Sokka would admit that he wasn't the most empathetic in their gang. Master planner and inventor? He'd say so. But also prone to over reacting and sarcastic comments as well as known for being unflappably gullible. His reactions to the Fire Nation were much colder and detached than his hot-headed passionate sister, direct and stubborn Toph or flighty good natured Aang. A warrior's mentality. Kill or be killed. He tried not to think of them as people, but the heartless machines of war that the Fire Nation was so proud of.
But something unexpected happened when he landed on Fire Nation soil. When he was young, he imagined deserted rocky lands of constantly erupting volcanoes and houses made of medal with smoke stacks that reached higher than Water Tribe tall ships. He pictured a land that would breed the monsters who took his mother and father away, where they took over every other land to turn it into a waste land as well.
He found it totally unfair he was wrong.
Sokka did not expect ancient overgrown volcanoes covered in grassy plains that shifted in the wind in the most inviting manner. The abundance of fruit that grew on the trees, the tropical white beaches and constant squawking of brightly coloured birds he didn't have names for. He did not image clean city streets of white stone, red marble pillars, blinding crimson slate roves or gold tips peaks.
The fresh blue water, which he was almost itching to sail on, filled with neon colour coral and fish of a thousand different colours was calling to his Water Tribe spirit and the bustling, diverse market was calling to his inner shopper.
As they walked the streets he marvelled in the hundreds of kinds of meat the venders seem to sell, ranging for Fire Nation delicacies to a man clad in blue claiming to sell Water Tribe seal jerky. The types of fruit from all over the world, the smell of fresh baked bread and sweet pastries he wanted to devour.
He did not expect to see pale faced beauties clad in pinks, sweet looking children playing games while devoted mothers chased them down, their stern faces breaking into a small grin over the childhood antics and young boys dodging imaginary villains.
Only in subtly did he see the effects of the war here. The propaganda posters on the pillars, the lack of men between his age and older and the mother who frantically wipes a homemade arrow of her son's head, who until then, had been pretending to bend all the elements with his friends.
Sokka ran a hand over his face- noting in the back of his mind the scruffy stubble on his face and how he'll have to start shaving with Aang more often- and looked up to the old volcano that the capital was situated. From here, he could barely see the tall columns of the palace. Absolute monarchy, the people had no choice in their actions, this he knew. These citizens didn't look heartless like their soldiers, power hungry like Azula, or determined- and sometimes desperate- like angst filled Zuko. Sokka would admit that he wasn't the most empathetic in their gang, but for just a second, he thought that maybe- maybe-the Fire Nation too, had to be saved from the war.