AN: Welcome to The Last Jinchuriki! ... I'm pretty sure that title's cliche as they come, but I couldn't think of anything better XD I suck at coming up with creative titles.

DISCLAIMER: I will only put this here once: I don't own any of the characters, themes, plots, etc., etc., or anything. ... Why do we even have to put this here? It's FANfiction. Whatever. DO NOT OWN. And stuff. XDD

Chapter One

Monsters that Lurk

Katara had heard the stories.

Demons who haunted the night, preying on small children as they rushed home after being out longer than their parents would have liked. She thought that they were simply just that – stories to ensure the safety of children. She herself had once been afraid of the dark when she was very small, however she had quickly overcome that fear. In the face of sadness, fear was nothing.

When she was merely five, she lost her mother to a Fire Nation raid. A few years after that, her father and all of the able-bodied men left to combat the rapidly spreading forces of the Fire Nation. They were aided by very little people, but the courage in their hearts was what kept them alive. Katara was sure of it. Even after the long years they had been gone, she held unwavering faith in her father and his troops.

Even so, the stories that circulated their small tribe, told by the old women under the dark of night, seemed to ricochet in her mind. They didn't fear her in the least, but something about them, on that particular day, left an unsettled feeling in her stomach. It didn't help that one of the women who told the stories was her Gran, and she wasn't one to exaggerate things or even weave false tales. She did have her fair share of ghost stories that would have people jumping at every drop of a pin, but they were mostly based off true stories and mysteries of the tribe.

That was probably what had her so worried. Her Gran was always telling those stories and they had no root tale, no moral or reason for her to speak them. She didn't know where the stories came from. She wasn't sure if Gran hadn't just made them up for the fun of seeing their terrified faces. Being unable to figure the stories out were messing with her head.

"All right! Fishing trip, here we come!" Sokka twirled his spear, a goofy grin spread across his face. His eyes were clear and showed no fear of the story Gran just told them mere seconds ago.

Then again, her brother had never been the sharpest tool in the shed.

"Just what and learn, Katara," said Sokka. "You'll see how real men catch fish."

She rolled her eyes at her brother's sexist habits. "Sure. And I'll laugh when you fall in the water face-first."

They loaded up into the canoe and took off down river, searching for fish to catch for dinner. Since the rest of the tribe left behind consisted of young children and elderly, they had to do most of the hunting and trapping. Their Gran was still surprisingly proficient at survival for an old timer, but they couldn't let her do too much work in good conscience.

So far, so good. The river was lazy enough, and the ice was broken up enough for them to have a straight view down into the water. She could see several fish swimming around lazily under the surface, slow and sluggish from the low temperatures. It was usually easier to catch fish in the winter, because they were ravenous and moved slower than they did in the heat of summer. Sokka had his spear ready, his grin not wavering a second.

Glaciers rose up on either side of them, white and shadowed blue nearly blinding, yet their eyes were acclimated to the sun-reflective ice. It was quite beautiful, and even in the summer the river was laden with chunk of ice and the water was freezing cold. During the winter the river froze over and they had to drill through the ice to reach the fish below.

Katara looked down into the water, pursing her lips. It was possible – they were moving slow enough, so she could most likely pull it off . . .

She tugged off her gloves and waved her hands over the water, forming slow and graceful movements. To her delight, the water responded – floated up above her head. Trapped inside was a fish, swimming in circles as if wondering where the ocean had gone.

"Sokka, look!" she said gleefully.

"Shh, Katara, you're going to scare it away!" hissed Sokka, raising his spear. His grin widened as he hummed in anticipation of dinner. "I can already smell it cooking."

"But Sokka, I caught one!" Katara gasped, directing her arm movements so the water shifted and moved through the air around the canoe.

The globe of water floated higher and higher above the canoe, following Katara's movements, before it was directly over Sokka. The clueless boy, who apparently hadn't taken his own lessons and wasn't paying attention to his surroundings, chose that moment to raise his spear. The butt of the weapon pierced the sphere and a shower of water slashed down on him – and the fish escaped back into the ocean.

"Hey!" Katara protested indignantly.

Sokka spun around, resting his spear on the canoe. "Why is it, that every time you play with magic water, I get soaked?"

"It's not magic, it's waterbending, and it's –"

"Yeah, yeah, an ancient art unique to our culture, blah blah blah," said Sokka in his blasé way of respecting the Water Tribe's prided art. "Look, I'm just saying that if I had your powers, I'd keep my weirdness to myself."

"You're calling me weird?" Katara scoffed. She smirked at her older brother. "I'm not the one who makes muscled at myself every time I see my reflection in the water."

Sokka turned around, probably to deliver and quick and witty one-liner (which Katara would swiftly and mercilessly counter), but was interrupted as their canoe slammed into a chunk of ice. They let out started shouts, Sokka lunging for the paddle as the current suddenly sped up. He momentarily fought the rapids, before Katara saw a particularly large chunk of ice right before them.

"Watch out!"

Sokka failed to "watch out" and slammed into the ice, sending them careening down the current.

"Go left! Go left!" Katara yelled.

They were swept down the river even farther, before the canoe was crushed between the ice and they were sent flying onto small, flat glacier top. They slid across the ice and just stopped themselves in time from rolling into the water. Katara scrambled away from the edge, while Sokka sat back, looking impressively bored, considering they just crashed two seconds ago.

Once Katara had settled down, she threw a side-ways glare at him.

"You call that left?"

"You don't like my steering – well, maybe you should have "waterbended" us out of the ice," said Sokka, mockingly waving his arms in the air.

"So it's my fault?" snapped Katara.

"I knew I should have left you home!" Sokka grumbled. "Leave it to a girl to screw things up!"

And just like that – Katara's patience, already at its limit, failed.

Her face twisted in a furious scowl, and she shoved her finger at him. "You are the most sexist, immature, nut brained –" she spluttered, running out of insults, "I'm embarrassed to be related to you!"

Meanwhile, completely going completely unnoticed by Katara, the river was reacting to her anger. The river sloshed back and forth, and Sokka started to feel a twinge of worry as the glacier wall behind her cracked, sending snow sloshing into the water.

"Ever since Mom died, I've been doing all the work around camp while you've been off playing soldier!"

As she gestured, more boulders of ice fell into the river, sending water spraying high, and even more cracks started forming in the glacier. Sokka drew back slightly, raising his hands.

"Uh, Katara –"

"I even wash all the clothes!" she continued, her fury rising with the strength of the river – or perhaps it was the other way around. The element was reacting to her anger. "Have you ever smelled your dirty socks?" she asked. "Let me tell you: not – pleasant!"

The glacier gave a great splintering sound – the water crashed around her.

"Katara – settle down!"

"No!" she yelled. "That's it – I'm done helping you! From now on, you're on your own!"

With one furious swing of her arms, the glacier behind her severed into two, crashing into the ocean and sending up huge waves. Surprise flashed over Katara's face as she propelled forward from the force of the waves, stumbling over and falling to her side. They barely had time to grab the sides of the sheet of ice before they were tumbling over the rough waters.

Once again, the water calmed, and this time it was Sokka who aimed a glare at Katara.

"Okay, you've gone from weird, to freakish, Katara." He gave her a light shove.

She looked at the wreckage in awe. "You mean I did that?"

"Yep," said Sokka sarcastically. "Congratulations."

It was as if the world didn't want them to have a quiet moment that day, because a second later the water began to glow blue, washing their faces with the cool color. A ring of light appeared in the water, before the river started frothing. Right before their eyes, a giant glacier rose from the depths, floating on the surface. The other-worldly light emanated from the glacier, and Katara was suddenly reminded of the stories her Gran told her of demons –

Of tailed beasts and monstrous warriors.

She squinted, and could see the vague outline of what looked like a boy in the ice. When she leaned forward to get a better look, glowing eyes flashed open – an arrow gleamed to life on the head (which she was sure was bald).

Katara and Sokka drew back with startled yells from the sudden movement inside the ice. Whoever was in the glacier was still alive. Katara lunged forward with a large stick, set on chipping away the ice, which she was certain trapped the boy inside.

"Katara, what are you doing?" yelped Sokka.

"There's a person in there!" she replied impatiently.

"Wait!" he called after her as she ran for the ice berg. "It could be dangerous!"

And just like that – everything changed.

The day seemed to blur in Katara's memory, the boy escaping from the ice, sneezing and flying several feet into the air, discovering that he was the Avatar. The strange boy with a ponytail (who looked their own age and made her wonder what on earth was wrong with the world) had come looking for Aang and said boy revealed himself as the Avatar right then and there to save the small tribe.

The firebending boy had slipped by Sokka with ease and part of Katara was forced to be grateful that he didn't injure her brother any more then he did. She knew for a fact that the boy could have severely hurt Sokka, but he didn't. However, that didn't make her hate him any less. He was Fire Nation, and apparently the Crown Prince at that, so that was enough to make her despise him with a passion.

And now Aang was gone, captured by the Fire Nation. The Avatar, the world's last hope, was prisoner to firebenders. Not matter what kinder, logical thoughts she tried to sooth her guilty conscience with, she couldn't entirely wipe away her shame. What kind of friend was she, letting him be taken like that?

"I'm going, Sokka," she said determinedly, ignoring any protests.

"Katara," Sokka started, his voice gentler then usual, but she interrupted him.

"No! Aang is our friend, and he's the Avatar!" She gave a great motion of her arms to emphasize her point. "He's the world's only hope, so I have to save him! You stay here if you want, but you can't stop me –"

"I know," Sokka stated simply. He nodded at a large pack he had already prepared for their journey. "Are you ready or what?"

Katara's train of thought came to a stuttering halt, and then a grin broke across her features. She flung herself at her bother, laughing happily. "Thanks, Sokka."

"Are you planning on heading somewhere?" came a firm, elderly voice.

The siblings turned to see their Gran standing there, holding a bundle in her arms. Her face was set and stubborn, but a second later her frown softened into a small smile.

"You're going to need these," she said, holding the bundle out to them. "It has all the provisions you'll need for a while."

"Gran?" Katara said quietly, awed. "Are you going to be okay?"

The old woman looked over the ocean, as if her eyes were seeing something they couldn't. "That boy . . . the Avatar . . . he's brought something to this world that I haven't felt or seen in many, many years: hope."

Katara smiled, looking out at the ocean with her. She wondered if the image of a happier future she was seeing in her mind's eye was what her Gran saw at that moment. She was right; Aang was a beacon of hope in a war torn world that had been lost to chaos for one hundred years too long. She had always believed in the existence of the Avatar, but now that he was actually here she was filled with a new kind of joy.

"Just promise me one thing," Gran said, looking away from the ocean at them. "Be safe."

Katara had nodded with a smile, swallowing the lump in her throat, and followed Sokka to where Appa, Aang's supposedly flight-capable Sky Bison, was sleeping. A snot bubble floated from the creature's nose, and she could practically see dreams of little mini Sky Bisons flying around in circles. Actually, she suddenly wondered, what did Sky bisons dream about?

They clambered on board Appa. Sokka immediately took the back seat, while Katara settled where she knew Aang steered. She patted Appa's head gently.

"Okay, let's go!"

Nothing happened.

"We need to save Aang," she said, hoping to coerce the animal into moving. "Don't you want to save him?"

"Fly!" Sokka ordered in a bored drawl. "Up! Ascend! . . . What did Aang say? Yup-yup? Yet-yet? . . . Yip-yip?"

With a great groan, Appa opened his eyes, rising to his eight legs. He let out a yawn, and Katara cheered. He rose his tail up, and with a woosh – they were rocketing into the air, sending the ocean splashing around under them from the force of their ascent.

"We're flying! We're flying!" Sokka cheered, grinning hugely. When he noticed Katara's amused look, he immediately clammed up, adding, "I mean, so what? We're flying."

Katara chuckled, shaking her head. She faced the horizon, determination rising within her. They would save Aang and afterward, the Avatar would take her to the North Pole, where she could get a waterbending master.

"Let's go rescue Aang!"

Zuko was having a bad day.

That wasn't necessarily unusual, as he was rather famous for his bad days. However, in his infamous Book of Bad Days, this one really took the gold medal. At the age of thirteen years old, one might not expect him to be too dangerous. Two seconds and one glare later, they would have quickly amended that previous assessment and made it their life goal to stay as far away from Prince Zuko as possible. Even so, he would say that this day was going spectacularly wrong.

There was an old saying that went along the lines of, "Don't listen to the voices in your head." Well, Zuko being the gullible idiot he was, had endured a particularly long speech from his Uncle Iroh that night about the spirits and how they would sometimes grant wisdom to those who were open minded. The old timer had seemed serious enough, with that look in his eyes like he knew something that Zuko didn't – almost like pity.

He had decided to take his Uncle's advice and meditated deeply that night.

During that time, he had received absolutely zero other-worldly advice and had gone to bed thoroughly annoyed. Something about the way he stomped down the corridors of the ship, huffing smoke and fire all over the place, must have tipped Iroh off to his nephew's rotten mood, because the old mad hadn't bothered him with tea at all that night. He wasn't sure if that pleased him or annoyed him even more.

Then he fell asleep. Why was that profound? The answer was dreams. When normal people went to sleep, they would have dreams, usually oddball flashes and scenes that made next to no sense. The occasional nightmare wasn't uncommon, just to mix things up a bit. However, when Zuko went to sleep, it was if his mind turned against him, forcing him to relive every single terrible memory he had of his time in the Fire Nation.

How rough could the life of a Crown Prince be? one might ask.

Pretty damn rough, is the answer. That is because Zuko wasn't a prince who was loved. His mother had disappeared when he was very young and since then, not a single person (with the exception of Uncle Iroh) had shown him a shred of kindness. And the reason for this treatment wasn't even a complicated one: he was simply too weak in the eyes of his father, the Fire Lord.

Zuko, the wimp. Zuko, the troublemaker. Zuko, the failure. He had a million names and none of them were good. His firebending was atrocious, his hand-to-hand was barely passing. The only thing he excelled in was dual-blade fighting, the art of using two blades as one. The only problem about that was the fact that sword fighting was almost always used by non-benders. It was shameful that the only good thing the Crown Prince, son of the Fire Lord, could do was swing a sword.

He was a disgrace. He couldn't even begin to count all of the times he had messed up in the presence of his father and sister. And that moment when his father brought down judgment upon him . . . the world had gone red and black and gray – he had lost all track of time as his mind seemed to see every second of the fiery fist coming toward his face, memorizing every detail of his torment.

And his crew wondered why he had nightmares. When he closed his eyes, he saw the memory of his father towering above him, the traditional Fire Nation golden eyes seeming blacker then the darkest night. His own father had always scared him a bit, yet he had never believed, before that day, that his father could truly hate him.

These memories would flash in his mind, as they did that night – except it was different that time. He heard a voice in the background. It was only a voice, nothing else dramatic or new, and it had told him to go south – to go so far south that his breath froze and the water would seize his inner fire. For a firebender, going to place where his inner fire would be smothered out seemed like a Very Bad Idea. No firebender in their right mind would willing (key word here) go either of the poles of the world, giving how cold it was year-round.

Zuko had never figured he was in his right mind.

As it turned out, he had profited from his gamble. The Avatar, his ticket home, was currently trussed up in the dungeon of his ship and the men were already preparing the celebrations for the voyage home. After two long years at sea, exiled from his own home after refusing to dishonor his father in battle, he was finally going to return. He could already envision the moment when his honor as a firebender and the Crown Prince was restored.

His dishonor had tortured him all these years. Despite this, his Uncle Iroh had gone out of his way to attempt to make Zuko feel as though he wasn't lowly scum. It confused him, angered him even, and at the same time it made him happy. The long days on the sea had been nearly unbearable, but if there was one good thing that came from it - it was having Iroh by his side the entire time.

Honestly, the man was more of a father figure than his own . . .

Zuko gripped his forehead as sharp pain stabbed through his skull. His stomach churned as he felt disgusted with himself enough to physically react. Just as he had captured the Avatar, proved his honor to the Fire Nation, he was already disrespecting his own father with thoughts like that. It was painful and left him more confused and upset than ever.

I should be overjoyed.

He stared out at the gray sea, gripping the rails tighter than necessary. The wind buffeted his face, light pattering of sea spray stinging his burn scar.

I'm heading home.

His head pounded again. He dug his finger nails into his scalp.

What is this feeling?

He doubled over the railing, a nearly inaudible groan escaping his throat as the pain his head spread though his entire body.

Like there's something inside me . . .

The air around him felt uncomfortably cold all of a sudden. Or perhaps his body had become incredibly warm.

Burning like acid . . . what is the feeling?

"Prince Zuko?"

He snapped out of his stupor, eyes widened in surprise. He turned stiffly, joints aching and sore, as if he had just gone though a particularly difficult kata.

"What?" he asked, uncharacteristically calmly.

The man who called him looked very afraid. He shifted, as if hesitant to say what needed to be said. Then he screwed his eyes shut and yelped with the determination of man going to his death:

"The Avatar has escaped, sir!"

Zuko stared blankly. It took several seconds for the sentence to click in his mind. The words chased each other around in his head, echoing teasingly. It was as if the universe was spitting down on all of his hard work.

" . . . Uh, sir?"

He slammed his fist down on the railing hard enough to dent it. His eyes narrowed to slits.

This really is turning into a bad day.

AN: Well... first chappie! I hope it was semi-decent.

Updates will probably be sporadic, but I'll try to post a new chapter one every week or two.

Ja ne~