PTG: Alright. I didn't think I'd ever find myself writing a fanfiction ever again, but…oh well. Here it is, folks. Background: Zuko does not yet have his scar, nor is he yet banished. He's about 15. (as opposed to 17 in the series.)
Zuko knelt at one end of the bare field, knuckles and right knee on the ground. He stared at the dirt, trying not to grind his teeth and failing.
"Your basics, Zuko. Remember your basics."
Of course I'll remember. You won't let me forget. "Yes, uncle," he said aloud.
"And keep your feet on the ground. Don't let him trip you."
"No uncle."
"Zuko." Zuko looked up. Iroh was serious this time. No jokes, no laughter in his voice. He looked down his nose at his nephew. "Remember. Your opponent is skilled, Zuko. Do not forget your training. And whatever he says, do not let yourself be led by anger." Right, thought Zuko, watching as he ground dust between his fingers. Good advice, I'm sure. Now start the fight. But his uncle continued. "And do not show him your ambition."
Zuko's head went up like a shot. "What ambition? Uncle, he's the one that challenged me!"
"And more's the pity," uncle Iroh added under his breath. "You're wrong, boy. You do have ambition. Your ambition is to please him. To make him care about you. To show him he has a son he can be proud of."
Is it really that obvious? Zuko shook the thought from his head. "Of course my father cares about me."
Iroh looked away.
A gong sounded in the middle of the field. Zuko stood, letting his cape fall from his shoulders and knowing his opponent was doing the same. "Uncle." Iroh looked back at him and raised his eyebrow. "Yes?"
"I don't plan to let my father win."
Iroh nodded. "Good."