Tanza 5 years old
15 BG
The transition into her fifth year brought a structured uptick in both Tanza's privileges and her obligations. To her peers, it was an exciting escalation of playtime. To Tanza, it was a reasonable progression. Knowing the culture as she did, she found a deep sense of satisfaction in how every single task had a clear, rational purpose.
Chief among these advancements was the introduction of the practice gliders and wooden staff tools. Tanza and her cohort learned how to scrape wax, polish grain, and properly shoulder the heavy wood. The elders spoke softly of treating the staff as a respectful extension of oneself, a lesson in responsibility.
Tanza deeply appreciated this framing. To her, it felt wonderfully familiar to basic rifle maintenance. You needed to know the weight, the balance, and the mechanical ins and outs of your primary equipment long before you were permitted to clear the runway. It was practical, disciplined, and taught the children the exact consequences of neglecting their tools.
Then came the physical conditioning. To the other toddlers, the afternoon curriculum looked like innocent games: a modified version of Airball, dodging spinning panels, and balancing on smooth river stones. But Tanza watched the older acolytes training on the high platforms above and saw the elegant mechanics behind the play.
These exercises were a brilliant method to build muscle memory, rapid agility, and the core 'evade and redirect' reflex into a child's subconscious. It was kinetic education at its absolute finest, and Tanza genuinely enjoyed the physical challenge of perfecting each movement.
When they weren't drilling, the children were assigned labor details like feeding the monastery's animals, sweeping autumn leaves from the stone walkways, and prepping communal dinners. Rather than viewing this as mere chores, Tanza respected the underlying philosophy.
It was a reasonable system for teaching humility and collective responsibility. Everyone contributed to the logistics of the community, ensuring that no individual felt above the work required to keep their sanctuary running.
But the truest source of Tanza's contentment lay in their spiritual routine. Meditation.
The elders were pragmatic, keeping the sessions to a brief five to ten minutes focused on 'breath control', the foundational lung expansion required for airbending. For the high-energy children, the monks substituted walking meditations, challenging the girls to traverse the stone floors without making a single sound.
The toddlers treated it like a game of stealth, and Tanza happily joined in, finding genuine fun in mastering the physical control required to silence her footsteps completely.
More than anything, Tanza was immensely relieved by what this spirituality didn't include. There were no prayers to an unseen, demanding god. There was no dogmatic scripture demanding blind obedience to a fickle higher power. The Air Nomad faith was entirely inward-facing, focused on self-improvement, mindfulness, and personal enlightenment. For a reincarnation survivor who despised the concept of divine entities, this was an absolute paradise of logic.
The remainder of their days was dedicated to basic literacy and philosophy, introducing them to the interconnectedness of all living things. Sitting on her woven mat, Tanza found herself agreeing with the core tenets of their pacifism and the sacredness of life.
While she was entirely capable of violence if backed into a corner, she fundamentally agreed that settling disputes with words was vastly superior to wasting lives and resources on a battlefield.
To Tanza's orderly mind, human lives were a precious, irreplaceable resource. A philosophy that actively sought to preserve them wasn't just moral, it was exceptionally good economics.
As she sat peacefully among her peers, Tanza felt a rare, genuine sense of happiness. Safe, valued, and entirely free from divine interference, she was more than willing to be the most dedicated, enlightened acolyte the temple had ever seen.
Not long into her fifth year, it was time for them to bond with a Sky Bison calf. Though a successful bond was not an assured thing from the get-go, today would be the first day they started the process between a young airbender and her future companion.
The day itself started out with crisp morning air at the Western Air Temple. The howling wind from below was not too fierce, but it was prevalent enough to allow her to smell the ocean far below. Any ordinary five-year-old would have been shivering, but given that she and her peers had grown up and adapted to the high-altitude climate, it felt like nothing more than a gentle breeze against her linen robes.
Tanza sat perfectly still on her woven mat. Having already eaten a quick, practical breakfast of roasted nuts, a small loaf of bread, and milk, she opted to use her remaining free time to practice her breathing. She allowed her lungs to be energized by her airbending, slowly letting out her breath in controlled, rhythmic exhales.
This process provided her with the ability to steadily lengthen her physical stamina, while giving her time to practice utilizing the moving air like a sonar system. She had discovered not too long ago that her bare skin allowed her to feel incoming objects during their daily physical activities. While there was a strict limit for now, she could only accurately feel an incoming object roughly half a meter away from hitting her, she fully intended to extend her radar range well beyond that.
Before long, the subtle shift in air currents alerted her to someone approaching. Tanza opened her eyes and glanced over her shoulder to see Neli rushing toward her.
"Tanza! They're here! They're actually here!" Neli gasped, her face flushed red with excitement as she bounced on the balls of her feet.
Tanza blinked in thought for a quick second before remembering the schedule. Today was the day the herders were bringing down the new calves for the children to meet and potentially bond with. "Oh… right…" she nodded, picking herself up to stand before following her energetic peer.
"The little bisons!" Neli squealed in excitement, completely ignoring the elders' lectures on acoustic discipline. She bounced some more as she dashed ahead. "Granny Reshi said the herders just brought the new calves down to the lower terraces! We're supposed to go right now!" She doubled back, eagerly tugging on Tanza's arm. "Come on, sis!!"
Neli ran off again, leaving Tanza to follow at a more measured, dignified pace.
Today would indeed not be a mere lesson, a simple field trip, or a standard practice exercise. Today was the procurement of a vital lifelong partner. In this world, a sky bison was not a mere pet to an airbender, but a companion. Beyond the spiritual bond, a sky bison was an airbender's primary transportation asset. While most monks treated their beasts with deep, mystical reverence, Tanza looked at the situation through a lens of pure utility.
A proper bond today would secure her a loyal, high-capacity logistical partner for the rest of her life.
By the time she reached the courtyard at the far end of the monastery, Granny Reshi was already surrounded by a chaotic, squealing cluster of five-year-olds. Lushi, Kaya, and the rest of their peers were practically vibrating with impatience. On the stone flagstones sat a massive, woven wicker basket overflowing with freshly picked apples.
"Patience, little ones, patience," Granny Reshi chuckled, her wrinkled face crinkling with warmth as she began handing a single, crisp red fruit to each child. "The sky bison are highly sensitive to the spirit. Walk into the pens softly, keep your inner winds calm, and let them read your heart."
When Tanza stepped forward, she bowed politely to the elder and accepted her sky-apple. It was a rather straightforward snack to offer the calves, meant to be given to whichever sky-bison calf approached them willingly.
The other girls instantly broke all semblance of discipline, squealing as they scattered into the hay to chase after whichever calf looked the 'cutest' or the 'cuddliest'.
There were quite a few calves left alone while her sisters giggled and offered their apples to various other options, meaning there was a notable surplus of youngling bisons available. Tanza took her time to analyze the remaining ones.
One was a hyperactive calf currently chasing its own tail, something she was sure would not be ideal to start out with. Another stood by itself; it was a remarkably large calf, but it was currently hiding its face behind its mother's front leg. While not the worst choice, Tanza reasoned she could eventually break it out of its shy phase with some structured discipline, much the same way she could slowly train the hyperactive one to stay calm.
Then there was the third option. It was a very shaggy, messy, medium-sized calf sitting near the back, lazily chewing on a piece of straw. It looked completely unbothered by the screaming, excitable five-year-olds around it.
Her choice was clear. The medium-sized calf was by far the most reasonable, low-risk asset. However, as Granny Reshi had specified, the animal itself also had to approach her willingly.
Tanza adjusted her grip on the crisp apple, her steps small and unhurried as she walked across the rustling straw. She steered clear of the middle of the yard, where her sisters were still giggling and chasing the louder animals.
As she neared the back of the pen, the shaggy, messy calf finally shifted. It let out a long, heavy breath, a slow, deep puff of air that rustled the loose hay around its paws. It was a sigh of pure exhaustion, the exact kind of tired sigh Tanza internally gave every single day whenever she was surrounded by screaming children.
The calf opened one sleepy, dark eye. It looked at the toddler tumbling into a pile of hay nearby. It looked at the other calves running in circles. Finally, it turned its massive head and looked straight at Tanza.
There was a strange, instant moment of mutual understanding. The calf didn't see a squealing child trying to pull its ears, and Tanza didn't see a wild animal. It recognized a fellow quiet observer who simply wanted to get through the chaotic morning in peace.
Slowly, the shaggy calf spat out its piece of straw. It didn't rush or beg for the fruit. Instead, it shuffled forward on its big paws, lowered its head with a soft grunt, and gently nudged her on her rear before resting its heavy, warm chin right into Tanza's tiny lap.
"…eh?" Tanza blinked. She was not entirely ready for this immediate reaction from the calf.
She looked down at the massive, fluffy head resting on her knees. The sky-apple sat untouched in her hand, completely unnecessary. A soft smile touched her lips as she reached out to pat the messy fur between its small horn nubs. It was a perfectly calm, quiet relationship.
A small part of her remembered her past life as a salaryman. It was a distant memory now, but one of her key recollections was having pondered the choice of wanting a Shiba Inu. However, her salaryman self had been far too busy with work, and the apartment he lived in did not allow pets.
She supposed this might be like that first moment of finally owning a faithful companion. It was very fluffy, and very warm.
From across the yard, Granny Reshi watched the quiet scene unfold, her eyes crinkling with deep affection. She nodded to herself, feeling a profound sense of peace. To the elderly nun, this was a beautiful confirmation of everything she believed. The young girl had not coaxed, chased, or forced the bond. She had simply existed in perfect, quiet harmony with the world around her, waiting for the wind to answer.
'An old soul of the wind,' Granny Reshi thought to herself, deeply touched by the sight. 'Born with the natural grace and patience of the ancient masters.'
Tanza, completely unaware of the elder's spiritual assumptions, simply scratched behind the calf's ears, glad she had successfully secured the most peaceful, low-maintenance partner in the entire stable.
Looking down at the gentle, breathing weight on her knees, she decided on a name. It felt only appropriate to reach back into her oldest memories to find it. "Hachi," Tanza murmured softly, scratching a particularly itchy spot behind the calf's left ear nub. "Your name will be Hachi."
It was a quiet nod to Hachiko, the legendary Akita who embodied absolute, unwavering fidelity. In a world where a sky bison was destined to be a lifelong partner, she could think of no better designation for her primary asset.
Hearing the name, the shaggy calf let out a soft, vibratory snort against her legs, as if approving the contract. From a distance, Granny Reshi smiled even wider, turning the name over in her mind. 'Hachi. A simple, grounding sound'. To the elder, it felt like the choice of a child deeply attuned to the natural rhythm of things.
Tanza simply watched her new companion lazily close its eyes. She felt the steady, radiating warmth of the thick fur against her linen robes.
14 BG
The meditation hall of the lower terrace quarters was a sanctuary of profound, absolute stillness. Built directly into the underside of the Western Air Temple's massive cliff face, the room was designed to embrace the canyon winds rather than shut them out.
Rows of tall, arched windows stood open to the sky, allowing the cold alpine air to sweep over the smooth stone floor. To anyone else, the draft would have been bone-chilling, but for the dozen female airbender masters and elder nuns seated in the chamber, the wind was simply part of their breathing.
Master Kelsang sat cross-legged near the center of the hall, her hands resting lightly on her knees. Her eyes were gently closed, her breathing long, deep, and unhurried. Around her, the collective silence of the other masters felt heavy and grounded, a shared focus that hummed quietly through the stone.
For Kelsang, this was her favorite time of the day, a rare moment of complete calm before the busy temple chores demanded her attention.
Then, the air shifted.
It wasn't a sudden gust or a loud disturbance. Instead, it was a subtle alteration in the room's atmospheric pressure, a gentle ripple in the wind currents that every master in the room felt instantly on their bare skin. Kelsang's internal rhythm faltered for a fraction of a second. Across the hall, the slight rustle of linen robes signaled that the other nuns had felt it too, their deep focus momentarily fracturing.
The heavy wooden doors at the back of the hall didn't creak, but the draft changing directions announced the arrival of the newcomer.
Granny Paaru shuffled into the meditation room. The elderly nun moved with the slow, deliberate grace of someone who had spent eighty years navigating the steep, upside-down spires of the temple. Her heavy wool robes rustled softly against the floorboards.
Despite her frail, slightly hunched posture, Paaru's presence carried an undeniable weight. She was a master of the old generation, an anchor of the temple's history.
Paaru didn't say a word. She didn't need to. She simply walked a few paces into the room, her sandals making no sound on the polished stone, and stopped.
Kelsang kept her eyes closed for one more breath, trying to anchor her focus, but she could feel the old woman's gaze locked onto her. Yielding to the pressure, Kelsang slowly opened her eyes.
Through the dim, candle-lit shadows of the hall, Granny Paaru was staring directly at her. Her faded eyes held a profound, wordless gravity, a look that Kelsang knew all too well from her days as an acolyte. It was a look that didn't request a conversation; it quietly demanded one.
The other masters in the room remained still, but Kelsang could feel their passive awareness shifting toward her, a silent curiosity hanging in the air.
Understanding the unspoken command, Kelsang gave a small, respectful nod to her former master. She uncrossed her legs with smooth precision, rising to her feet without letting her robes flap against the wind. Keeping her posture humble, she quietly stepped around the other meditating nuns and followed the elderly woman out of the hall.
As the heavy wooden doors swung shut behind them, cutting off the collective silence of the meditation room, Kelsang stepped onto the open-air balcony. The canyon wind immediately caught her hair, carrying the distant, crisp scent of the ocean from the massive drop far below.
Kelsang offered a warm, slightly amused smile, trying to lighten the elderly woman's serious mood. "You look heavy with thought this morning, Granny Paaru. Did the kitchen monks burn the morning porridge again, or has the Elders' Council run out of tea leaves?" She lightly jested, earning an equally amused small smile from her former master.
The elderly nun let a warm, grandmotherly smile break across her weathered face at Kelsang's little joke, the deep lines around her eyes crinkling with fondness. She shook her head softly, a quiet chuckle escaping her lips before she turned her gaze outward. Together, the two women stepped closer to the edge of the stone balustrade, looking out over the immense, cloudy chasm of the monastery.
Below them, the inversion of the Western Air Temple stretched down into the canyon like frozen stalactites of carved stone, their spires hanging suspended over a sea of shifting white mist. The wind howled softly from the depths, carrying the faint, salty tang of the distant ocean.
A comfortable minute of silence settled between them. The only sound was the steady rustle of their saffron robes dancing in the alpine draft as both women reflected in their own ways.
Granny Paaru looked at the young nun beside her, her mind drifting backward through the decades. She reflected on just how much time had slipped away since she had been Kelsang's active master.
It felt like only yesterday she was chasing a hyperactive, clumsy little girl through these very corridors, correcting her posture and teaching her to feel the micro-currents of the canyon. Now, that same girl stood before her as a fully realized master, tall, capable, and radiating a calm, steady strength. The cycle of the temples was a beautiful, unstoppable river.
Beside her, Kelsang kept her eyes fixed on the rolling clouds below, her internal thoughts striking a far more bittersweet note. She had known the moment she opened her eyes in the meditation hall exactly what this summons meant. Her former master had finally come to pull her out of her comfort zone.
It was time to step into the role she had been avoiding. 'How much time has passed', Kelsang reflected silently, a wave of profound nostalgia washing over her. She had run from the responsibility of leadership for a few years now. But looking at the gentle frailty in Paaru's hunched shoulders, she realized the torch had to be passed eventually.
Finally, Granny Paaru broke the silence, her voice soft but carrying the undeniable weight of the temple's ancient traditions. She didn't look at Kelsang, keeping her eyes anchored to the horizon.
"Are you ready, Kelsang?" the elderly woman asked quietly, the canyon wind catching her words. "Are you finally ready to be a master?"
Kelsang let out a soft, dramatic sigh, though the corner of her mouth twitched upward into a wry smile. "Well, I suppose we might as well get on with it then," she jested, leaning her hips back against the stone railing. "It is the only reason I've been sticking around the lower terrace quarters for the past two years, anyway. I can only sweep so many walkways before the elders start looking at me funny."
She shifted her gaze back to her former master, tilting her head curiously. "Is there any girl in particular of note this year? Or are you just going to lead me to the group of six-year-olds and let me select one on my own?"
Granny Paaru chuffed in pure, grandmotherly amusement, the soft sound barely carrying over the rustle of the canyon breeze. She turned away from the edge of the chasm, her hands folding neatly into the wide sleeves of her saffron robes.
"You know our ways better than that, Kelsang," Paaru remarked softly, her eyes twinkling with ancient wisdom. "The wind will guide you to your student. We do not choose them for you. When you look upon her, you will know exactly who to select. It is not our place to interfere with what the world has already aligned."
Kelsang offered a respectful, if slightly skeptical, nod. She knew the traditional philosophy well, but part of her still wondered if the elders already had a specific child in mind.
Without another word, the elderly nun began to shuffle toward the grand staircase, and Kelsang fell into step right beside her. Together, the two women began their physical ascent, moving upward from the quiet isolation of the lower terraces.
They navigated the winding, cliff-hugging steps that led directly into the heart of the Western Air Temple, where the massive, upside-down spires hung suspended from the mountain ceiling like architectural stalactites. As they climbed higher into the buzzing energy of the monastery, the distant laughter and chatter of the young acolytes began to echo through the stone corridors.
Tanja 6 years old, 14 BG
While recess carried out among her sister peers, she herself elected to train with the staff under the supervision of Granny Reshi, while Granny Pemi watched over the rest. Tanza committed herself to spin her staff with practical ease; she wanted to wield the weapon like it was second nature to her.
She knew, of course, that the Sister Monks taught about their ways of pacifism, but that did not lie in the way of being self-defensive. On top of that, the sanctity of life was equal parts tenuous and very debatable. To Tanza, life was a valuable resource that should not be squandered carelessly in aggressive conflicts, but it was a resource she would absolutely defend with force if anyone threatened her own survival.
Thrust. Rotate. Recover.
The light wood whistled cleanly through the air, completely separate from the sounds of the children giggling behind her. To Granny Reshi, it looked like a beautiful display of a young prodigy mastering the flowing dance of the element. To Tanza, she was securing her own perimeter, ensuring her body moved with the automatic, unthinking precision of a well-maintained piece of machinery.
As she sped up the movement of spinning the staff around her, she began channeling weak gusts of wind through each spin, thrust, and flick of the wood. The compressed air hissed as she rotated her weapon around herself, forming a tight, defensive vortex.
She imagined an incoming earthbending attack bursting from the ground beneath her feet. Reacting instantly, she altered her trajectory mid-spin, raising the staff to whistle fiercely above herself as she launched her small body backward, executing a flawless backflip that transitioned smoothly into a low, sideways spin.
She landed lightly on her bare feet, her staff snapping back into a perfect, silent guard position. Not a single flagstone clicked beneath her weight.
Granny Reshi chuckled warmly from her bench, clapping her wrinkled hands together for her. "Very nice, little Tanza!" She congratulated her. "But try using some airbending for your landing next time. It helps cushion your feet and body!"
"Thank you, Granny Reshi," she responded respectfully, before internally chiding herself. 'That's right. I was so caught up in my imaginary evasion and attack, I forgot to use airbending to soften my landing'. She had been entirely focused on using her own muscle control to balance herself out on the stone floor, completely overlooking the very element she was wielding.
While Tanza continued her staff training under the careful eye of Granny Reshi, Kelsang stood beside Granny Paaru at the entrance of the recess grounds. Her hands were tucked neatly into the wide sleeves of her robes, a single eyebrow raised in pure intrigue. Most of the other young girls were scattered across the yard, playing simple, lighthearted games with their airbending. Tanza, however, immediately pulled Kelsang's attention away from the crowd.
Paaru stood quietly beside her former student, her arms folded behind her slightly slouched back. A soft, knowing smirk touched her lips as she noticed out of the corner of her eye exactly where Kelsang's gaze had drifted.
"Already selected your student, I take it?" the elderly nun murmured softly.
Kelsang blinked a few times, her eyes fixed on the young girl who was already resuming her self-imposed training. She watched closely as Tanza adjusted her posture, consciously choosing to weave more of her airbending into her next staff strikes and landings to cushion her feet against the hard stone.
"… That one," Kelsang said quietly, her curiosity thoroughly piqued. "What is her name?"
She couldn't take her eyes off her. Kelsang was suddenly very interested in this child, recognizing the unmistakable signs of a remarkable, rising prodigy in the making.
"Her name is Tanza," Granny Paaru replied softly, her eyes crinkling as she watched the young girl spin the wooden staff with absolute focus. "And she is quite a special case, even for our temple."
Kelsang kept her eyes locked on Tanza, watching the girl execute another clean parry against an imaginary foe. "A special case? How so?"
Paaru chuckled, a quiet, rustling sound that was quickly swallowed by the canyon wind. "While her peers are still learning to balance on river stones, little Tanza has already mastered four full tiers of her training on her own. And at the exact pace she is going right now, she will likely finish four more before the year is out. The elders believe she carries a very old soul of the wind."
Kelsang's eyes widened slightly. For a six-year-old child to clear the foundational tiers of airbending without a personal master was practically unheard of. It was a staggering level of natural discipline and skill.
Looking at the small, intensely focused girl practicing in the middle of the yard, Kelsang felt a sudden, profound shift in her own heart. The wind had made its choice clear. She wasn't just looking at a normal student, she was looking at her future acolyte.