A/N: Yay! Another random oneshot!
It is raining, and he is dying.
All he can think of is how ironic the world can be, how twisted its sense of humor is.
It was raining when they fell in love, raining when they married, raining when she died. Now, it is his turn. And it is raining.
When they fell in love, he did not think of the rain. He only thought of her, how happy she looked in her element, how beautiful and wonderful she was, and how grateful he was to the Spirits that she had chose him too.
When they married, he thought of the rain as a blessing, as it cools down the warm climate and once again made them happier.
After she died, he saw the rain as a mockery. It mocked him every time it hit the ground, hissing during the summer, it mocked him as it temporarily stole his vision, and it mocked him when it put out fires. Fires of hope and pain and love.
And now he is dying and the rain is a friend. It reassures him with water falling down onto his face that they will see each other once more, will fall into each other's embrace once more, will hear each other's voices once more.
His country thinks him crazy, to die in the rain. Rain in the Fire Nation is seen as only good for crops and nothing more. It is annoying and cannot be burnt away.
But to him, the rain is a blessing. He does not care that it is falling into his eyes and making irritable tickling sensations because he is dying and the rain is a friend.