AN:: I'm back, darlings.

This idea just came to me, I don't know why. I was just watching "The Avatar and the Firelord" again, and I realized that all the Avatars had to go through the same experience Roku did. So, naturally, I wondered what that must have been like for the other Avatars…

Specifically, Kyoshi.

And for the record: I'm making some stuff up here…bear with me, I didn't have a lot to work with (besides the fact that she had big feet). I created most of the characters besides Kyoshi from my own imagination. Her husband? My idea.

And if he resembles Sokka and she resembles Suki…well, then.

Disclaimer: I don't own Avatar, blahblahblah…don't expect me to say that for every chapter. It gets rather monotonous. Don't deny it. You think so too.

"You make that face painting look so good."

She chuckles, placing the finishing touches on the red above her eyes. "You're making fun of me."

"If you say so," he replies vaguely. She can hear him stretching out on the bed behind her, barely awake. "I still think it looks lovely."

"Thank you, love," she replies, sitting down beside him. Even half-asleep, his eyes still have that brilliant shade of blue she fell in love with—the color of water, she used to tell him. He would always reply that water was clear, not blue.

"You're a fashion pioneer," he continues. "There are already girls trying to imitate you. You see them walking down the street? Same makeup. Same outfit."

Kyoshi laughs. "Several of them have come to me, asking them to teach them how to fight. I think they're inspired by the fact that the Avatar is female."

"And who wouldn't be?" he asks with a grin. "You inspire me."

"You're a hopeless romantic, Kelikko," she tells him happily, slapping his arm.

His grin only widens. "And so what if I am? You love me for it."

"And conceited as well! How could I marry such a heathen?"

"Must have been your upbringing. Did your mother marry a heathen too?" he jokes. "That kind of insanity is hereditary, you know."

Kyoshi looks away, standing up. She is fully dressed, her hair done up, her makeup covering her face. She glances out the window. She can see the people walking by, navigating streets that are all-too-familiar to her. "My mother drowned when I was just a child," she replies, keeping her voice strong. "I barely knew her. I never knew my father, or my grandfather. My grandmother was my only source of strength."

Kelikko sits up slightly, propping his head up and resting his chin on his hand. "You've never told me that."

She turns to look at him; her eyes are bright with affection, yet her voice is quiet. "I haven't told you about my childhood, have I?"

"No, you haven't," he says, pretending to scold her. "I told you all about mine!"

She tilts her head back and laughs. He just thinks of how beautiful she is when she does that. "Oh yes, of getting your first spear, getting trapped on a floating iceberg, getting rescued by your little waterbending sister…I've heard all about it."

"And were you such a perfect angel?"

"Not in the slightest!"

"Kyoshi!"

The girl sat up quickly with a gasp—too quickly. Her head immediately began to spin…she had been lying down for far too long. "Yes?" she called back, holding a hand to her dizzying head.

"Get over here now! I thought I told you to clean the kitchen before I got home!"

Kyoshi rubbed her eyes and blinked. She must have fallen asleep; it seemed like her grandmother had left only a few minutes ago."Yes, grandmother," she replied. "I'll be right down."

"You'd better, girl, or I'll have your hide!"

Kyoshi started to get up, then sat back down. Grandmother could wait a few more minutes, couldn't she? So instead, she rested on her elbows, and looked out from her vantage point over the sea of rooftops before her. She was on her own roof, resting in the thatch. Her dark brown hair had originally been in a bun; some of it had fallen, to frame her oval face. It wasn't a very pretty face. It was too long, too gaunt. She wasn't skinny, she was broad-shouldered. Her body held very little feminine shape. She was teased mercilessly by some boys in the town, who always took every opportunity to make fun of her appearance. They called her Bigfoot and Ostrichface, Blobby and Puke-eyes.

However, other people never failed to comment on her eyes: her vibrant, emerald green eyes. They were always bright and full of life. They often flashed when she was defiant or angry, and had shed tears on more than one occasion. But they remained the most beautiful part of her face—and therefore, the part that the village boys needed to make fun of.

The roof was her favorite place to go. It always had been. She could see the entire village from there, almost the entire peninsula. Her hometown was situated on a rather thin peninsula, off of the Earth Kingdom mainland. She loved it dearly. Every night, when she opened the attic door to clamber on to the roof, she wished on a star (and on a Giant Koi if she saw one, surfacing in the sea). What did she wish? Ah, it changed every night. Sometimes it was that she would one day meet her father. Sometimes she wished for a sign from her mother. Sometimes she wished for material things, like a new dress, or a pet.

More often than not, she wished that her grandmother would be proud of her.

The woman was so critical, so hard to please. And although Kyoshi sometimes went out of her way to annoy the elderly witch, most of the time she obeyed her quietly, and without question. She found herself feeling sorry for the woman who had lost her only daughter, and her husband, only to be left with the sniveling granddaughter who had nowhere else to go.

"KYOSHI!"

Her grandmother's shout made her jump nearly out of her skin. "I'm coming!" she yelled back quickly. The girl scrambled up, fighting to get out of the clingy thatch and make her way to the attic door. She was in for a lecture.

-x-x-

Grandmother Jillian waited in the kitchen, hands on her hips, right foot tapping the floor impatiently. Kyoshi careened around the corner, screeching to a halt in front of her, completely out of breath. She bowed her head, unable to look her guardian in the face.

Then there came a silence, where the only sounds in the room were Kyoshi's labored breathing, and Grandmother's tapping foot.

"You have straw in your hair, Kyoshi," Grandmother chided, none-too-gently. "Where were you?"

Kyoshi's response was breathless. "On the roof, Grandmother."

The old woman suddenly threw her hands up in the air, her calm anger gone. "On the roof? On the roof? Kyoshi! You were supposed to be cleaning the kitchen!"

"I know, Grandm—"

"What were you doing up there? Daydreaming while humming a song? Braiding a crown of flowers? Sleeping?"

"Sleeping, Grandmother."

"Sleeping?" Her grandmother's mouth worked up and down for a moment, as if she had something to say, but couldn't find the air. Kyoshi looked back down at the floor, abashed.

"I'll clean it now, Grandmother."

"Yes, you will!" Apparently she had found her voice again. She took a broom from behind her and shoved it into Kyoshi's waiting hands. "You're nearly 16, Kyoshi. It's time for you to start taking some responsibility." All at once, Grandmother seemed to sag. When she looked at Kyoshi again, the girl noticed a certain sadness buried deep behind her eyes. "You've been nothing but trouble, Kyoshi. Staying out past curfew, going out to play while leaving the pies burning in the oven, forgetting to feed the animals…Why don't you listen to me? Why are you so…"

The words trailed off into silence. Kyoshi felt her guilt rising inside her like bile. "I'm sorry, Grandmother."

The old woman sighed. "No, you're not. Saying the words can only do so much, Kyoshi. If you don't mean them, it won't make you or me feel any better." She turned and walked away, brushing past Kyoshi as she did so. Kyoshi noticed that her walk was weaker now, and her back was bent over more.

She had never realized how old her Grandmother was.

-x-x-

The wicker basket fit nicely into the crook of her elbow, swinging as she walked down the street. A couple of days had passed, and her hair was neatly in a bun. Against her Grandmother's wishes, she had worn her new dress; it was an emerald green to complement her eyes, and fastened around her waist with a golden rope. She had even put makeup on for the occasion—black eyeliner, with a little bit of lipstick.

It was market day.

Grandmother had been feeling too tired to go, and Kyoshi understood perfectly. The market was crowded and loud. There was much walking, standing, and listening to talkative people who only wanted to speak about useless things, like the harvest or the weather. So she had sent Kyoshi.

She found the things on her list very quickly; she was used to the marketplace, and knew exactly where to go and how to get there. First came the butter, then the bread, then the fruits and berries, then the cheese…

She made her way over to an empty corner of the street, glancing at her basket. Good-quality things, for good prices. It was the largest advantage of the market, and it was the reason why so many people turned out for it. She took out her coin purse. When she looked in, she was surprised to see so many coins at the bottom. Apparently, she had been a very good bargain-shopper. Should she buy something now? Or bring the money back home to Grandmother?

She should buy something. Something for Grandmother. She had been so tired…so weary. Old age was beginning to catch up to her, Kyoshi suspected. How about a nice dress, to make her feel young again? Or a beautiful necklace?

The girl melted back into the throng, the perfect market stall in mind. The owner was a rather large woman by the name of Lixian, and she always gave out good bargains. Lixian waved to Kyoshi as she approached, looking cheerful.

"Kyoshi, my girl! How are you?"

"Good, thank you," Kyoshi replied with a smile, looking over the wares. There were quite a few good things she could buy for Grandmother. There was a nice maroon dress with silver trimmings, a silver necklace with a winged pig as a pendant, a nice bangle bracelet with green ribbon—

"Hey look, it's Bigfoot. Looking for something to make you more beautiful, Blobby?" Kyoshi stiffened. Every bone in her body was screaming at her to run, run, run…

"Ha, that's a lost cause, eh boys? Nothing could make Blobby beautiful."

"Her dress is prettier than her!"

A boy suddenly gripped her chin, turning it sharply to face the group of boys behind her. They were all around her age, and they were all dirty and ragged. The boy holding her chin laughed obnoxiously. "Lookie here, boys! She's wearin' makeup!"

The boys howled with laughter. Kyoshi blushed furiously, her green eyes flashing with humiliation and anger.

"The makeup only makes her uglier!" one of them crowed.

"Brings out her Puke-Eyes!"

Kyoshi slapped away the boy's hand; it wasn't a hard slap, but he was so surprised, he dropped her chin right away. He threw her a shocked and angry glance, but she had already turned away.

Lixian was stammering, trying to calm the girl down. "Listen, Kyoshi, th-they don't know wh-what they're saying…"

Kyoshi slammed a hand down on her table, scaring the wits out of the large woman. "Yes they do," she hissed softly. She quickly chose several objects of makeup, gathering them into her arms, and rushed behind Lixian's stall curtain.

As she had suspected, there was a mirror and a dressing table there. Lixian had always liked to look her best. Kyoshi spread out the tins of makeup, and began to work.

She didn't know what made her paint her face the way she did. It was a combination of all things, really. Her Grandmother, the first time she had seen the girl, pinched her cheeks and said, 'Daughter, your girl is so pale!'

So Kyoshi painted her face white.

Her eyebrows had often been a target of mockery. 'Look at Little Miss Bushy-Brow over there. It looks like she's growin' a forest on her forehead!'

So Kyoshi painted them arched and beautiful.

When she had first tried on makeup, it had been red blush. Her Grandmother had immediately said, 'Kyoshi, red doesn't go well on you at all. Here, try some gold.'

So Kyoshi painted her lips and eyelids red.

-x-x-

She stormed out from behind the curtain like a wild animal, her eyes glinting with fury. Astonishment was on the faces of all the boys when they first saw her, but she knew they would be laughing soon. She knew she looked ridiculous with all the face paint.

So she wouldn't give them the chance to laugh.

"How ugly do I look now, you ass?" she roared, pitching a makeup tin at the first boy's head. It struck him between the eyes, making him cry out and stagger backwards. The boy behind him was struck in the stomach with the heavy tin of white paint; he let out all his breath in a whoosh, and doubled over. Another boy was hit in the eye with lip paint. His cry was loudest of all.

"Tell me!" she screeched, advancing on them with no makeup left, her hands clenched into fists. "How ugly do I look?!"

One boy started to laugh; she could see the hilarity in his eyes, the way his face was scrunched up when he tried to hold it in.

One good, solid punch knocked his head the other way. He wasn't laughing now. Another boy received a hard kick to the knee. She struck yet another one in the chin with her elbow.

"Let's go boys, let's go! We'll get her back for this another day!" the leader was shouting; the boy who had taken her by the chin. His companions followed eagerly, now afraid of this crazed, clown-faced girl.

No one in the crowd had noticed the scene.

Kyoshi carefully picked up each tin, noting that the first one she had thrown—the black, the one that hit the boy between the eyes—was dented.

She slammed the pouch of coins on Lixian's counter, feeling tears burning behind her eyes. Lixian looked positively terrified.

"I'm sorry," she told the woman, walking away towards home, basket in hand.

-x-x-

Grandmother hadn't seen her when she walked into the house, her steps slow. "Is that you, Kyoshi?" she had called from the other room.

"Yes, Grandmother," she had replied.

"Leave the basket on the table, dear."

"Yes, Grandmother." As soon as the basket touched the wood of the table, Kyoshi was already running up the stairs, sprinting for the comforts of her room.

She ran in, closing the door behind her and locking it. Then she sagged, sliding down against the wood to sit on the floor. She rested her head on her arms, and began to cry.

She was silent. Her sobs were merely gasps, inaudible to anyone outside her room. Her tears rolled down her white cheeks without a sound. Why was the world so cruel? Why was she so ugly?

Puke-eyes.

She had always been proud of her green eyes. When the boys mocked them, saying that they were the color of moldy seaweed or of puke, she felt her own heart clenching painfully. Why did they have to make fun of the one thing that made her feel good about herself?

She got up, walking over to the mirror by her bedside. Her own reflection scared her; she clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle the gasp.

The make-up was now tearstained, but it made no difference.

She wasn't ugly anymore.

Or, at least, no one could see how ugly she was. The make-up covered it entirely. Now she was just a girl with strange make-up—that was all.

She stared at her reflection for a few minutes longer, then she let out her breath in a huge sigh. No matter what paint she put on her face, she would always be ugly. The paint would just hide it. Her movements were weary now. She felt like an old woman as she slowly took the facecloth from the bowl beside her, and gently wiped away the paint from her face.

She would always be ugly. Now she just had a new way to hide it.