A World Of Grey (Legend of Korra)

Chapter 15

Gan blinked awake, making a sound that was halfway between a groan and a yawn as he brought his hand to his face. He rubbed sleep from the corners of his eyes, opening them afterwards to glance over to his left. A glance was all that was required. Hana had already woken and left the bed. Turning his gaze up to the ceiling, he laid the back of his hand upon his brow, the sound of movement in the kitchen below gradually becoming clearer. He could picture her well enough. She would move swiftly and precisely, never a moment or movement wasted, no matter the task at hand.

Gan contemplated whether he should stay in bed and enjoy a few more minutes of peace and comfort, or go downstairs and greet his wife before she departed from the house as silently as a ghost, a mere note left in her absence. At the back of his mind, Gan knew there was little merit to be had in the latter option. Nevertheless, he found himself pushing back the covers, dropping his legs over the edge of the bed to blindly seek out his slippers. A yawn racked his form as he shuffled over to the curtains, closing his eyes with a sigh of resignation as harsh golden light spilled into the room.

Dressed in only a thin cotton shirt and a pair of grey shorts, Gan stepped out of the bedroom onto the landing and headed for the bathroom. Their six year old daughter's room lay between the two, and Gan quietly pushed open the door to look in on her. She was very much tucked into bed, the cream covers bunched around her small form as high as her shoulders. A doll lay askew upon the pillow, threatening to fall to the floor entirely if the girl so much as turned. Gan briefly stepped into the room and moved the doll to sit on the window sill with her sisters, friends and cousins. Akiko was quite fond of her little family.

Looking down at her sleeping form, blissful oblivious to the world, brought to Gan a small smile he knew would not last the morning. No doubt she was enjoying another fanciful dream, one she would later share with her father and wonder why the details did not enthral him as it did her. Gan sometimes dreamed too, of a past that had long since shrivelled and withered to dust. Of the woman he had fallen in love with and married. He could once think of nothing else but her, and could hardly utter a word without her name waiting on the tip of his tongue. But that was then. The manner in which she entered his thoughts now was entirely different.

Gan asked himself why, as he splashed cold water onto his face and regarded the mirror above the basin, why he thought this day would be any different. He knew that it would not be and yet he could not disregard the vain hope that, perhaps today, things would change.

"Morning," he said as he stepped into the kitchen. Her back was to him as she busied herself at the sink, washing up and drying the dishes that had been left overnight. She was already dressed for work, a seam running down the length of her trousers, jacket smooth and fitted to her form, epaulettes symmetrical and bearing the insignia of her rank. Her cap lay on the table, and Gan glanced to it just before she spoke.

"You're up," Hana said, not turning to him.

"Yeah," Gan said, picking up the cap and turning it in his hands. A familiar silence began to stretch between them. Gan frowned slightly as he considered his wife's back.

Her hair fell just shy of the base of her neck, black and straight. Gan remembered when it had been long, almost a lifetime ago it seemed. Long, soft and shimmering. He loved to comb his fingers through it, to feel each lock glide along his skin. A lifetime ago, he might have stolen up behind her, announcing his presence with arms curved around her waist and the nestling of his chin upon the crook of her shoulder, murmuring sweet nothings along with his morning greeting. He would not dare do that now. He did not know if he even wanted to.

"Going in early?"

"Yes," Hana replied, placing the last of the dishes upon the rack to dry. "I have some papers that need sorting."