So far I haven't found major differences in basic physics, so advanced physics probably isn't different either. Which leaves the question—where does the energy come from? And why is bender fatigue almost always purely physical, never "mental," "moral," or whatever.
Yes, as you can see, a lot of things surfaced in my head while reading various books. The books, by the way, were surprisingly good and competent. There was entertainment, but if I picked up a treatise on philosophical sciences, it turned out to be a synthesis of all exact sciences. Ten pages of dry conclusions, proofs, and examples. Though of course not without musings on the eternal.
There's no separate mathematics, physics, or chemistry yet. The names exist, but they're not studied separately except maybe in advanced institutions I know nothing about. Most likely such places exist, but the "from Master to Apprentice" principle is still very much in use everywhere.
Strange combination, honestly. Somewhere students sit around a sensei absorbing the wisdom of an elder, somewhere else they scribble in notebooks, bored in class, staring at what the strict teacher is drawing on the board.
But in any case, literacy is widespread. Unlike the Earth Kingdom or Water Tribes. If I say the word "multiplication" in my country, people won't fall into sacred awe. Or put me on a pike. In other nations, anything is possible…
Before dinner I was documenting everything I could remember in different fields. It wasn't going great. When I read something and knowledge surfaced, it was easy, but when I had to recall and write it down… the feeling was like being asked to tell a joke after reading the world's best joke collection—your head is still empty, and you just blink at the person, trying to birth something from that void.
Same here—hours spent trying to squeeze anything out of myself. So far only fragments, which I'll probably sort on some board like cops in American detective shows… damn, again. Write it down or not? Probably not, but…
Anyway, I'll meticulously connect things about this world with red strings, natural sciences—like the earth being round—with green, and so on. If I'm not too lazy.
Just because I ended up in this world doesn't mean I suddenly got a second wind to wake up at five, exercise, and work till night. Same old habits: barely open my eyes by ten, only start doing something by twelve, and by twelve-thirty I'm deep in thoughts about the meaning of life just to avoid doing anything.
And here I am again procrastinating to delay this damn dinner even a little. Brr, how I hate these ceremonial family feasts.
Well, whatever—needs must. So I got up, (almost) neatly stacked today's scribbles, and headed to the "traditional" hall.
The whole family was already gathered. And when I say whole, I mean whole. Only recently did I learn that this house belongs to the entire family—including uncle, his wife, and son. We live in different wings of this huge estate, so I rarely saw them, and they weren't eager to look at me either, which is why I thought the house belonged only to my father and mother.
There was only one traditional room, unlike the regular dining rooms (there were several) where we usually ate separately. But tonight was special—news of the "Wow, how interesting" and "Thanks, Captain Obvious" variety.
Standing in the checkered doorway, I sighed heavily and opened the gates of hell… opened the door, and immediately every family member's gaze locked onto me. And not exactly pleased ones—quite the opposite.
"Akimaru, you're late again," Uncle Ji stated dryly.
His name is just Ji. To me it sounds like part of something longer, but here such a name is respected. Who knows why. Maybe because it perfectly matches our clan's phonetic pattern. Anyway, he named his son the same—Ji. Ji, son of Ji. Sounds like a rapper's stage name.
Yo, it's Ji Junior, y'all ready? I said I don't hear you!
God, what nonsense climbs into my head. Definitely because of the unstable memory.
"Sorry, uncle, I just got absorbed in reading," I said with a slight bow. Yes, there's etiquette built around bows and such, but like the rest, it's more tradition now than anything important, and rumor has it even at the palace they turn a blind eye to inaccuracies. Though they can still rub your face in it, of course.
The only thing that remains important is to somehow indicate a bow or at least a nod and make the fist-plus-open-palm gesture in front of you.
At my attempt at manners, uncle only grimaced and gestured for me to sit. My place was closest to the door at the edge of the table. Agni knows if that means anything or just how it turned out. I haven't figured out local traditions that deeply yet. And don't really plan to.
Something tells me they'll lose all value in my lifetime anyway.
They eat with chopsticks here—who would've thought. Though forks and spoons exist and are used everywhere, chopsticks haven't died out either. Well, I'm fine with that. As long as it's not with hands—already good.
Okay, let's hear why we're all gathered today.
***
"So, I wanted to discuss a couple of things today," uncle finally got to the point after a long half-hour of dinner. "First, Ji, Deiji—how are your firebending studies going?"
This buzzing isn't for nothing. Ji is one year older than me. And he's been studying bending for at least a year and a half. An obvious question arises. Why the hell… why am I only being taught to read and write, and even that I practically had to fight for? If I don't have bending in a world of bending, I'll fall into depression and officially declare this my personal hell. Not only does bending automatically raise one's status (even unofficially, people treat you better), but a ton of things become simply unavailable. For starters, I can't even challenge anyone to Agni Kai. How to defend honor in that case—I honestly still don't know.
"I learned a couple new moves; the teacher even praised me," Ji said lazily, shrugging. He didn't give a damn and just wanted to finish this meeting quickly and go hang out with friends.
"Hm, and you, Deiji?" uncle turned to my brother.
By the way, his name sounds a bit weird to my ear. The "з" isn't really "z" but something between "z" and "zh," so it comes out like "Deiji," only softer. That's where my "Daisy" association comes from. For some reason it reminds me of a dog's name, but my brother doesn't seem to mind. So neither will I.
"I learned three new kata," Deiji reported quickly and clearly.
By the way, what they're doing can barely be called firebending yet. So far it's just martial-arts-style warm-up, and they've only just been taught to produce tiny flames. All Fire Nation martial arts are inherently part of firebending. Tautology at its finest.
"Not bad," Uncle Ji deigned to evaluate. "And you, Akimaru—as far as I know, you've been studying writing and reading for quite some time. How are your results?"
Whoa, something new. They usually forgot about me the moment I sat down.
"I can already read and write. Now I'm learning calligraphy and mastering the subtleties of our language," I answered.
By the way, writing and calligraphy are different things. The first is just the ability to write, the second… to write beautifully. At first I didn't want to bother, what's the point? But when documenting something in the local language took forever and left an unacceptable number of ink blots… I realized that at least for the sake of my nerves it's worth learning to write local characters quickly and accurately.
Father grimaced at my words like he'd eaten a lemon. Why? I'm doing useful things… okay, time to open Pandora's box in my mind and admit that I apparently have no firebending. And that ritual was exactly about that.
But I still think everyone else is wrong and I'm the special one. In the sense that they missed my talent. After all, what kind of isekai protagonist has no bending?
The kind who trains from morning till night and finds some long-lost method invented by a clever progressive isekai protagonist passed hand-to-hand on how to be the coolest without "pew-pew," my own inner voice immediately answered.
Well, I'm not him. As I said, I'm too lazy even for morning exercises. Though a rational part of me offers decent excuses: without a competent person supervising my efforts, nothing good will come of it.
Unless, of course, in my previous life I was a master of every martial art and took down tigers with one hand while dismantling bears bare-handed. Then maybe I have a chance. But somehow I seriously doubt it.
"Hmm, good," uncle nodded to his own thoughts.
Something definitely died in the woods. Something bi-i-ig.
"That's a very good result for your age," Ji decided to elaborate, apparently noticing something on my face. "Usually children can read the books you take from the library only after at least two years at the academy."
Yeah, and also children who don't have experience from a previous life.
"What was the last book you read?" uncle kept digging for some reason.
"Firebending for Dummies—First Manual," I thought, but said aloud something else.
"Basics of Breathing for Firebending," I decided to try my luck. Maybe I misunderstood everything and they'll give me a teacher right now.
I actually read that book two weeks ago, but I'm not going to admit I'm studying local exact sciences. They might get the wrong idea. Better to know how to count to ten, say you can count to three, and show counting to two. A thought from a local book. Not sure about the exact quote, but that's the meaning.
At my words, the older generation at the table slightly lowered their gazes. Apparently they still have some emotions left if they're embarrassed to disappoint a child.