Suki's breathing was ragged. Blood pounded at her temples in an uneven rhythm, as if her body were still running even though she was still. The shattered wall behind her shed damp splinters that scraped her back, and her armor—her proud Kyoshi armor—had a nasty gash right over her stomach.
But none of that was what was churning her chest.
It was him.
Ren.
She still remembered the way the animal had lunged. That huge, dark leap… lethal. Suki had misjudged the distance, the weight of the sea wolf, the speed. She had fought bandits, lesser animals, rival trainers. Never against something so determined to rip out her throat.
And when she saw the fangs descend…
For a second she thought she would die.
But then Ren had interposed himself. Not with fire—she remembered that well—but with his body, with pure strength. The ease with which he had broken the animal's inertia… the millimetric precision… the clean movement of his arm… none of it fit with what she had seen in him until now.
Who was this man?
"Why could I feel his strength while he held me?"
That thought hit her even harder than the fear.
—"Can you stand up?" he had said.
His voice still echoed in her mind, warm but controlled. The voice of someone who didn't ask permission to protect. Of someone who knew exactly what to do. Of someone dangerous… but undeniably reliable.
When she tried to get up and her leg gave out, she felt Ren's hand take her by the waist, firm, sure, without hesitation. That contact had stirred a tremor in her chest that irritated her.
"Ridiculous… I can't— I shouldn't…"
Suki was a warrior. Not an impressionable girl. Not a villager guided by impulse. Her life was discipline, training, responsibility.
But none of that stopped a strange heat from rising to her face when he held her.
Nor did it stop her, upon seeing his expression—calm, serious, focused—from feeling something inside her give way without her permission.
And when he said:
—"You're not alone, Suki. Not while I'm here."
The phrase lodged itself somewhere vulnerable. A place she thought was buried under layers of paint, tradition, and steel.
Now, as Ren carefully lifted her to carry her on his back, Suki tried to control her breathing.
She couldn't show weakness.
Not in front of Katara.
And especially not in front of him.
But her fingers, clutching his shoulders, were trembling.
And he knew.
He knew because he spoke first.
The village was silent as they advanced. The moon bathed the roofs in a soft glow, and each step Ren took made Suki feel a slight vibration in her chest, as if her breathing were synchronizing with the movement.
The warmth of his back contrasted with the cold breeze hitting their faces. Suki could feel, through the damp, taut fabric of his shirt, the defined strength of the man carrying her.
An unsettling strength.
A comforting strength.
Ren broke the silence with a calm that disarmed her.
—"You're tense."
Suki pressed her lips together.
—"I'm not—"… she swallowed air, too conscious of how close she was to him. "My leg just hurts."
Ren smiled just enough for her to feel it, not to see it.
—"I've carried wounded before. That tension isn't just pain."
Suki looked away, even though he couldn't see her. The wind blew her hair forward, gently hitting the back of Ren's neck.
—"Anyone would be nervous after almost dying," she said, trying to sound cold.
—"Yes," he said softly. "But you're not nervous because of that."
Suki's heart hammered hard, unexpected.
—"And why… do you think I'm nervous?" she asked, hatefully aware of the tremor that betrayed her voice.
Ren took a few more steps before answering. His voice came out slow, measured, as if he didn't want to crush her with the truth… but also not give her room to deny it.
—"Because you were protected," he whispered. "And you're not used to that."
Suki closed her eyes. The air grew heavy.
She wasn't used to it. It was true. Ever since she put on the Kyoshi paint at fourteen, she had been the shield. The responsible one. The one who couldn't fail.
No one had ever put her behind them.
No one had ever treated her as someone who deserved to be saved.
—"You didn't need to intervene," Suki said, though it sounded more vulnerable than she intended. "I could have… found another way to take it down."
Ren didn't mock. He didn't correct. He didn't deny.
—"I know."
The sincerity caught her by surprise.
—"Then… why did you do it?"
Ren took a deep breath. She felt it. She felt his chest expand, his shoulders tense slightly under the pressure of her hands.
—"Because you were in danger," he replied, as if it were obvious. "And because you are not replaceable, Suki."
The word fell like a stone into water.
Replaceable.
It was a word she had never articulated, but secretly feared. The Kyoshi Warriors were a group, a legacy, a symbol. Not individuals.
But he had seen her as an individual. As someone unique. As someone important.
Suki felt a knot form in her throat.
—"You shouldn't… say things like that," she murmured, trying to hide the tremor.
—"Why not?"
His voice was still just as calm. Almost dangerous.
Suki tightened her grip on Ren's shoulders.
—"Because it makes people let their guard down," she whispered.
Ren stopped for an instant. Suki felt him turn his face slightly to the side, as if contemplating the phrase, as if analyzing it.
—"Only people who have never received support let their guard down when they feel it for the first time," he said. "And that's not a bad thing, Suki. It's something human."
Suki couldn't answer.
She had no way to.
The silence returned, but it was no longer uncomfortable. It was warm. It was… intimate.
The wind blew harder as they reached the hill where the warriors' main hut was. The wood creaked, the leaves moved like whispers.
Suki leaned her forehead against Ren's shoulder without thinking. Maybe from pain. Maybe from exhaustion. Maybe from that strange need to feel safe for one more second.
Ren didn't move.
He didn't comment.
He just kept walking.
And on his back, Suki felt something she didn't want to admit:
That for the first time in a long time…
she allowed herself to rest.
Not because she was surrendering.
But because he was holding her.