Korra was many things—loud, stubborn, wild—but patient wasn't one of them.
Kaiqok learned this the hard way during their very first secret training session. He had chosen a cave outside the village, hidden behind a frozen waterfall. The ceiling shimmered with ice crystals. The air was cold and sharp, but it felt like a sanctuary. Here, far from prying eyes and watchful guards, they could bend and train without judgment.
"Alright," Kaiqok said, standing at the center. "Today's lesson is restraint."
Korra blinked. "What's that?"
He raised a hand. "Exactly."
She groaned dramatically, slumping onto a rock. "But I wanna do the spinning fire kick again!"
"You nearly set your own coat on fire."
"Just a little!" she insisted. "Besides, I felt awesome!"
He chuckled. "And I felt like a father chasing a fire ferret through a burning kitchen."
Korra giggled at that one.
But she stood up anyway, ready.
Kaiqok took a deep breath, letting his fused Sage Mode awaken. His eyes changed—those familiar toad-like slits with glowing gold around the irises—and a wave of stillness spread through the cave.
"Listen to the world," he said. "Every element talks if you know how to hear it."
Korra closed her eyes. "I hear… nothing."
"Exactly. You're trying too hard. Stop reaching—start feeling."
She exhaled. Slowly. Her hands hovered in front of her chest.
For a moment, the air around her shimmered. The puddle beside her rippled. A pebble trembled.
Then—bam—a small burst of fire shot from her palm and singed her boot.
"OW!"
Kaiqok tried not to laugh. "That's a start."
---
They trained every day. In the shadows of the glacier, Korra learned more in weeks than she had in years.
She learned to bend without shouting.
To channel fire like a candle flame instead of an explosion.
To bend water without freezing it by accident.
She learned to feel the wind as breath instead of weapon.
And under Kaiqok's guidance, she began to mix styles—something no teacher had dared let her try before. She created bursts of steam using fire and water. Caused stone shards to float briefly with concentrated wind. She even bent snow into shapes she could ride like a board.
It wasn't perfect.
But it was beautiful.
Kaiqok found himself impressed. Not just by her progress, but by her resilience.
She never gave up.
Never stayed down.
Every time she failed, she got back up, even if her face was covered in soot, or her clothes were soaked, or her hair stood on end.
He liked her that way.
Not as the Avatar. Just… as Korra.
---
One night, after a particularly brutal sparring session involving steam geysers and mudslides, the two of them sat outside the cave. The stars sparkled above, and the snow glowed under moonlight.
Korra sat beside him, hugging her knees.
"Hey, Kai?"
"Hmm?"
"Why're you helping me?"
He blinked. "You don't think you're worth it?"
She frowned. "No, I mean… you're so good at bending. You're smart. Strong. You could've been a teacher or… or something fancy. But you're here. With me."
He smiled softly. "Because you're important."
"To the world?" she asked.
"No," he said. "To me."
She looked over at him, confused.
"You remind me of someone I lost," he said quietly. "Someone I couldn't help in time."
Korra didn't speak for a while. Then she scooted closer and leaned her head on his shoulder.
"I don't get it," she mumbled, "but… I'm glad you're here."
He rested his hand gently on her head. "Me too."
---
But all shadows eventually attract light—and attention.
A week later, Ayaya came to him at dawn. Her cane cracked the ice with every step. Her eyes were sharp as ever.
"You've been training her," she said without preamble.
Kaiqok didn't deny it. "She needs it."
"She is already under the guidance of the White Lotus."
"They're teaching her control," he said. "I'm teaching her purpose."
Ayaya narrowed her eyes. "And what purpose is that?"
"To be more than a weapon."
The old woman studied him. Her breath fogged in the cold.
"You care for her."
"I won't let her break like before."
Ayaya tilted her head. "Before?"
Kaiqok didn't answer.
But the air thickened.
Ayaya reached into her sleeve and handed him something—a small stone talisman etched with ancient water tribe script. It glowed faintly when it touched his palm.
"What's this?"
"A marker," she said. "If things go wrong, break it. The spirits will know where to find you."
He tucked it away.
And just like that, she walked off into the mist.
---
Elsewhere, in the edge of the southern ice plains, a stranger knelt by an abandoned campfire. The embers were still warm.
He wore a white mask with red markings—familiar to no one in this time.
But his eyes burned with purpose.
"A boy wrapped in gold," he muttered. "A child not of this world. The spirits were right…"
He stood and turned toward the mountains.
"I'll find him."