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The first time Tenzin really realized that his older brother Bumi was different from him and their sister, he was four years old.
He had had to get up at dawn to meditate with his dad for as long as he could remember, which, granted, was not very long considering the fact that he was four. But that was what was normal for him. He got up when the Sun did and mediated with Dad before going through some basic forms. Kya would usually do her forms with Mom and Dad at night when the Moon was out. Tenzin moved air, Kya and Mom moved water, and Dad could move all four elements.
Bumi didn’t do any forms with anybody. He got to sleep in the early morning and he went to bed when he felt like it. Tenzin was four when he learned it wasn’t just because he was fourteen and had completed his ice dodging with their Uncle Sokka.
“Daddy, why doesn’t Bumi train with you and Mommy like me and Kya?”
“Like Kya and I,” Mom idly corrected him from the kitchen. Tenzin repeated his question with the correction and looked up at his Dad, waiting for the answer.
“Well,” Dad began, “Bumi can’t do the things that you and your sister can.”
“What things?”
“You know how we move the air around when we’re done meditating?”
“Mhm?”
“Well, that’s called bending. Some people, like you and I, can bend, and others, like Uncle Sokka and your brother, can’t. They’re called non-benders.”
“Oh.”
That was when Bumi appeared from his room, hair ruffled from sleep and eyes tired. Tenzin smiled and waved at his older brother, but Bumi didn’t return the gesture. He just took a slice of bannock from the kitchen and disappeared into his room again. Dad sighed and mumbled something about teenagers. Tenzin’s lower lip trembled at his brother’s lack of acknowledgement of him, but he didn’t say anything. Maybe Bumi was mad at him. Maybe he was mad that Tenzin could move air and he couldn’t. Maybe he was just jealous.
…
Bumi left home for good when Tenzin was eight.
It was just supposed to be a normal day. Breakfast was really good that day, everyone was in a good mood, and Tenzin had woken up from a good sleep filled with pleasant dreams about flying.
And then, once breakfast was over, Bumi announced that he was leaving them.
The marbles Tenzin had caught in a wind spiral fell to the floor as he lost his concentration. The idea of his older brother leaving was unfathomable. Sure, their family moved around a lot, so change was a fixture in Tenzin’s life, but not this kind of change. Their life was spent between the Southern Water Tribe, their mother’s tribe, and the Southern Air Temple, where their father had spent his childhood. They went to the Fire Nation sometimes, but not all the time. And now, Bumi was moving there fulltime.
He left after promising to send a messenger hawk, but Dad followed him out of their igloo. Tenzin followed soon after, despite his mother and sister’s hissed protests. By the time he caught up with them, they were surrounded by the tribe and yelling at each other.
“…face it, you’re obsessed with Tenzin, your precious little airbender,” Bumi snapped.
Tenzin froze at the way his brother spat his name, losing track of what was being said as tears sprang to his eyes. Did his older brother hate him? Was it because he could airbend and Bumi couldn’t? Was he mad that Tenzin spent more time with their Dad then he did? Did he not love Tenzin anymore?
Tenzin only tuned back in to the argument as Bumi was turning away.
“If you leave now, you are turning your back on your heritage!” Dad shouted, “You leave now and I will never see you again!”
Tenzin and the crowd waited with bated breath for Bumi’s response. He didn’t even look back at them when he finally spoke.
“Good. I don’t want to see you again.”
Bumi walked away then. The crowd was whispering amongst themselves and Tenzin’s curious little ears caught snippets of what they were saying.
“…only a matter of time… surprised he didn’t leave sooner… what did Katara expect when she married him… those poor kids, they didn’t ask for this… probably for the best…”
Tenzin went to bed crying that night. He didn’t go running for his Mom though. She didn’t do anything to stop Bumi from leaving. She would be of no help to him now. And Dad was angry with Bumi, he wouldn’t like it if he caught Tenzin crying over him.
Days later, a messenger hawk arrived with letter with his and Kya’s names on it. Kya wouldn’t let Mom or Dad see it, but she did read it out for Tenzin. Bumi had landed in the Fire Nation and had received his assignment with the Royal Guard. He said he was going to miss them. He didn’t say anything about Mom and Dad.
“Bumi loves us, Tenzin,” Kya insisted softly, “He really does. He and Dad just… don’t get along, but that doesn’t mean he hates us too.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
…
Tenzin was twelve when he finally realized that things hadn’t been quite right at home for Bumi.
Bumi had been gone for four years at that point. His scant letters spoke of his life in the Fire Nation: his friends he made on the Royal Guard, his weapons training sessions with Princess Izumi, the festivals and outings he went on as part of her personal guard. Even Tenzin, who honestly barely knew his brother, could tell that he was happy.
People in the tribe asked about Bumi frequently, but only when Aang or Katara weren’t there to hear them. Uncle Sokka and Tenzin got letters sometimes, but Kya had received the most. She kept them close to her chest, far away from their parents’ eyes, but was always willing to share with others how happy their older brother was now. People were glad that Bumi was happy, but Tenzin never understood how glad until he was twelve.
“Kya, honey, how’s your older brother doing?” Akna, one of the village Elders, asked one day.
“He’s doing well,” Kya answered easily, “He’s been doing a lot of chaperoning recently.”
“That’s wonderful! Has the Princess Izumi found a suitor?”
“She did. Bumi’s super protective of her, since they’re best friends, but he secretly likes the guy. He makes Izumi really happy, so he’s super happy for her. Having the time of his life putting the fear of the spirits into the poor guy, though.”
Akna chuckled and shook her head.
“I am beyond thankful that Bumi is so happy. I feared he would feel alone in this world forever.”
“Why?” Tenzin couldn’t help himself from asking. Akna and Kya exchanged a look before Kya answered.
“Mom and Dad didn’t really raise Bumi to belong anywhere,” she said carefully.
“Bumi was only given a few rites from your mother’s culture,” Akna added softly, “And none from your father’s. He was… lost in himself for a very long time. The tribe did what we could for him, but your father, he…”
“Dad’s weird about bending,” Kya supplied and Akna nodded.
“Yes, exactly that. He was consumed with rebuilding his own culture and yet neglected two thirds of his people’s inheritors. Your brother suffered the brunt of this.”
Tenzin had noticed that, despite the fact that he and Kya were both half Air Nomad and half Water Tribe, their parents did usher them towards one or the other. Tenzin’s clothes, purchased and altered thoughtfully by his mother, were all dyed with saffron and mixed beet juice, while Kya’s were all dyed with woad. Even the stylings were different. He remembered Bumi’s clothes being closer to traditional Water Tribe attire, but it was lacking a certain something that made it as easily identifiable as his own or their sister’s.
“Always remember, Tenzin,” Akna said, taking his hand in hers, “You are of both the Air Nomads and the Southern Water Tribe. When you speak, it is not with only half your voice.”
Tenzin nodded shakily and accepted the old woman’s wisdom. Akna smiled and went about her walk, while Kya gently pulled Tenzin along as she finished their morning errands.
“Dad didn’t treat Bumi very well, did he?” he asked quietly later that day. Kya looked at him and shook her head.
“Dad lost his people and woke up the only airbender alive when he was your age. That does something to you. But it’s not fair to take that hurt out on someone else for something they couldn’t control. Bumi didn’t ask to be born a non-bender.”
“But he could’ve taught him all the meditating and the diet stuff and all that! Bumi didn’t need to be a bender to do all that.”
“Yeah, he could’ve. But he didn’t. He cared too much about bending to bother with anything else.”
“That’s not fair.”
“It’s not. And the way he treats you isn’t fair, either.”
Tenzin fidgeted with his fingers and stayed silent. Sure, he didn’t have the freedom to participate in his mother’s culture as much as he desperately wanted to, but at least he was allowed to have some of it and all of his father’s. Bumi had been cut off from both sides and left adrift.
Kya seemed to understand what he wasn’t saying and leant her body against his, a comfortable weight against his shoulder.
…
At sixteen, Tenzin saw his brother for the first time in eight years.
Princess Izumi was getting married and, as part of her personal guard and best friend, Bumi was going to be there. By virtue of being the bride’s father’s best friend and also the Avatar, Aang was invited to the royal wedding, along with his entire family. Which meant that all five of them were going to be in the same place for the first time in almost a decade.
They didn’t see each other during the ceremony. As Izumi’s personal guard, Bumi was close to the alter, but hidden where potential wedding crashers and assassins couldn’t see him. But once the ceremony was over and the bride and groom were presented to the audience, Tenzin caught a glimpse of someone standing behind a large red curtain. He was dressed in the typical red-black-gold of a Fire Nation guard, but his hair was held back in a wolf tail, not a topknot.
There was a rush to get to the wedding reception and Tenzin lost track of his brother in the crowd. They were seated at assigned chairs in a great hall, served dish after dish of traditional Fire Nation cuisine (only half of which was actually permitted in the diet Aang and Tenzin followed), and music poured from somewhere in the room. Aang and Katara were engaged in conversation with a couple of diplomats from the Earth King’s entourage when Kya gently grabbed Tenzin’s upper arm and led him away from the table.
“Kya, where—”
“Shh, just come with me.”
Kya led him from the hall and down a corridor to a smaller room, an office by the looks of it. Their Uncle Zuko stood just outside the door.
“Thank you both for coming,” he said.
“It’s an honour to be here, Uncle,” Kya answered easily.
“He’s ready to see you both.”
“Uh, who…?”
Zuko turned and knocked on the door behind him, before moving aside and gesturing for the siblings to enter the room. He squeezed Tenzin’s shoulder as he entered and closed the door behind them. Tenzin glanced around the room and froze. Leaning against the desk in the center of the room was Bumi.
He stepped forward and opened his arms. A small, uncertain smile graced his lips.
“Hey—”
Tenzin launched himself into his older brother’s arms. He might have used a little bit of airbending to propel himself forward. Bumi caught him and staggered backwards with a soft ‘oof.’ Tenzin, for his part, did his best to bury his face in his brother’s armor, his sudden tears streaking down the dark grey metal.
“Hey, hey buddy, c’mon, that can’t be comfortable,” Bumi said softly. It wasn’t, but that didn’t stop Tenzin. He peeled his stinging wet face from the armor enough to look up at his brother.
Bumi’s arms had settled on Tenzin’s shoulder and back, and he could feel the muscle he had built there under the red cloth tunic he wore under his armor. Eight-year-old Tenzin had thought that Bumi looked like an adult at eighteen, but now at twenty-six, he was far more grown up. He was broader, his jaw was sharper, and his stance was steadier than ever. He was almost the spitting image of their Uncle Sokka, without the faint wrinkles and with light grey eyes instead of deep blue.
“Hey, little brother,” Bumi muttered before crushing Tenzin closer to his chest. Kya joined in their hug from behind, their bodies enveloping their little brother in warmth and love. Her head rested on Tenzin’s shoulder and Bumi’s chin was hooked over the top his head. It was there, surrounded by love and warm bodies, that Tenzin finally broke.
“I, I missed you so mu-u-uch,” he blubbered.
“I know, buddy, I missed you too.”
“I thought you ha-ated me!”
“Never. I could never hate you. It wasn’t… I didn’t leave because of you.”
Tenzin sniffed loudly and pulled back again to look at him. Bumi smiled widely and unwrapped an arm to pat the top of Tenzin’s bald head.
“Look at you, little brother. You’re almost all grown up.”
“I’m sixteen.”
“Exactly. That’s only two years younger than I was when I left.”
Tenzin could hear the suggestion his brother did not voice. And truth be told, he was seriously considering leaving once he turned eighteen as well. Not forever, like Bumi, but for long enough that he could figure out who Tenzin was outside of Aang’s influence. He wanted to explore the world the way his parents had done as children. He wanted to meet people outside of diplomatic missions and pilgrimages.
He just didn’t know if he was as brave as his brother.
Bumi seemed to sense where his thoughts were at and spoke up once more.
“You know Uncle Zuko would be happy to sponsor a trip or something,” he said, “He’s got connections everywhere, you could totally get him to help send you somewhere.”
“Maybe… maybe once I become a Master,” Tenzin replied slowly, “Then I’ll go.”
“You could tell Dad it’s a spiritual journey you need to take on your own,” Kya added, “He’d be all over that.”
“He would, wouldn’t he? Is he.. is he treating you guys right?”
“He’s still himself, you know. He’s not horrible, just… overbearing.”
“He still won’t talk about you,” Tenzin added. Bumi scoffed and pulled away to cross his arms over his armored chest.
“Let him stew in silence then,” he spat, “I’ve said all I need to say to him for the rest of my life. If he can’t admit when he fucked up, then that’s on him.”
Kya and Bumi exchanged a knowing look over Tenzin’s head and he found himself agreeing with them. His relationship with Aang would always be complicated, just like Bumi’s was. It was a different kind of complicated, but it still sucked regardless of which one of them you looked at. The pressure was on for the both of them from the day they were born, purely by virtue of who their father was. There was no way to avoid it; airbender or non-bender, they both felt the weight of their father’s legacy on their shoulders.
Or, at least, Bumi used to feel that weight. He stood taller and steadier now. He had his own friends and family of choice that he made all on his own. He was happier now, forging his own identity when the ones that should have been his birthright were denied to him.
And maybe, someday, Tenzin could follow in his older brother’s footsteps and tread his own path in the world.