Pre A/N: This is for a writing duel with SeeMeInTheShadows. The story should theoretically include Zuko, running in the rain, a bit of romance, and ostriches. Be warned, this covers a lot of time — I'm estimating around six months. I also went kind of (coughcough) description-heavy on this. I've been really trying to write description better lately, meaning I've tried to read books, websites, articles, what have you to gain tips...of course this means that this story just had to be my guinea pig.

The first time he sees her, he sees a street urchin no more worthy of his attention than one of the haggard escorts off the north end. Slim hands are deftly braiding a child's hair while another child taps and pecks at her shoulder impatiently. In this section of the city, this isn't an uncommon sight, so he sighs. He's about to move on when a broad-shouldered man with a boy in tow steps in front of her. She gives him a tired smile, her eyes gaunt and hair messily tied back, and motions for the two children with her to step away.

It's what he witnesses here that will change him forever.

In smooth liquid motions, she begins to flip her hands this way and that. Water rises and coils around her and like a snake curled around its owner, it wraps around her silkily. There's a snap! as it separates into sparkling drops reminiscent of dew, changing to ice then water then steam then ice in a whirl. It makes him dizzy and that lightheadedness only ends when she condenses the water and whips it sharply into a dragon. In a dazzling display of her obvious skill, the dragon spins itself into a whirlpool and churns steadily back into an urn he hadn't even noticed was there.

"Again, again." The boy claps. "Dad, can we watch it again?"

The man chuckles as he drops a few coins into the waterbender's hand, "Perhaps tomorrow."

"Later?"

"Perhaps later."

The girl's well-practiced grin and the grooves the two paying spectators' dialogue follow make him suspect that this scene of giving and taking is all too familiar to the three of them.

The man and his son leave after a few more minutes of cosy banter. Much to his disdain, the boy has begged and begged and has gotten an agreement to return to the girl later. Weak children are made of weak-willed parents, and his father has always followed this model to the dot. He's an accomplished firebender with an abundance of girls and money, so obviously the reigning fire lord is doing it right.

The waterbender raises her eyes and this causes him to forget all thoughts of the right and wrong ways to parent. He crosses the cobblestone without hesitance, because he's the crown prince and he has the luxury of following his whims.

The conversation is more awkward than he'd envisioned though.

"Hey," He says.

Much to his shock, her bleary eyes don't even register recognition. "Hello. Are you here for a show?"

"A show?"

"Yes. A show." She clarifies, dragging out the syllables and tumbling them in her lilting accent, "A waterbending show, because I waterbend."

"No."

"What are you here for then?" She demands, and then, there, that's it. Her previously tranquil face is replaced by recognition, fear, and — is that anger? With amusement, he realises that she's angry.

He admits, "No particular reason."

"What? So is waterbending now illegal? Are you here to put me in jail? Even though I haven't done anything wrong?" Words spill out of her mouth in little spouts of fire. "What is wrong with you guys? I'm just trying to earn money to support them." She jerks a finger to the two girls with her.

"Umm...Katara," The younger one prods her with large china blue eyes. "You're being kind of mean."

"Why don't you go play with your doll, Fen?"

Fen looks down, tucking wheat hair behind her ear. "But, you said I shouldn't go very far. I don't want to leave, Katara."

"Take Toph with you, and don't go too far."

The older one, sea green eyes narrowed, takes Fen by the hand and leads her away.

Toph only looks to be about nine but she marches away with startling maturity.

He, on the other hand, is less adept with dealing with strange situations than he'd like to admit. "You sent them away?"

The waterbender, or rather — Katara — hasn't missed the mirth in his tone. "Yes, because they're children and they don't need to pretend to be adults yet. What do you want?"

"I told you." The corners of his mouth quirk up. "Nothing in particular."

She looks like she believes him this time and is more than a little enraged. "So...waterbending isn't illegal?" And there's the unsaid: I sent them away for nothing? The look in her eyes is nothing short of protective.

"No."

"Oh. Then sorry about that. I didn't mean to, uh, accuse you."

At this point, he knows he could have her beheaded for her impudence, for the way she doesn't bow her head and cower trembling, but he's never been a fan of the whole farce that is the Royal Court. Besides, he doesn't need his father thinking he's taken special interest in anything.

"I'll be going now."

Immediately, the defiance and fury return with full force. "You can just go!" She spits. "You don't have to announce it."

He just smiles in what he hopes looks cryptic and warning at the same time and returns to the palace in a good mood. Even Azula's numerous barbs in the opulent dining hall don't get to him and he reports back to his beady-eyed, ever-judging father with ease. Yes, the tour of the city went well and the subjects appear to be wide-eyed with reverence and blinking back crystalline tears of fear. He also wants to tour the city again, because after all, he's the crown prince. But because he wants that waterbender to squirm, he'll wait until next Sunday to explore the dirty, floury-aired part of the capital city that is Fourth Avenue.

Next Sunday, he finds her weaving a water dance for what looks to him a decent-sized audience. Her movements are refined and liquid, and if he squints hard enough, he can see the blurred outline of a court lady. Of course, unlike all the simpering court women, she's without floriated ornaments and filigreed pins.

He waits until the crowd has had its fill of waterbending for the day, and when they disperse, he makes sure to saunter through the center of the chattering bunches.

"Quite a show you had there."

She's so immersed in her crafting that she doesn't notice him until Fen pokes her. "Katara, the man's back again."

"Yeah." Toph adds loudly. "He's back."

"What?" She near topples over before an angry shield crosses over her face. "Why are you here?"

"Passing interests?" Like he even needs a reason?

"Interesting. Hmph." A little flick of her fingers and a serrated edge is sliced off. "Here, Fen. This should do."

Fen's eyes glimmer and her joy is unmistakable. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, Katara. I love it. It's so pretty." She turns towards him, "Look. Katara made me a pin. It's a rose. Because I like roses,"

"Nice." He nods hesitatingly.

"Here, touch it."

Katara shoots up and with wobbly motions, steadies herself. She lays tapered fingers on Fen's shoulder. "I don't think that's a very good idea. Why don't you just pin it on?"

"Okay. Wait, um...but can he pin it on for me?"

It's probably because she's too innocent to know who he is and what he is, but he appreciates it anyway. It's nice, for once, to have someone talk to him like he's capable of friendship. In the royal world, there's no such thing as platonic relationships unless they're his family. "Sure." He also relishes the unadulterated shock in the waterbender's normally mulish eyes.

"Thank you." She beams. She's the fluttery sort, he decides, and she takes Toph by the hand and starts twirling around.

While they're distracted, the waterbender goes in for the kill. She's glowering, and anger darkens the velvet lines of her brow and eyes. "I'd like you to stay away from them."

"I've only come here twice." He says, amused.

"And make sure you keep it twice."

"Why? Avenue Four is actually pretty...nice."

They both know it's not true and the ferocity in her voice at this comment surprises him. This is only their second meeting and she's already changed his world in more ways than he knows. "Oh, shut up. You and I know that's not true. There's a reason why this dump is named what it is. Four means death in the ancient language, remember? That's what the stupid state-controlled media first dubbed it as; I'm sure you remember."

Actually he does remember, but her flinty stare does nothing to imbibe guilt in him. If anything, he's resentful that he's the crown prince living in a meticulously-decorated palace, and that this means he has to pretend to give a damn about commoners like her.

"What, you don't have anything to say?" She spits.

"I could have them taken away, you know."

The gasp he elicits from her is priceless and dark fringed lashes cover her eyes quickly. It seems that she has nothing to say. He thinks that his father would be proud. The closer he is to his father, the closer his footsteps sink in the same pattern and future step by step, the more praise he earns. And so this encourages him to go even further. "You'd never see them again."

"Shut up! Go away."

From about five yards away, Toph and Fen look up. Toph's fingering jagged dagger and a worried look has crossed Fen's feathered eyebrows.

"Don't worry." She calls to them. "Keep on playing."

"Remember, I'm the crown prince of the Fire Nation." He says. He's done antagonising her for the day though and he's left in a significantly worse mood than before. He snaps his finger for the golden litter and leaves her gaping.

Against his better judgement, he shows up at the dying hellhole that is Avenue Four again. It's not actually an avenue, but that's the colloquial term for it, anyway. The buildings lean awkwardly, groaning as if they can't support their weight, and the mailboxes are bent awkwardly with a crinkle here and there. The soot sky arches over them, and he has to tug at his wrappings again to for protection against the nip of the wind.

This Sunday, he finds her methodically numbering the seven steps of shaping a fire whip. Except there are only four steps, and she's dissecting the movements horribly. He knows this because his father had it whipped into him, literally, and unpleasant memories always loom over his shoulder.

He is about to mention it before he is nearly hit by an earthen whip. Toph's eyes are liquid poison and she has a saturnine face to match. "Like this! Not. Like. That."

Fen hugs herself tightly and whimpers. "Stop yelling."

"I would if you'd just make the freakin' whip!"

"It's hard though." She wails.

He finds himself volunteering. "Can I help?"

Katara shoots him a glare, but the look on her hardened face says yes. All she says is, "Fine," and plops down on the ground. "Don't kill them." She shoots up a spout of water with lithe grace and little bits of ice are shaved off until it's a life-sized hummingbird. It's set beside the dragon and a twisted latticed sculpture.

"Not planning on it," He snarls.

"Well, are you going to help or not?" Toph says.

He ignores her and focuses on Fen. "Focus on your inner fire and feel it burning through you." He sounds like Iroh now, and the last thing he wants to do is sound like that plump, tea-crazy old man.

"Okay. I'm foke...ussing."

"Straighten out your arm and imagine the fire flowing through it."

"Um, I think the fire's going through. It won't burn me, will it?"

"No, stupid." Toph rolls her eyes.

Fen's lips quiver, "Stop being mean. You're just jealous you're not a firebender."

"As if!"

Katara calls calmly from her perch on the curb, where water swirls coolly in front of her, "Why don't you help me sculpt, Toph? You know we need the money."

And that's that. This new purpose gives Toph a certain straightening of her back and walks over to Katara airily.

"Can we go now?" Fen says.

"Yeah. Where were we? Yeah, hold out your arm. Now, the next two steps can be combined into a single step, but for learning practices, you should learn them separately."

"Okay."

"Snap your arm back."

"Like this?" She shoves her arm back violently and it looks like she's had practice in elbowing someone, namely Toph.

"Softer." If there's one lesson he's learnt from Iroh, it's that firebending isn't always about the crackle and the explosions. Like all the other bending arts, there's a tradition to follow, a quieter path.

"Now am I doing it right?"

"Watch me, okay?" He glides his arm, positioning his elbow to the side.

"Now?"

"Good enough."

"What next?"

"Last step, ready? Imagine the fire pouring out of your arms, coiling into a whip."

She squeezes her eyes, her light lashes creeping out like spider legs beneath her eyes. "I'm imagining it."

"Put it all together then."

It takes her a few tries, and her third attempt is so reminiscent of the northern waterbending style that he has to choke back a spurt of laughter. The waterbender may have given it her all, but it's no use if Fen can only move like a waterbender. She has to learn to move with fury, with a deep furrowing energy, not like she's bending soft inky emotions.

"Sharper, but stay smooth."

"I can't," Fen says, throwing her arms up. "I am being sharp."

"There's a difference between sharp and brutal." Katara comes over and strokes the silken fine mess that is Fen's hair. "You need quick movements, got that?"

"But I am being quick! Look, Katara, I am."

Katara lays an arm adjacent to Fen's and guides her. "Like this. Do you think you've got that? Like this. Try it on your own now."

"Better," He's reluctant to admit it, but Fen's movements are much smoother now. "Now feel the fire moving through your arm and go through the motions again."

Fen slides her elbow out once again and a thread of fire spools from her finger. It's barely there, waving in the air ever so slightly, but still, it's there. Fen barrels into the waterbender's arms. "I did it," she says, "I did it!"

"Say thank you to the fire prince,"

He can't help but think that title is a jab to who he is. But before he can comment, Fen spins from Katara and latches onto his leg. "Thank you, fire prince."

The words spill out in a jumble before he's even aware of them, "Call me Zuko."

"Thank you, Zooo-koh."

He doesn't miss the asteriated smile from Katara that's somehow infused with a dash of smugness of and all-knowingness, but he'll let it go for now.

Somehow, things have changed between them.

Their hesitant friendship goes on like this for a while. Katara slim fingers will tug at a scalloped ice sculpture with delicate details edged here and there, and he'll use up his patience teaching Fen how to firebend. Toph will watch, with a curious look upon her face, rounded nose wrinkling up. One day, she takes matters into her own hands though, and again, he feels the tentative relationships they've built together shifting and moulding into something else.

"Teach me." Toph declares.

Fen says, "Yeah, you should teach her. She's not very good at bending."

He knows that Fen means no harm by this comment, but Toph erupts anyway. "Don't you dare say that. I'm very good at bending, I'll have you know." The crumbles of the sidewalk she sends whooshing over cause Fen to giggle. "Stop laughing!"

"Enough. I'll teach you."

The relief on her guarded features is thanks enough. "What can you do?"

"Well, not many things." She shoots Fen a dirty look. "I can raise small rocks, and I can sort of whip rocks around."

"Yeah. I know about that last one."

"It would've hurt if it hit you, you know. I've really been improving. But, I need a teacher, I know I do."

"Well, I should tell you this now. I don't know how much I can help you; firebending is different than earthbending. I can try, though."

This earns her approval and a solemn nod for him. "That's fine. Now, where do we start?"

"Most earthbenders I've seen can consolidate small rocks into a larger mass. Not exactly a whole mass, but they can hold the rocks together. It seems easy enough, so we can start with that."

"How do I do that?" Toph asks.

"Uhh, you know..."

"Try imagining that you control the rocks, that they're a part of you." Katara says. She's furiously chiselling away at an ice block, but he can't help but think that it's unfair how he has to be the one to teach Toph. After all, he's visited nine or ten times by now and he's learnt exactly how violent she can be.

Toph jerks around and flails her arms. "Ugh! It's not working." The rocks tilt slightly, but nothing else comes. "This is stupid."

"Close your eyes." He says.

"Okay, I'm closing my eyes."

She looks at peace at last. Her misty eyes are usually furious or stoic, but without them, there's only her creamy pale skin, that snub nose, and the tilt of her lips. Dark hair grasps at her face, and it's with amusement that he watches her push it away in an attempt to gain concentration. "It's not working! I can feel it not working. It's just not."

"How about something smaller?" Fen, the littlest of them all, also is the smartest. Pale eyes rake over Toph's expressive face. "You could try sculpting rocks to get to know them better."

"That's stupid."

"No. That's a pretty good idea, Fen." Katara says.

"It is?"

He says, "Yeah. Start small and you can work your way up."

"I can't believe it." Toph grumbles. "I can make bend rocks at people and make rock whips, yet I can't even bring rocks together."

"Everyone learns differently." Fen chirps.

By the end of their session, Toph has managed to carve a rudimentary lotus out of a rock. It actually looks more like a charcoal blob, but he's not about to say that. It's surprising that she knows how to make a rock whip but not a conglomeration of rocks, but as Fen said, everyone learns differently. "We'll try again next Sunday?"

"Yeah. Maybe."

"Don't be embarrassed, Toph." Katara says.

"I'm not embarrassed!"

He has to leave now because they're having an official dinner at the palace tonight. He's going to meet a horde of exquisitely-dressed women in damask and silk robes, with diamonds and rubies sparkling from everywhere upon them. He can't help but want to stay here though.

"Going yet?" Katara smirks.

"I get the message. I'm gone." He jabs back.

It's another Sunday, a few months later, and it's also Katara's birthday. He took an ingot from the vault yesterday, which was a pretty risky thing in itself, and burned and melted the gold away until only a lotus was left. He's not sure if she'll like it, but he feels like he has to do something.

He's about to call for the litter before a trembling servant steps in front of him. "Prince Zuko, y-your father requests your presence."

"What?"

"Come this way, please sir. Your father wants to see you."

He obediently follows the servant decked out in crimson-maroon robes. His father's throne room never fails to enthrall him each time he steps in it. Fire blazes and roars mightily behind his father, an orchestra of flaring suns.

"Father?"

"Zuko." He booms. "I've noticed that you've been spending an unusual amount of time out of the palace."

"Since I am the crown prince, I thought it fit to see more of the subjects."

"The servants tell me you have been visiting the Fourth Avenue a lot. In particular, there's a woman there, they say."

"It's —" What can he say here? "It's entertaining playing with the subjects. Giving them hope and snatching it away from them. A game, if you like."

"I see. I'm proud of you, my son." There's a warm feeling in him when he hears the last two words. His father doesn't acknowledge their relation a lot, but at the same time, he feels like he's betrayed Katara, Fen, and Toph. What can he do though? It's a tough life.

"Thank you, father. I only wish to make you proud."

"You may go now."

He has to make up for the time lost, so he orders the litter to go as quickly as they can. He calls out the orders merrily, his father having put him in a good mood. "Go faster. If you go faster, I'll order the cook to give you a feast tonight. Duck wings, thousand year eggs, roast chickens, pickled daikon, ginger sauce, pork buns. It'll be all yours." He's there in a zip.

"Um, hi." Katara looks up. "What's that?" She nods at the cotton package in his hands.

"It's her birthday, Zuko! Did you know that?" Fen exclaims, as if she hadn't hinted at him constantly last Sunday.

"We're celebrating at the apartment." Toph says.

"The apartment?" He knows they must live somewhere, but they've never talked about it before.

Katara smiles wryly. "Yeah. And we were hoping you would celebrate it with us."

Considering Katara is just that private a person, he's almost flattered that she asks. He also knows that he hasn't always been the friendliest nor most exuberant person to be around, so he accepts.

The walk to their apartment is short, and for that he's glad. Across the street from them, there is a porcelain doll of a girl huddled against her mother, bundled in ripped blue rags and chewing on a chunk of bread. There are also women calling out and hooting, and he's not sure if they actually recognise who he is or if they're that desperate.

It's in relief that he steps into a room permeated with the odor of herbs, vomit, and sweat. "Up here," Katara gestures to a rickety set of stairs.

"It's not much," Toph warns.

Their room is on the top floor, and Katara fumbles with the tarnished key for a second before it clicks in place. "The view is the nicest part."

She's right. The view is breathtaking, because from up here, the tops of the buildings are splashy frames of everyday life across the city; a woman squeezes out the last drops of moisture from the laundry, two kids bounce a ball back and forth. The sky even looks a bit more beautiful up here, smudgy clouds smeared against caerulean and azure. While he is admiring the view, he realises that the other three are bustling around.

"Let me help,"

Katara shakes her head. "No can do."

He looks around. A shocking thought hits him. They have no parlour. There is no separate dining room filled with expensive silverware and handmade china plates. They don't have mosaic designs on the tableware, and the kitchen even separated from the eating area by at least a hand painted divider. This is truly how Katara, Fen, and Toph live each and every day.

"What's wrong, Zuko?" Fen tugs at his robes.

"Nothing."

Katara shoots him a puzzled look, but says nothing more of it. "Here, why don't you sit down? It must be the air downstairs that got to you."

"We have lavender pouches though, so the air's fine up here." Toph says.

"Yeah!" Fen grins, showing gap teeth, "We picked the lavender ourselves, too."

He sits down. The chair that looked like it has been repaired at least six times doesn't give, so he sits more comfortably and adjusts his position. "It smells good."

"I helped make it." Fen says. "I mixed really good. And don't tell Katara," Her fingers curl in his shoulder as she leans up, "But I licked the spoon."

"I heard that." Katara laughs. She's carrying a small pie and Toph is behind her with some chipped plates. "You like cherry pie?"

"Yeah." In truth, he's actually never had it. In the palace, they serve elegantly iced cakes, decorated tarts and breads, and meringues that have been whipped to perfection. However, he's never had cherry pie before. This will be an interesting experience.

It turns out to be really good. Even though the palace chefs and dessert chefs work under the threat of being burnt to death or being sizzled and singed by lightning until they can no longer work — or breathe, really — this is just really damn good.

"This is good."

Fen beams. "Yeah, my mixing was great, isn't it?"

"Thanks." Katara turns towards Fen, "And Toph helped too, Fen."

"I know, I know." She sighs.

Now is as good a time as any and he interrupts. "I did remember it was your birthday today, actually."

"Oh, yeah?" Katara frowns.

"And I have a present for you."

Fen squeals. "I knew you wouldn't forget! I knew it."

"Is that what that was?" Katara asks as he hands her the cotton package.

"Yeah."

An slow silence ensues as she carefully rips away the cloth. He's suddenly unsure of himself and if he really should've got her anything. After all, they don't know each other that well, and looking at their surroundings, they barely have anything in common.

"Oh, wow." Katara breathes. He can't tell if she's pleased though, so he keeps silent. It's only when he sees a slow red suffuse through her cheeks that he speaks. Is she embarrassed?

"So, uh, do you like it?"

"She likes it." The corners of Toph's mouth tip up. "We don't do much present giving though, so, you know..."

"Oh. I hope it isn't too much then."

Katara smiles. "No, it's fine. Take another helping of the cherry pie though. It's the least we can do."

"Yeah. Take it." Toph glares.

He tries to refuse, but when Fen gives him her shiny pretty-please-with-a-cherry-on-top grin, he feels his will falter and die. Even under the dim fluorescent lights, the sun sends in enough shimmery tangerine warmth to light up two rows of Fen's pearly white teeth and bow lips.

It's hard to forget his conversation with his father though, and that darkens the happy scene a bit.

"Stop frowning," Fen says after he's gulped down the rest of the pie, "and play with me." She whips out an object he hasn't seen before from behind her back and grins happily. "This is my stuffed ostrich, Shido. I got him yesterday."

He pats her on the head.

The unpleasant memory, much to his disappointment, doesn't sink into the deep crevices of his mind even several months after. He still hears his father's questions and knows that one way or another, something will have to give. For now, his father is pretending that he doesn't suspect anything about Zuko's disappearances every Sunday.

The phrase, all good things much come to an end, comes to mind though, and one particularly dreary Wednesday, he gets a summons from his father. It's written in a scrawling blue, some smear on the margins, because really, his father waits for no one and doesn't have time for nonessential letters. Even the parchment is obviously carelessly chosen. On the back are a few addresses in inks of all hues. Different handwriting, different cares, it's obvious what his father does in the safety of the bejewelled night.

"Father?" He bows his head and speaks softly. The fire lord is more merciful to obedience.

"Zuko,"

"You summoned me here. I got it from a servant earlier."

"Yes, I did. Do you know why I asked for you?"

"No, sir, I do not." Hope flutters uneasily within him and he really hopes he doesn't.

"The girl. I've summoned you about the girl. Three months later and my servants still tell me that you go there every week. Is this not correct?"

He can scarcely breathe. "Yes,"

"Yes?"

"Yes, you are correct."

"Well, I hope you haven't gotten too attached to her. Because your sister has come up with a brilliant plan. And you know how I reward brilliance, my son."

Of course. Of course it's his damn sister whom can't let him off the hook for anything. He knows she'd hang him and bring him as a sleekly wrapped present to their father if she could. "Yes."

"Do you want to know the plan, Zuko?"

"Yes."

"As would've known if you'd been here at the palace this Sunday, the rebels are getting a bit out of hand. That's when your sister suggested we kill the rebels in the capital as a warning."

"Katara's not a rebel!" The shout tumbles out from him in an unsightly mess. He immediately takes a deep breath and braces himself, because who knows what the fire lord will do next.

"I know you'll understand. After all," The fire lord's face hardens, the fire illuminating the planes of his, and eclipsing others. "you are loyal to the Fire Nation and to the Fire Nation only."

He forces himself to say, "You're right, father. I understand."

"Good. And don't leave the palace for the rest of the week."

That's an order, and he has no choice but to obey it. He knows his father all too well to think that there's any chance of getting out of the palace. An idea strikes him though as he's slumping and walking towards his suite, and he nearly runs in desperation.

If the coins glitter beautifully enough, perhaps an errand boy can bring them a letter and keep his silence.

His semi-house arrest has ended and with no more summons from his father, he steps out into the city. The endless stretch of sky is nebulous in its entirety, giant puffy clouds everywhere. Still, blue blurs with the eggshell and dove and the result is a mixed canvas dotted with faint rays of gold and dark bird shapes.

It's an innocent enough picture as it is, but he has an uneasy feeling brewing in his gut. If all has gone well, Katara will have gotten his letter fled with Fen and Toph already.

But there are a lot of ifs involved in his imagination. If Katara escapes, she'll have to find a way to contact him. If she finds a way to contact him, he'll have to find a way to contact her. If he finds a way to write back to her, they'll have to try to meet up. That thought hits him like the ingot bar he carved the lotus out of. What will they accomplish by meeting up? His father is right in one regard, he has let this go too far. Unfortunately for him, it's far too late and he's in too deep.

He was right to be afraid of what he'd find. Ashes hastily sneak over the fallen buildings. Much of the wood has been tortured, bent into structures and shapes they shouldn't make. Destruction reigns here, and even some sparks flicker warily by dark-toned objects. Nothing is left untouched.

"Hello," he says to a man loitering around. "Do you happen to know a woman named Katara?"

"Hell I do," The man snarls. With a start, he recognises the man to be the one he originally saw Katara perform for. There is the obvious sag that applies to his whole body and paunch, and also the sable hair he vaguely remembers snakes around the man's bowl-shaped head.

"Do you know where she is?" He tries again.

"Don't know. She coulda died, maybe she didn't. I was lucky to escape with my life."

What is a man like him doing here anyway? he wonders. If the tweed and crimson outfit he wears is anything to go by, this man shouldn't even be here. He makes the mistake of asking this out loud.

"You want to know what I'm doing here?" He has a stentorian voice that makes his words even harder to take. "It's because I have compassion for them. It's because even though I run a business I still think of those other than me. Don't think I didn't recognise you, crown prince. Don't think I don't know what you guys did. Why are you here? Huh?"

"I..."

"Speechless? Yeah, me too." The man's face crumbles and he turns away.

He, himself, wanders away, peeking through the bits and pieces of rubble. It's clear he is unwanted here, and he doesn't want another scathing lecture either.

Signs of Katara, Toph, or Fen continue to elude him as he shoves his hand into the nooks and crannies of what is left of Fourth Avenue. Azula had to go through this much just to anger him, and he is angry. Fourth Avenue didn't have much of a bending presence in the city as far as sections went, yet she still chose to send this place up in blaze and flames.

Finally, he comes upon a cluster of stuffing. It's a bit coarse, but he sees it as a possible link to her and them. After clearing away some of the scarred blocks and chunks of who-knows-what, he comes upon Fen's ostrich under a plastic tarp.

By a mircle, the leather beak is still intact and the beady eyes are both there. The question is, where is Fen? Where are Katara and Toph?

The answer is right in front of him. Even before he throws aside the pitted wooden beam, he can tell that it is Katara's arched foot that lays there. It is obvious by the seashell pink shade that is on her toes, that Fen begged her to put on. Emotions fuel him to remove the debris as quickly as he can, and when he sees their faces — or rather, what remains — he breaks down.

He can taste the salt dripping down his cheeks, and he slaps himself in an attempt to stop the tears. He can't stop though, because really, it's his fault for letting it go that far. He should've known better. After all, he is the crown prince of the Fire Nation and it's his duty to marry well, not spend time with poor girls that aren't worthy of him.

That doesn't stop him from clutching the stuffed ostrich under his garments. The brilliance of the sun's rays increase tauntingly as he makes his way home.

Instead of his usual burgundy and gold, he is clothed in head to toe in bone white robes. He has also forgone his leather gloves — designed to ignite and spark his firebending to unprecedented levels — for a singular white rose. It's a bit commoner-like for him, but the meaning burns at him fiercely like a wave of Azula's electric blue.

Even the weather recognises the solemnity of this day and raindrops sprinkle lightly on the slope of her gravestone. The trees casts gnarled shadows unto the world below them and he can't help but think how fitting it is. The girl buried beneath the granite had shadows casted on her in life and she would in death, also.

The tears drip slowly and surely down the slate of his cheekbones now, because unhappy thoughts always seem to find release in salt and water. Even though he'd like it to be, today is no different.

A/N: I think I'll have to tone the description down by a lot after this. I was using adverbs and adjectives like tomorrow was the end of the world, it seems like. I'm also feeling like the ending was sloppily done and his emotions were screwed up by me. If there's anything that you want to say about what I just said and/or this story (whether it be a critque, praise, tips, all of the above, etc), I'm open to hearing it! :0 Thanks for reading.