So, I was on Pinterest for a while when I stumbled upon this one tumblr post talking about Iroh's funeral and how Zuko would react to it. Naturally, I had to write a fic about it and though it isn't as impactful as my other one-shots, I can honestly say that this was heartbreaking for me write and read over because I love Iroh so much.

But what can I say? Angst is apparently my specialty now.

I absolutely love A:TLA and LOK to the point where I have even made a board on my pinterest (if you want to see my profile, the link is on my fanfic profile) and I really wish they could have another season (cough Zuko's mother cough)

Anyways, I really hope you guys like this one-shot and next week's fic will revolve around Parasyte (or Kiseijuu). It's such a good anime and I can't wait for the next episode which releases on Wednesday. If you like genres of horror and gore (mainly animes like Corpse Party and Tokyo Ghoul), then this is the anime for you. Please watch it and let us fangirl together :)

So, without further ado, on with the story!

Leaves from the vine

"He will always be in our hearts, whether we like it or not."

Falling so slow

"If it weren't for him, I don't think I would have been where I am today."

Like fragile, tiny shells

"He was more than a relative to me. He was my savior and guardian."

Drifting in the foam

"I cannot express how much he meant to me."

Little soldier boy

"Uncle, I'm so sorry."

Come marching home

"For the time when I betrayed you and stabbed you in the back every time I was lost."

Brave soldier boy

"Did I ever tell you this? If I didn't, here I go."

Comes marching home

"Uncle, I love you."

One by one, the people gathered into the sacred place started leaving, sad eyes evident on their sorrowful faces. The tree that was once full of life was now barren as the weather grew colder and the wind blew the leaves away.

In front of the tree lay a refined stone with letters carved at the bottom, candles lit on top of the stone, and the smoke surrounding the atmosphere.

Minutes, or maybe hours, passed before the crowd all dispersed; all but one man who stood in front of the tree with mournful eyes.

Behind him stood a group, looking equally as morose. A woman in blue hesitated whether she should comfort him or not, and as she started to walk towards him, a hand landed on her shoulder and she stopped in her steps.

She turned around, identifying the person who held her back, and when she saw him shake his head in disagreement, she had no choice but to drop her head and turn back to the body of people.

The smallest of the group kicked the nearest stone weakly and kept hitting her side. No one stopped her from hurting herself like that. They all knew why she was doing it.

She was trying not to cry.

Some of the pain could never be healed.

Slowly but faltering a few times, the group left the scene, leaving the place to himself. Their footsteps faded away and all that was heard afterwards was the thud of knees hitting the ground. The man, who always looked so powerful and brave, so prideful and filled with glory, seemed so weak now.

He felt lost and broken.

"Uncle. I'm so sorry." The man whispered as he caressed the stone with his trembling hand. His face, marred for life, had an even more painful expression plastered on his face as tears started to fall slowly onto the dirt.

The candles that were once lit turned off as the wind swept the lingering smoke away. Sensing this, the man reached into his robe and took out two more stick like candles. He substituted them with the new ones and lit them with his fingers, the flame only flickering slightly before settling onto the top and eating out the candle.

"I've done so many things in the past that I regret so much but I can never forgive myself for betraying you as I did once when we were in Ba-Sing Se. My past was so complicated and even then, you stood by me even when I tried desperately to leave you behind. It's amazing how you could put up with me all the time. If it were me, I would have immediately left." The man laughed emptily before stopping entirely.

The painting stared at him with kind eyes and more tears trailed down the man's cheeks.

"Uncle, I'm so sorry. For everything. For all the times I did terrible things to you. For the times when I thought you were just an old fat man with an obsession for tea. For the times when I wished that you would just leave me alone. I never actually wanted you to leave me, Uncle. I never wanted that wish to come true. Why did you have to go now?" He cried out and his hands covered his face, in hopes that the painting would not see his lowly self.

"Why did you have to go so early? We could have done so much more. We could have visited the Earth Kingdom and maybe get a massage again, but this time, without your poisoning yourself. We could have gone back to the summer house and you could have made me tea while telling me more stories of when you were the great Dragon of the West. We could have played Pai Sho and maybe, just maybe, I could have won without your having to go easy on me." His hands curled into fists as he punched the ground in anguish.

"Why didn't I figure out sooner? Why didn't I see the signs? If I had more time for you, if I wasn't so caught up with being the Fire Lord, I could have sensed it. I could have sensed your weakening heart and would have done something. I could have gotten Katara or the best doctors to help you. I could have stayed by your side the whole way. Why didn't you say anything to me? Why did you keep this a secret?" The sorrow in his voice said so much more than what was necessary.

Why could you not trust me?

But then, he stopped punched the ground and left them dangling by his side. He sighed and looked up to see the tender smile of the old man. He smiled woefully and brushed away his never ending tears.

"If only I could have helped you." He whispered as he bowed in front of the painting.

With the candles still lit and the smoke neighboring the mourning man, he began to sing. And his voice was carried away by the winds so that all could receive the news that General Iroh, the Dragon of the West, and the all-powerful Fire Lord Zuko's uncle, was with the spirits now.

"Leaves from the vine,

Falling so slow.

Like fragile, tiny shells,

Drifting in the foam.

Little soldier boy,

Come marching home.

Brave soldier boy,

Comes marching home."

And as the song came to an end, Zuko smiled affectionately at the tender pats that came from Iroh himself, who had been singing the song with him.

'My little soldier boy, go marching home.'

"I will, Uncle. I will."

What did you guys think? Good? Not good? Heartbreaking? Meh?

Review what you guys thought on this story because this was somewhat hard to write. Because, honestly, who can imagine Iroh dying? It's unheard of! The man is impractically immortal as it is!

But, the story is written and now published onto this website. Iroh dying... It really is unheard of.

Anyways, like I said in the beginning of this story, the next one will be about Parasyte (Shinichi and Migi) and like always, it will be angst. But until then, check out my other stories :)

Peace,

FlyAndDontLookBack