossed, and wow that’s a biceps Suki aspires to have one day. His mop is lying on the ground next to him.
She leans against the other wall. “They’ll cut down on your meals if you refuse to work. Just saying.”
His eyes narrow. “Just saying, or you’re threatening to rat me out?”
“Just saying,” she repeats. “I don’t rat people out. But others here will.” Others here have. And landed Suki in solitary confinement for two entire weeks for trying to improve everyone’s nutrient supply. The kind of solitary with irregular meals and someone banging on her door every time she finally managed to fall asleep in that cramped space.
He probably got a similar kind of treatment, because there are dark circles under his eyes. And he’s looking at her with that kind of wariness the guards like to maintain between all the prisoners.
Suki holds up her hands. “Hey, I just thought you could need some tips on how the wind blows.” She could probably take it up with him in a fight if he comes to the conclusion she’s not on his side, but she’s not keen on trying. She quite likes her elbows unbroken and all of her teeth in her mouth, where they belong.
“How nice of you,” he says. “So how does the wind blow?”
She takes a deep breath. Where to start? “If you attack the guards, you’ll end up in solitary—guess you figured that out already. They’ll use firebending as a last resort if they can’t get you under control otherwise. Some of the guards are decent, but most of them aren’t. The one with the mole on his left cheek and the tall one with the raspy voice will just humiliate you a little and then leave you be if you do what they say, but try to stay away from the guy who squints at everyone and the woman with the dimple in her chin, they’ll keep on provoking you until they find an excuse to punish you. If you disobey orders, they’ll force you or beat you up or both; if you insult the guards, they’ll lock you up in your cell for two days without food. The guards don’t want the prisoners to get along, so they sow distrust and reward people for ratting others out.”
His wariness is still there, as if he wants to prove her point. “Why are you telling me this?”
Because the sense of community she tried to build with the other inmates has crumpled to pieces with Biyu’s betrayal, no one in their group trusts anyone else anymore, and Suki is desperate for someone she can rely on, for someone who won’t stab her in the back, and he seems like a person who won’t be able to get on the guards’ good side no matter what he does, and also—“I have friends in the Water Tribe. They wouldn’t want you to have a harder time than necessary.” He reminds her of Sokka, and she misses Sokka with an intensity that hurts.
There are footsteps on the stairs. Suki snatches her mop and casually moves back out of the hiding spot, mopping diligently. “Take care of yourself,” she adds before she’s back in sight of the guards.
He doesn’t. He gets caught not-working a few minutes later and gets dragged to the center of the hall because the guards want to demonstrate what will happen to anyone who refuses to be productive, and then refuses to obey orders. Instead, Hakoda proceeds to demonstrate exactly how great a weapon a mop can be if you know how to use it.
He’s gone for another week after that.
(Three of the seven guards he defeated are gone far longer than just a week.)
A bowl of the brownish-green slop they call food between her hands, Suki looks around for a place to sit when she sees him. And decides to walk over, casually, as if she just wants to sit at that table, not necessarily near Hakoda; the guards are watching everyone, and publicly being friends with the man who got sent to solitary twice in two weeks is never a good idea. Not that they are friends—he very obviously doesn’t trust her one bit, and she gets it, after what happened with her garden.
He looks up when she takes a seat at the table.
“Wow,” she says. “You look like shit.”
Hakoda raises an eyebrow at her. “What a charming young lady you are.”
Oh spirits, why does his sarcasm have to sound so much like Sokka’s? She has to stay composed. She doesn’t want to start crying just because this man reminds her of the guy who didn’t even want to kiss her last time they met.
… And then changed his mind the next day and did kiss her. Because apparently, playing with her heart is an acceptable pastime. It would be easier not to constantly think about Sokka if she knew what he wants.
“You know,” Suki says, “you could at least pick fights someone benefits from, instead of just being stubborn.”
Those narrowed eyes again. She’d be intimidated if the expression didn’t look exactly the same as Sokka narrowing his eyes, and if she was someone who gets easily intimidated in the first place. “Like what?” he asks.
“I don’t know yet. You don’t like it here? I also don’t like it here. Let’s work together and try to figure out how to escape, or at least how to make life more bearable.”
He doesn’t immediately tell her no, so that’s a start. Instead, he eats the rest of his meal in silence—eats it far too eagerly considering the slop tastes so disgusting that it took Suki a month to be able to swallow the stuff without having to gag.
“How much food did you get in solitary?” she asks.
Hakoda shrugs. “Not enough.”
There are six guards around the cafeteria, but three of them are talking to each other, one is busy handing out the slop, one is chiding a prisoner for whatever, and the other one is not facing her way.
“Take mine,” Suki says.
“What?”
She doesn’t have time for fools not understanding what she’s trying to do, so she just steals his empty bowl and puts hers in front of him instead. The one guard who is actually doing his job looks over a moment later, and she puts her spoon into the empty bowl as if she just finished eating.
“What are you doing?” Hakoda whispers, not looking at her, and not eating.
“You’re no use to anyone if you starve. Listen, if you can’t let yourself be humiliated in order to have an easier time, I respect that, but I won’t let you become useless as an ally just because you’re too thick-headed to ensure you stay strong enough to act.”
Hakoda pokes the slop with his spoon, still not eating. “And what about you?”
“I got full rations while you were in solitary, I can manage without a meal or two. Not that ‘full rations’ are enough to keep anyone properly fed, but …”
“I’m not taking your food from you.”
Suki sighs. “Haven’t you listened? You’re not taking it from me. I’m giving it to you.”
“But—”
“Hakoda, eat.” She gives him her best Leader-of-the-Kyoshi-Warriors-better-obey-what-I’m-saying glare. “You can repay me by helping me figure out how to survive this prison, which you can’t do if you’re half-starved.”
He purses his lips, but then proceeds to eat his second bowl of food with as much fervor as the first. “I don’t even know your name,” he says between two spoonfuls.
“Suki.”
That makes him pause. “Are you the leader of the, uh … Oshinama Fighters?”
“Oshinama Fighters?” She almost kicks him. Almost. “Excuse me, we’re the Kyoshi Warriors.”
“Ah.” He rubs his neck in that way Sokka always does when he’s embarrassed. “That’s the name I was looking for.”
She lets it drop, but only because there’s a more pressing question than why anyone would think a group of warriors based on Kyoshi Island, following the traditions of Avatar Kyoshi, would be named Oshinama Fighters. “How come you’ve heard of me?” Not that she isn’t proud, a little bit, but they’ve stayed on Kyoshi Island for so long that most people have never even heard of the Kyoshi Warriors, let alone know the name of their leader.
“I’ve met some of your … warriors in the caldera’s Prison Tower before they sent me here. Apparently, they’re friends of my children.”
… No. No way. No way he’s saying what she thinks he’s saying.
“Who are your children?”
“Sokka and Katara. They’re traveling with the Avatar.”
… Okay. Okay, this is not disturbing at all. This is fine. Totally fine.
At least, now she knows why he reminds her so much of Sokka. And spirits, if things with Sokka work out, Hakoda is going to be her father-in-law, and she’s already seen him getting beaten up twice, and he may or may not have been close to breaking her elbows at least once. This is going to be great.
“I, uh …” she says, “I’ve …”—made out with your son—“… met them.”
Hakoda’s face lights up. “Are you friends with them too?”
Oh spirits, if he knew. “… Yes. Good friends, actually.” Well. At the very least, she doesn’t have to worry about him betraying her anymore. Surely, Sokka’s father wouldn’t sell her out. “So …” she says, desperate for a change of topic. “Which of my sisters have you met?”
“Your sisters?”
“Sisters in arms.”
“Ah. Um …”
On further reflection, Oshinama Fighters should have been warning enough concerning how good he is at remembering names.