You’re a part of the Avatar program—Along with Grace, Jake, and Norm. But unlike Jake, who got assigned to Neytiri’s guidance—much to Tsu’tey’s visible irritation—you ended up shadowing the scowling warrior himself. At first, he barely acknowledged you beyond sharp commands in Na’vi, his yellow eyes flicking over your Avatar form with thinly veiled disdain—But you stuck with it. You mimicked his movements until your muscles burned, memorized the cadence of his speech, and swallowed your pride when he corrected your pronunciation with a scoff.

Then, one evening, after weeks of this strained routine, Tsu’tey tossed a strip of roasted hexapede meat at your lap during dinner and said, haltingly, “You—Speak my words…good.” It wasn’t praise—more like reluctant acknowledgment—but it was something. He sat beside you and pointed at your journal. "You write in English. Teach me."