His knee is on fire.
Well, not literally, because if it was, he'd be able to do something about it. Instead, it throbs in pain with every step he takes as he stumbles on icy chunks below him, and it is all he can do to keep silent as it is strained across the ground.
He has burns running up and down his arms, and the tips of his hair are singed. That's nothing he's not use to—every firebender has had his fair share of burns—but these are particularly bad. It's not so much the pain of the wounds that truly hurts right now—it is the harsh sting of betrayal and the loss of a trusted friend that hurts the most, like a brand across his chest.
Oikawa can't remember a time when things have been worse than this.
The ice is sharp beneath him, glistening with a cold, disconnected beauty. It cuts into his soft shoes, the light material not meant for long treks on top of an iceberg. The wind bites at his battered body viciously. If he does not find some sort of shelter soon, he will die out here. His own fire can only save him for so long, and night is falling, fast. The weak sun is sinking in the sky, blazing a trail of soft red and pink hues as it drops beneath the horizon. If Oikawa had been at home, safe and warm in the palace of the fire nation, he would have stopped to enjoyed the gorgeous view.
Except he's not home, and he is struggling over sharp ice, limping every other step and biting his lip furiously to hold back tears that will freeze on his face the second they fall.
Darkness is closing, and as it does the wind picks up even more, flinging snow across the frozen desert. Oikawa's light robe (far too light for these conditions) whips around him, and he lifts his arms to cover his face in a fruitless attempt to protect his eyes.
If he stops, he knows he will die, so he rubs his fingers together and creates a tiny flame across his hands. Its heat is only barely felt in such conditions, but Oikawa nurses it from the wind, and presses onward.
His knee shakes now. It is barely holding his weight, but the rest of his body is completely numb. That's not a good sign.
In his attempt to move quicker, and due to the impending darkness, he fails to spot a jutting slab of ice near level with his calves. He stumbles over it and, without thinking, throws out his leg hard to save himself—
His scream of pain is lost in the howling wind as his knee finally gives out. The tiny, hopeless fire in his palm goes out as he tumbles into the snow.
It feels like a hot poker has been thrust into his knee. The stabbing pain refuses to subside, too, and Oikawa can do nothing but grit his teeth and curl up in a tiny ball in a futile attempt to protect himself from the elements.
He wonders if this is how he will die. Alone, betrayed, turned into a frozen relic of the North Pole.
To be fair, he doesn't think it's the worst way to go. The Fire Nation royalty of old had tended to have a history of extremely violent and bloody deaths. Oikawa counts himself lucky that he will not be among them.
He tries to start another fire, but his fingers refuse to obey him. His body shakes with effort, but he can barely move. He wants to scream in frustration. His hair and eyelashes are crusted over with ice, and there is a thin layer of snow across his body. The wind continues to howl around him, it's cold fingers clawing at him without reprieve.
It's cold.
His mind is numb, too, and with one final effort, he lifts his head to look across the icecap.
He can't see very far, but for an instant, the wind dies down, and there is a figure standing in the distance.
Someone is there.
Oikawa's eyes widen, and he redoubles his efforts to move, managing to sit up and gasping at the popping sound his knee makes when he does. He can't see the person anymore, but someone was there a moment ago.
This is Oikawa's last chance to live.
He refuses to die like this.
He can't call out—the wind is too loud, so instead he focuses on his bending. He takes a deep breath. It is hard to concentrate, to summon warmth in such a desolate, freezing place, but Oikawa is determined. His exhale through his nose is accompanied by a rush of heat and a puff of flame.
With a strangled shout, Oikawa uses up the last of his strength in a frantic slash through the air with his arms. Trails of flame follow his fingers, and for a brief instant he is lit in brilliant orange and yellow light before it is snuffed out by the wind again.
He collapses after that. His energy is completely spent, and he can only hope that his desperate beacon was seen.
He is beginning to drift off, knowing full well that once he falls asleep, he will not wake up again, when boot-clad feet fill his fading vision. Oikawa registers the sight slowly and blinks in surprise, but he can barely move, much less clear the freezing fog from his numb mind.
The person reaches out and grabs him, shaking him harshly. Oikawa feels the movement, and it kind of hurts, but his eyes are drifting closed, and he doesn't feel that cold anymore despite the snowstorm whipping around him. The stranger shouts something unintelligible, lost in the storming wind and snow. Oikawa is shaken again, and this time, it jostles his knee. He groans weakly, the world swimming in a blur of blue and white.
He's just so tired.
The stranger's face finally comes into view. His hair is spiky, partially covered by a blue parka, and his eyes are wide, expression a strange mixture of worry and anger as he says something that Oikawa still can't hear, lips moving and breath coming out as tiny clouds of vapor.
He is the last thing Oikawa sees before he succumbs to the pain and cold, and the world fades into soft darkness.
"My prince," Hanamaki says, bowing in an exaggerated, sarcastic motion. He can do that because they are alone—the rest of the crew are in the mess hall. Oikawa rolls his eyes at him and leans across the guardrail of the ship, shooting his friend a grin.
"Quit it, Makki. I told you that it's not necessary, even if you are being sarcastic about it."
Hanamaki flashes him a mischievous smile as he straightens. His Fire Nation armor clangs against metal as he positions himself next to Oikawa, his arms resting lightly on the railing. They look out across the sea at the fast approaching icebergs. All is silent save the rolling waves for a long moment, until Hanamaki shifts, looking pointedly at Oikawa's hand.
"Your father's letter arrived."
Oikawa's fist clenches around the crumpled piece of parchment.
"Yes," he confirms bitterly. "It did."
"So..." Hanamaki prompts slowly, "good news or bad news?"
Oikawa sighs. His father loves him, but he puts the priority of the Nation over his own family. He understands, but he doesn't like it.
"Neither," he says bitterly. "He doesn't have time to, you know, give his son advice on how to be diplomatic to the water tribes. Instead, it's, oh, Tooru, I'm trusting you with this menial task that I'm too busy to do, don't screw up!"
Hanamaki winces and pats Oikawa gently on the shoulder.
"Hey," he says quietly. "Don't—"
"I know, I know, Makki," Oikawa interrupts in a falsely cheery voice. "It's fine. Father is the Fire Lord, after all. I need some sort of diplomatic experience anyway, and father can't just trapeze across the ocean to visit a tiny tribe. It's—it's better if I do it."
Hanamaki makes a quick noise of acknowledgement.
"Stop thinking about it so hard," he says. "Honestly, what would you be doing if you were still at the palace? Training, strolling around the garden...doing your hair for hours at a time—"
"Hey! I do not!"
"You totally do, and that's not the point, idiot."
Oikawa pouts. "Don't speak to your prince that way."
Hanamaki snorts at him.
"Whatever you say, your majesty. But really, back to what I was saying. You'd be really bored if we didn't come on this trip." He pauses for a moment and looks out across the glistening ice. There are a million different shades of blue and purple within the frozen water, shades that are rarely seen in the warmth and humidity of the Fire Nation. "We wouldn't get to see this gorgeous view."
Oikawa grins. Makki is right, as usual—it is gorgeous here, and Oikawa loves the sense of adventure that he gets from travelling. This is why Oikawa made Makki his advisor.
A breeze flutters past them, and Oikawa shivers. He's only wearing a thin robe—long sleeved, yes, but it isn't thick enough for the North Pole.
Makki catches the movement and shakes his head. "Idiot," he says, but his tone is fond. "Go put some warmer clothes on. It's freezing out here."
Oikawa sighs and nods, turning on his heel and heading towards the door leading into the underbelly of the ship.
Oikawa reaches for the doorknob, but before he can open the door, he hears something on the other side—it's a familiar sound, since he hears it every time he bends. It's the snap hiss sound of flames, and it puzzles him, because who would be bending inside the ship at a time like th—?
He never has the chance to finish that thought, because a moment later, the entire doorway explodes, and Oikawa is engulfed in a whirlwind of light and heat. For a moment, he is airborne.
Then he crashes into the deck hard, and the breath is knocked out of his lungs.
"Oikawa!" Hanamaki yells, panic painting his tone, and Oikawa blinks the stars out of his eyes to see Makki launch himself forwards just in time to redirect a large fireball that would have hit Oikawa directly in the face.
"Move!" Hanamaki screams, and Oikawa rolls to his feet, still gasping for breath. Makki dissipates another fireball, as Oikawa positions himself behind him, falling instinctively into his firebending stance. He scans the deck for the source of the threat—
No.
No, this can't be happening.
Their crew. Oikawa's loyal, strong, powerful crew, handpicked by his father… or supposedly loyal, it seems. Every single one of them, even the nonbenders, have armed themselves, and are facing them with leers on their faces.
Please, let this be some sort of horrific dream.
"What are you doing?" Oikawa snaps, expertly managing to keep the tremor out of his voice. "Stand down, immediately!"
Their captain, a large man whom Oikawa had trained with periodically throughout their trip, steps forward. Hanamaki stares him down fearlessly, and Oikawa's eyes widen as the man draws his sword with one hand and summons flames in the other.
"Sorry, your majesty," he says, words twisted with sarcasm. "But Ushijima's paying us a pretty price for your death. It's nothing personal, really… actually, we're quite fond of you. But, you know," he shrugs nonchalantly and flashes a sly smile, "business is business."
"Oikawa," Hanamaki growls, "get back."
Oikawa is having problems moving. He stares, in shock, at the gathered men and opens his mouth to give the order again (he's still in denial, he can't believe this, he's been betrayed by Ushijima, of all people—), but before he can get a single word out the crew launches a bombardment of flames towards them. Makki struggles to redirect such a large onslaught, stumbling a step backwards as the flames lick past him.
Oikawa refuses to watch Makki hurt because of him, so he steps forward and joins his power with his friend's, pushing the flames back a small bit. Hanamaki grunts in wordless protest, but Oikawa silences him with a raised hand. Makki falls quiet—they have never needed words to communicate effectively.
The attacking flames die down for a moment, and Oikawa sucks in a deep breath. "Gentlemen," he says in his best impression of his father. "Let's be reasonable about this—"
"Don't," the captain says, eyes narrowing. "You can't convince us to back down. We've already been paid, and Ushijima will have our heads if we don't kill you."
Hanamaki growls and widens his stance.
"You'll have to get through me, first."
"Makki—" Oikawa warns, but Hanamaki cuts him off.
"Don't be an idiot. I've protected you for years, and I'm not about to stop now."
The crew is impatient, and one charges Makki while his attention is turned away, driving a knife towards Makki's ribs. Hanamaki sidesteps to avoid it and kicks him over the side of the boat with a stream of fire from his foot. The move, while well-executed, leaves Oikawa without defense for a split second, and the crew sees the opening and takes advantage of it. Oikawa's eyes widen as he and Makki are separated, and suddenly there are weapon wielding traitors on all sides of him.
"Get him!" someone shouts, and Oikawa yelps, twisting to the side as a sword narrowly misses his nose.
"Oikawa!" Makki yells, but he's being herded in the opposite direction. Oikawa grits his teeth in frustration and twists his body to avoid a knife and a stream of flames.
"I don't want to fight you," Oikawa warns. "Stop this now, and I'll make sure your crimes are pardoned—"
No one answers him, and Oikawa rolls to avoid a flaming kick that would have connected with his head. To the side Hanamaki is already going all-out, his war cries mixed with the sounds of roaring flames and shouts as his opponents are beaten down.
Oikawa knows neither of them can keep this up for long. He is dodging desperately now, dancing frantically in the middle of a circle of sharp points. Even as he moves, one man gets lucky, and his knife grazes Oikawa's leg. Oikawa hisses in pain.
It's time to get serious. Well, he did warn them.
He raises his hands and calls on the lightning. Electricity races across his fingertips, sending tingles through his entire body. The air around him is suddenly filled with the scent of ozone.
The crew backs off slightly. They know what he's capable of—after all, they've watched him train here for weeks. Oikawa stares them down, blue light crackling between his hands. For a split second he considers showing them mercy, but then he hears Hanamaki cry out in pain, and his gaze hardens.
His ex-crew are enemies of the crown, and deserve no mercy.
He fires the lightning bolt, and a column of men fall. Oikawa tries not to remember their names, and immediately summons another blast.
For a while, they manage to hold out. They're doing surprisingly well against such overwhelming numbers. Oikawa is surprised that they've held their ground for so long. Maybe, if they can keep this up—
The second he begins to think along those lines, everything goes wrong.
The crew's efforts are redoubled, and suddenly Oikawa finds himself desperately defending himself from multiple blasts of fire on several sides. With a flurry of moves he twists in the air and launches his own attack with an expert kick, but his precise movements can't compete with the sheer amount of flames rushing towards him.
He gets burned. Once. Twice.
He's tired, too. The cold air, combined with the constant dodging and combat, saps his energy far too quickly.
Suddenly, the crew holds back. Oikawa grins at them despite his exhaustion.
"Getting tired? I could do this all day."
"I wouldn't be getting too cocky, Prince," a voice says, and suddenly Oikawa is slammed into from behind, and he's thrown across the deck, landing up against the metal railing of the ship. He cries out in pain, and Hanamaki whips around at the sound. He can't do anything, can't help, because he is surrounded by his own attackers.
Oikawa is on his own.
The captain stalks towards the fallen prince as Oikawa drags himself to his feet.
"You die here, Oikawa Tooru," the captain says, and launches himself at Oikawa. Oikawa dodges his first fireball and leaps into the air, kicking out a wave of flame and following it up with a thin, whip-like stream, lashing out at the captain. The captain ducks under his first attack and sidesteps the second, and throws his arms out in a sweeping arc. A torrent of fire rushes from his hands, and Oikawa is battered against the edge of the ship as he deflects it.
"You can't keep this up forever!" the captain shouts, and Oikawa glowers at him and bends a column of flame into existence. The column begins to twist and shake until Oikawa has a flaming tornado at his command. He directs it, without hesitation, at the captain, and the resulting explosion temporarily blinds him for a split second.
As he struggles to adjust to the lighting again, a hand wraps around his throat, and he is slammed into the ground onto his back. He cries out in pain as he is pinned there by a heavy body, and a knife is pressed firmly against his neck.
That had been stupid; to use a move he commonly practiced on this very deck against the crew. They had watched him do it a thousand times, so of course they had known how to avoid it.
Now he will pay for the mistake with his life.
The captain hovers over him, keeping his hands tightly pressed to the deck above his head with one hand and holding the knife at his throat with the other. Oikawa swallows and feels the edge of the blade prick his skin.
"And so ends the Prince of the Fire Nation, Oikawa Tooru," the captain mutters, and Oikawa closes his eyes.
"TOORU!"
There is a scream and then a roar, and suddenly the hefty weight of the captain is lifted off of him. Oikawa sucks in a hasty breath and rolls, scrambling to his feet and ignoring the tiny droplets of blood that trickle down his neck from the nick. Hanamaki is standing in front of him once again, and his mouth is open in a roar, massive streams of fire coming out of both fists and slamming into the captain. His back is hunched and one of his arms is bloody, but other than that he seems fine, and Oikawa breathes a sigh of relief, wearily preparing himself to join the fight again.
Hanamaki, as if sensing this, turns his head without letting up his attack.
"Get out of here, idiot! Run!"
"A Prince doesn't run!" Oikawa hisses back, but Hanamaki finally turns towards him and grabs him as he moves, heading straight for the edge of the ship.
"M-Makki!" Oikawa gasps out as he is dragged along, and Hanamaki speaks as he runs, sparing a quick glance at their ex-crew.
"Oikawa, they're after the throne-well, Ushijima is after the throne. Your father is most likely dead, and if we don't move now, you will be too." He shoves Oikawa closer towards the edge of the ship and spins just in time to deflect a fireball.
"Where are we going to go?" Oikawa shouts at him, gesturing wildly at the surrounding ice. "It's frozen wasteland in every direction!"
The crew is far too close now, and there are too many for them to fight against. The captain pushes his way to the front of the angry crowd.
"Give up, Prince. Come to your death with some sort of dignity."
Hanamaki snarls and Oikawa bristles in anger, punching out to launch a fireball at the man, but to his disdain the attack is dodged with ease.
"I'm not about to roll over and die just because Ushiwaka says so," Oikawa hisses, and suddenly Hanamaki stiffens in front of him. As they watch in muted horror, a completely fresh group of their crew storms onto the deck, raising their hands in preparation to attack.
"Oikawa." Makki's voice is low. "Run."
"Makki, I won't—"
"Tooru, get out of here!"
Oikawa isn't stupid. He knows what Makki is trying to do. "I won't leave you!" he protests, grabbing his friend's shoulder.
Hanamaki swears colorfully and knocks Oikawa's hand away. He twists his head to lock his own gaze with Oikawa's, and the prince blinks at the furious expression on his face. Makki stares at him for a few harsh seconds before his face softens, and he smiles at Oikawa briefly, small and apologetic.
"Don't hate me for this."
And then suddenly he puts both hands on Oikawa's chest and shoves, and Oikawa tumbles over the guardrail and into open air.
He falls for what seems like an eternity. Oikawa flails in midair like a baby bird, struggling to right himself before he hits the unforgiving ice below. He succeeds, but he isn't able to get himself into a good position to roll and soften the impact. He hits the frozen surface wrong, and his leg twists, pain spiking up to focus in his knee. A shout rips its way from his mouth. For a while he can't even move, eyes wide and mouth open in a wordless cry of agony and shock.
It hurts.
The ship continues to move, and when Oikawa opens his eyes it is to see that it is already in the distance—how long had he been incapacitated?
Although it is far away, he can still dimly make out flashes of bright flames erupting on the top of the boat. Makki is still fighting strong, and Oikawa knows that his friend will continue to fight until he can no longer move. He would never allow himself to be captured by enemies of the crown.
In other words, he will die protecting his Prince.
Oikawa feels sick and dizzy, both from the pain and from fear. He can't quite make out identities at this distance, but he knows what it means when the raging flames suddenly go out.
"No," he whispers hoarsely, watching as the distant ship continues on its path. "No, no… Makki!"
He tries to stand, because he has to help Hanamaki, but a sharp bolt of agony runs through the nerves in his leg, and once again he crumples, falling uncoordinatedly into the snow.
Gasping, he lifts his head, and can only watch as the ship, his traitor crew, and his best friend are carried away on the current.
He is cold, and he is alone.
"Makki," Oikawa gasps, eyes flying open, and immediately screams in pain. His fists clench involuntarily, and his throat aches from the cry.
"Oi, be quiet," someone grumbles, and Oikawa gasps when something prods his leg again. "You aren't dying."
Oikawa blinks deliriously, only half-registering the spoken words, and bites down on his lip to stop the whimper from escaping his lips when fingers ghost over his knee.
Princes don't whimper. It's not dignified.
"You—I—where am I?" Oikawa finally gasps out, squinting around at his surroundings. He's in… a… an igloo?
"Northern Water Tribe," the voice grunts, and Oikawa shifts his gaze to look around the room. There are furs everywhere, and Oikawa is lying down on the bed in the center of the room. "This is the healing hut. I found you out on the ice."
For the first time, Oikawa's eyes rest on the speaker, and he isn't surprised to see that it is indeed the same person as before—the one with spiky hair and green eyes.
"Um… thanks for that," Oikawa says awkwardly, and then clenches his teeth and tosses his head back when the stranger grabs his leg to hold it still.
"Don't move," the stranger says, and Oikawa watches as he skillfully lifts his hand and bends a globe of water into the air. His movements are smooth, but there is underlying power to them, and his muscles flex as he sends the water to hover over Oikawa's knee.
Here the stranger pauses, and closes his eyes, sucking in a deep breath. Oikawa is about to ask what he's doing when suddenly the water starts to glow, and then the stranger puts the water on his knee.
Instantly the pain is dulled, and Oikawa gasps in relief, jaw falling open in amazement. The pain isn't completely gone, but as he watches, the stranger's eyes furrow in concentration, and the water glows with more intensity than before. Oikawa winces and clenches his teeth as bones scrape together and something pops in his knee, but immediately after a soothing coolness encompasses the area. He exhales in grateful relief as the waterbender lifts the water away and lowers it back into the bowl on the small table.
"Oh," Oikawa says, cautiously bending the joint. His eyes widen when it barely even twinges. "That… thank you," he says sincerely, lifting his gaze to the stranger again.
"No problem," the waterbender says gruffly. He narrows his eyes as Oikawa tries to sit up and hisses as the burns on his arms make themselves known.
"Don't move yet," he says, and bends more water to Oikawa's skin again.
For a few awkward moments, all is silent except the faint hum of the glowing water over Oikawa's arms. It is extremely soothing, and Oikawa sighs at the calming feeling.
"Um… what's your name?" he asks hesitantly.
The waterbender doesn't look up from his healing, but his expression softens slightly.
"Iwaizumi Hajime," he answers. He moves after that, lifting the water back into the container in a fluid motion of one arm. Oikawa raises his arms to inspect them—they don't even sting, and the skin looks untarnished.
"Amazing," he whispers. He had heard of the famous waterbending healing before, but this was the first time he had ever seen how effective it was.
Eyes wide, he looks towards Iwaizumi and swings his legs over the side of the bed.
Iwaizumi is wiping his face. He looks exhausted, and sweat drips down the side of his face. Oikawa hadn't considered it, but healing must be extremely taxing, especially healing of such a large scale.
"You're lucky full moon is coming up," Iwaizumi says. "Otherwise I'm not sure if I would have been able to fix that."
"Thank you," Oikawa said again. "I would have died without your…"
He trails off, because he suddenly remembers something that he should not have forgotten.
"Makki," he breathes, and stands abruptly. He has to go back to the ship and find out what happened to him.
Before he can take a step, however, he is suddenly shoved backwards, and a blade of ice digs into his throat. Iwaizumi looks angry, and suspicious, but Oikawa doesn't care.
"Oh, come on," he hisses, glaring back at Iwaizumi's glower. "This is the second time I've been attacked today, and I need to see if my friend is alive, thank you. Get out of the way." His flames would be weak right now because of the cold, but they're still usable, and as grateful as Oikawa is for Iwaizumi's help he isn't afraid to use his bending if necessary.
Hanamaki's life is at stake.
(Assuming he isn't already dead.)
"You aren't going anywhere until I get some answers," Iwaizumi snarls. "You appeared outside our tribe in the middle of a snowstorm, wearing nothing but a flimsy Fire Nation robe and looking like something the cat dragged in." He ignores Oikawa's yelp of protest and grabs his shirt in a rough grip. "What about that isn't suspicious?"
Oikawa takes a deep breath. He needs to stay calm. What would his father do in this situation?
He exhales and slowly raises his hands into the air.
"My name is Oikawa Tooru," he says to Iwaizumi. When the waterbender's face shows no sign of recognition, Oikawa continues. "I am the Prince of the Fire Nation, and I was on my way here on a diplomatic, routine mission to meet with your leaders."
"Well, that obviously went well," Iwaizumi mutters sarcastically. "Why were you out in the middle of a snowstorm, idiot?"
Oikawa scoffs, because despite Iwaizumi now knowing he is royalty, his tone has not changed at all. It's disrespectful.
"It wasn't by choice!" he snaps. "I was betrayed by a cousin at home—he hired my crew to kill me, and the only reason I'm not dead is because—" he swallows painfully, "is because a friend sacrificed himself for me."
Iwaizumi stares at him for a moment, and then steps away, his ice blade melting in an instant and dripping down to the floor.
"How do I know you aren't lying?" he asks, but before Oikawa can answer him, the flap of cloth covering the entrance of the igloo is shoved aside, and a figure dashes through, panting for breath.
"Iwaizumi!" the person yells, and then coughs twice, struggling to breathe. Iwaizumi's eyes widen, and he turns away from Oikawa to grab the person's shoulders gently.
"Kunimi, breath," Iwaizumi orders. After a few moments, he nods his head. "Now, tell me what's going on."
Kunimi straightens, and there is poorly contained fear in his eyes.
"There are ships coming towards us, cutting through the ice in the distance!" he says. "They'll be here in an hour—Suga thinks they're Fire Nation, he sent me to get you. He and the others are already up on the wall—"
Iwaizumi swears and rounds on Oikawa angrily, fire in his eyes. Oikawa flinches back at his rage.
"They're probably looking for you," he growls. He moves to leave, and Oikawa blinks at his retreating back.
"Wait!" he calls after him. "You really think that the Fire Nation could send up ships this far north within a day of the betrayal?"
Iwaizumi pauses.
"A day?" he says tonelessly. "You were asleep for three, and I spent all of them working on that leg that you messed up."
Oikawa gasps and stares at him in shock. "Why wasn't that the first thing you told me?"
Iwaizumi shrugs.
"You didn't ask. And I'd say whoever wants you dead didn't wait to send those ships after you. It was probably planned since the beginning." His words are grim and his fists clench as he speaks, and then he turns and leaves, following Kunimi.
Oikawa blinks, not completely understanding his words for a moment before it hits him.
Iwaizumi is suggesting that Ushijima had been planning to send ships out, even before he knew Oikawa had survived his attempted assassination.
Ushijima had planned on launching an attack on the Northern Water tribe since the beginning. He was going to start a war.
The shock of that realization makes Oikawa's breath begin to come out in short, panicked bursts, because this means that his father is dead, for sure. And his mother, and sister, and nephew—
He feels like he's going to be sick.
His hands are trembling, and he clenches them around the sides of the bed as he sinks down to sit on it again.
Please, please just let this all be a bad dream.
He pinches himself, once, to see if he can make it stop, but nothing happens.
Oikawa tilts his head back and squeezes his eyes shut, ignoring the twin tears that run down his cheeks.
He is, currently, the sole heir of the Fire Nation.
He can't afford to grieve for long, even though it hurts and he is terrified. Ushijima has killed his family and started a war, and as the Crown Prince, Oikawa can't just allow that to happen.
His father is dead, so it is his own responsibility to stop Ushijima and save his people.
It is a huge, incomprehensible burden for him to suddenly take on, but if he does not, who will? This is what he was raised in preparation for, after all.
He takes a deep breath to steady himself and wipes his face with the back of his hand. He doesn't have any more time to cry. The Fire Nation is coming, and Oikawa can't sit in a healing hut while the people that saved his life fight for their tribe.
Oikawa steels himself and gets to his feet, crossing the room and shoving his grief to the back of his mind. He has more important things to worry about.
There is a parka resting on a little wooden table next to the covered opening of the igloo. Oikawa pauses for a moment before putting it on, and then pushes his way outside.
The sky is clear, but the sun is weak, as it always is in the North Pole. Oikawa sighs as the light hits his skin anyway, rejuvenating him and filling his limbs with more energy. The Northern Water Tribe is fairly small. There are well-crafted igloos (probably bended) scattered around the area, with small fire pits placed between them. Oikawa takes a moment to focus on one, taking comfort in the tiny pulses of life he can sense from the crackling flames.
"Excuse me."
Oikawa yelps and whips around, raising one arm defensively at the sudden voice.
"You are Oikawa Tooru, correct?" the beautiful woman says, and Oikawa's eyes widen as he takes in the Water Tribe garb and long black hair.
"Um," he says intelligently, but she is already turning away, gesturing for him to follow.
She leads him through the camp, and Oikawa is surprised to see only a few people milling about the igloos, and they are all either warriors or benders—he doesn't see any children.
As if reading his mind, the woman glances back at him, not stopping her long stride.
"We have evacuated those who cannot fight to the ice plains north of here. They will be safe for now."
Oikawa nods and swallows nervously. It's a smart move by the Tribe, but isn't a permanent solution. He has come to the conclusion that the Water Tribe knows they do not stand a chance, but they prepare to fight anyway, to defend their homes and families.
They approach the edge of the tribe. The entire perimeter is surrounded by a large and fairly impressive ice wall, but there is no path to get to the top. He is about to say something when she lifts her hands and makes a graceful upward motion, and suddenly they are shooting upwards on a pillar of ice. Oikawa does his best to maintain his balance, but when they get to the top he stumbles and nearly faceplants into the snow as he steps off onto the wall, barely catching himself in time.
When he rights himself, two pairs of eyes land on him—one weary but good-natured, and the other glaring in annoyance. Iwaizumi scoffs and turns away after a moment, but the other Tribe member, a silver-haired man with a soft smile, offers Oikawa a little bow devoid of sarcasm or teasing.
"Prince Tooru," he says, and Oikawa blinks in surprise.
"You know who I am?"
"Of course—I'm the Northern Water Tribe's diplomatic representative, and the son of the Chieftain," the man answers brightly. "My name is—"
"Oh," Oikawa interrupts. "You're Sugawara, right?" That was the name of the man he had been supposed to meet with during this mission, but obviously things hadn't turned out like that.
Sugawara chuckles. "I am," he says. "But you're welcome to call me Suga."
Oikawa nods at him and returns the smile. Suga's personality is bright and refreshing, and it is a nice change from the grumpiness that Iwaizumi showed him.
"Thank you, Kiyoko," Suga says to the beautiful girl who had guided Oikawa earlier. "I appreciate it." She nods, but her jaw is clenched, and she is moving before anyone can say anything else, brushing past Oikawa coldly and striding away across the wall towards a group of other warriors.
Suga sighs, and his head droops slightly. Oikawa can see the signs of a good leader under stress in his body language, and a pang of guilt hits him. This is all his fault.
"Sorry," Suga mutters. "We're all a bit on edge, I suppose."
They look out across the ocean in front of them, and there are blurs approaching from a long ways off-the Fire Nation ships.
"I… sorry," Oikawa says quietly. He isn't quite sure how to respond to that, and Suga blinks at him before moving closer, getting into his personal space.
"Hey, hey," he protests. "Listen to me. This isn't your fault. You're just as much of a victim as we are."
Oikawa shakes his head.
"I could have—could have done something. I should have—"
"What would you have done? The only way to maybe avoid this would have been for you to lose your life, and it seems like your cousin was planning to attack us even before he found out you survived anyway, so that wouldn't have done anything anyway."
Oikawa is surprised that he knows that much, and Suga picks up on his confusion, grinning at him softly.
"You talk a lot in your sleep."
"Great," Oikawa groans. "What else do you know?"
Suga closes his eyes for a moment.
"If you don't mind me asking… who is Makki?"
Oikawa flinches at the name, turning his head to the side so the waterbenders won't see the expression of pain and fear that flashes across his face.
He can't allow them to see how scared he really is.
"Makki—" his voice nearly breaks, but he swallows and continues, "Makki was a close friend. My advisor. He… he saved me from my potential assassins at the cost of his own—" He stops here because he doesn't want to say it, and luckily Suga doesn't make him.
"I see," he says. Then he steps forward and claps his hand across Oikawa's shoulder, a silent pillar of support, and Oikawa relaxes at the feeling. "I am sorry for your loss—for all of your losses. I can't imagine—"
"Suga," Iwaizumi interrupts, and Suga immediately turns his gaze towards the Fire Nation ships. Iwaizumi points upward. "Look."
Oikawa lifts his head slowly, and shudders when he sees it.
Black snow. Soot.
The Fire Nation has brought an army.
"Go sound the alarm," Suga says grimly. He raises his voice so that his shout can be heard all across the wall. "They're coming! Everyone get ready!"
The waterbenders move as one and slide into bending stances with a grace that Oikawa could never hope to match. In an impressive show of balance and power, they move as one, gesturing towards the sea and snow on the outside of the walls, and pull it up against the barriers, where it hardens into ice. The wall thickens, strong with nearly impenetrable frozen water.
"Right," Suga says, turning towards him as Iwaizumi and the rest of the benders continue to strengthen their fortifications. "I didn't tell you why I called you up here in the first place." He is still dead serious, and Oikawa realizes that Suga's entire way of life is at stake here. "Listen to me. My Tribe and I will support you and help you to get the throne back. Your father was a good man, I spoke with him on several occasions. And I'm willing to do whatever it takes to stop Ushijima from starting this war he's so intent on beginning."
Oikawa feels his heart swell up in gratefulness to the silver-haired bender. This is all happening so fast—it has literally only been about an hour since he woke up in the healing tent with Iwaizumi hovering over him. He feels completely overwhelmed by this entire situation—but Suga is willing to support him, and even though he just barely met the man, he feels like he could cry in relief.
"So," Suga continues, "I need your help right now. I need you to tell me anything you can about how the Fire Nation might attack us."
Oikawa balks at that for a second on instinct before he remembers that the Tribe will be slaughtered if he doesn't tell them. And at this point, his loyalty to his nation is… slightly complicated. He has nothing to lose. He takes a deep breath.
"I'll tell you everything I know," Oikawa says, and Suga dips his head in thanks, turning back towards the approaching ships in the distance.
"We will fight to defend our home," Suga says, and Iwaizumi makes a little sound of agreement behind him. "We won't let Ushijima just take what he wants."
Oikawa nods with their words, and feels a wild wave of courage and strength rise up within him.
He won't let Ushijima win without a fight.
The guard comes down the hallway, and Kuroo watches as they pass by his hiding spot with the clank of heavy, Fire Nation boots.
This is dangerous, he knows. But he doesn't have another choice-he needs to do this now, before Ushijima suspects him of something. Already he is unsure of Kuroo's loyalty, and if Kuroo gives him even one reason to suspect him, he knows he will not wake up in his bed the next morning.
He pokes his head out of cover and sees that the coast is clear. It is a simple matter from there to slip into the hallway and make his way silently to the messenger hawk mailroom.
He had changed out of his heavy royal guard armor before he came here, so his footsteps are light and quiet when he moves. He would be questioned too much if he were found in his own Royal Guard armor here, anyway. These are the foot soldier barracks, but Ushijima's spies goes through all of the mail sent out through the palace, so Kuroo can't send his letters from there.
He reaches the door and holds his breath as he opens it, exhaling in relief when no one is there. Most of the hawks are asleep, but a few shuffle as he slips in—luckily none are annoyed enough by his presence to screech at him, and he is thankful for that.
The letter is small—a single piece of parchment, tightly rolled and tied with a little section of twine. Kuroo stares at it for a moment. It is so incredibly important, and it must get to the right people. Kuroo's position at the Fire Palace is good—it allows him to be close to Ushijima at all times as one of his guards—but a single slip up will mean his execution, and he can't afford to be caught personally leaving the area when he's suppose to be guarding the "Fire Lord's" bedchamber.
A messenger hawk is the best he can do.
He selects a bird at random. They all look the same to him, he isn't very good with them, either. They tend to snap at his fingers if he gets too close—
Footsteps.
Heavy and clunky, signifying armor, and fairly close—coming around the corner and moving towards the room.
Kuroo has no time to hide, and panic suddenly seizes at his chest.
He cannot be caught. He's put too much time, dedication, and pain (the death of the Oikawa family haunts him each night) to be stopped now.
So, the second the guard pushes open the door, Kuroo launches himself at his opponent. He doesn't want to use his bending, simply because fire isn't a very subtle element, and uses the guard's surprised hesitation to grab at the man's neck under his helmet—if he can get it at just the right angle, maybe he can—
"Kuroo!" the guard hisses frantically, reeling backwards, and Kuroo freezes, hands loosely wrapped around the man's trachea. The voice is familiar, and Kuroo groans quietly, releasing his prisoner. He swears softly.
"Bokuto, I nearly killed you—"
"But you didn't!" Bokuto whispers defensively, rubbing at his neck, and Kuroo sighs, moving back to his messenger hawk.
"What are you doing here?" he asks. Bokuto takes off the clumsy guard helmet in a smooth motion, tucking it under one arm, and in the moonlight his golden eyes gleam with a seriousness that Kuroo normally only sees on Bokuto when he's in the middle of an intense fight.
"I came to back up my best friend, of course. Idiot. Why else would I be here?"
Kuroo frowns at him.
"Listen, we can't both be caught—we can't be seen together."
"Honestly," Bokuto huffs. "We won't—neither of us will get caught. These are my barracks, I'll say you're with me."
Kuroo tries to get his messenger hawk to stick it's leg out, but it narrows its eyes at him and ruffles its feathers petulantly. He doesn't reply to Bokuto, and a moment later he feels his friend grab his arm carefully.
"Hey, hey, hey," Bokuto says, although it lacks the usual volume and enthusiasm, and he moves so that his gaze is even with Kuroo's. "You've been off since the coup, bro. It's tough for all of us, and you can't keep doing this to yourself. It wasn't your fault, you know—"
Kuroo's vision suddenly tunnels, and pictures flash before his eyes.
The Fire Lord and Lady are surrounded by flames. Kuroo and the rest of the Royal Guard fight to keep their assailants at bay, but there are just so many—
Ushijima steps into the room, and as his gaze sweeps over the area—his eyes focus on Kuroo for only a split second before moving to their Nation's leaders—
A knife digs deep into his side, and Kuroo shouts from the pain before kicking his attacker away. Ushijima is coming, he's getting closer to the Fire Lady, Kuroo needs to go, go go move move MOVE NOW—!
The Fire Lady's blood is crimson red, the same color as her dress.
Her husband falls soon after, and Kuroo screams at the men holding him down, thrashing against their iron grips.
The Royal Guards are completely helpless, and they watch in horror as Ushijima takes the crown for himself, one member of the royal family falling after another.
Ushijima stands over the surviving members of the Royal Guard, face impassive, ignorant of the tremendous red stain running down the front of his robe. "You will serve me," he says. "I will break you if I must."
Some fight him at first, but Ushijima is brutal, and deep, lashing burns cover each of their bodies. Only a few days have passed when the first man caves, swearing himself into Ushijima's service with a heaving sob.
They each break, one after another.
Kuroo is last. He grits his teeth, but he cannot move, and Ushijima is relentless and powerful. His mind is numb with pain, and every inch of his skin burns.
"You are not like the rest of them," Ushijima whispers into his ear at one point, when Kuroo has nearly passed out in agony. "Strong, and more loyal than most. I want you."
He holds out for as long as he can, but he can't last forever.
He breaks.
It's all his fault.
"...roo, Kuroo, come on, come back to me, it's fine, everything's fine, Kuroo—"
He is curled up into a ball on the floor with his eyes squeezed firmly shut. He does not want to open them. He's shaking, too. Uncontrollably. He can't control his breathing.
"Kuroooooooo. Listen to me, you're not there, it's not real. It's just a flashback, open your eyes, come on…"
Slowly Kuroo becomes aware of a hand pressed on his back, and a second one running through his hair. Bokuto.
He slowly opens his eyes and blinks at how close Bokuto is. The soldier is peering at him anxiously, although he tries to hide it with a quick smile when he sees that Kuroo is looking at him.
"Hey," he greets softly. "You alright?"
Kuroo shudders, struggling to clear the gruesome pictures in his mind away, and focuses on Bokuto's face instead.
"Bo… Bokuto," he says shakily. "I—the Fire Lord, we failed them, we couldn't—"
"You did no such thing," Bokuto snarls, and Kuroo flinches away from his rage, because it is a rare and dangerous thing when Bokuto uses that tone of voice. "You all did your best—you were overwhelmed, and Ushijima is far more powerful than any other firebender we've encountered before."
Kuroo exhales.
"But I swore my oath to him, even after what he did, I couldn't—"
"You swore under torture and the threatening of others," Bokuto growls, and his grip on Kuroo's back tightens for a moment before it loosens again. "And if I hear you try to blame this on yourself one more time, I swear, Kuroo…"
"You weren't there," Kuroo bites out, swallowing a sob and clenching his fists. "You weren't there, you didn't see, Bo, it was horrible, we couldn't—everything was—"
Bokuto is patient with him, and shushes him quietly, stroking his hair. Kuroo remembers a time when Bokuto never would have been mature enough to handle this sort of situation—but people change with the times, and Bokuto has recently exhibited an amount of restraint mixed in with his usual antics. Kuroo has never been more grateful for it, despite his own love for their normal shenanigans.
He hates this. Kuroo hates this fear inside him, so much. He is terrified of Ushijima, and it is not right. Kuroo is (was) a proud member of the Royal Guard of the Fire Nation, tasked with protecting their Lord and Lady… and he had failed, and been forced to betray his country, because of one man.
Ushijima's loyal spies are everywhere. Kuroo is lucky he has Bokuto for support, because he knows that without his friend, he would have collapsed under the pressure and terror days ago.
Bokuto's presence is incredibly smoothing. The world is slipping back into clarity, and Kuroo's flashback is fading. Slowly he comes back to himself, and he is on the floor in the middle of the Messenger Hawk mail center with a letter clenched in his fist and Bokuto's comforting warmth around him.
This is dangerous. Someone could walk in and see them, and suspect something, but Kuroo can't find the will to care at the moment.
He is tired.
"We can't do this alone," he says, and Bokuto nods.
"You're right," he agrees. "Which is why we're taking this risk, yeah?" He gestures towards the letter. "We're the only ones with access to the palace, there are people counting on us to get them this information."
Bokuto reaches towards a messenger hawk, and it leans into his touch as he strokes it's feathers. Kuroo huffs indignantly—Bokuto has always been good with birds, and he's just a little bit jealous.
The bird shuffles as Bokuto takes the letter from Kuroo and places it in the tube attached to the bird's back.
"The Western Air Temple," Bokuto says clearly once the bird is comfortable with it's burden. It cocks its head and looks at him, and Kuroo sighs as it raises it's powerful wings and takes off, disappearing out the window above them and vanishing into the night.
"I still don't believe that they're smart enough to know where they're going," Kuroo mumbles, and Bokuto grins at him, a tiny bit of relief shining through in his expression that Kuroo is back to normal.
"They aren't ordinary birds, bro."
"Yes they are," Kuroo says, and Bokuto glares at him.
"Hush, nonbeliever. These are the most incredible birds you will ever see."
Kuroo is silent for a second before he reaches out and grips Bokuto's forearm.
"Bokuto-"
"Kuroo. You don't have to apologize."
Kuroo opens his mouth, but Bokuto shakes his head.
"It's fine. It's not your fault, either. Ushijima—"
Footsteps sound just outside, and they both freeze.
They've been here for too long, but now that Ushijima's had control for over three weeks, they rarely see each other anymore—and Kuroo had his own issues to worry about, being as close to the tyrant as he is every day.
The footsteps pass by them, but neither of them relax.
"We need to—" Kuroo starts to say, but before he can finish Bokuto grabs him and tugs him into a very manly hug.
"Yeah, I know. Stay safe, okay? Don't get caught. I need you. Otherwise I don't think that—" He cuts himself off and his gaze darts to the floor. For the first time, Kuroo can see that Bokuto is just as scared as he is—he just hides it better—and he grips Bokuto tightly before he lets him go.
They don't say anything else, and Bokuto slips out before Kuroo does, putting his helmet back on and clunking away casually. Kuroo glances back at the window the hawk had flown out of once before he turns away and slips out of the room.
A single feather drifts from the open window and lands silently on the floor as the door to the Messenger Hawk room is pulled quietly closed.
Akaashi had gotten use to Hinata's noise, so when the tiny Avatar suddenly falls silent, he frowns and turns around towards his fellow airbender.
"Hinata, what—" he starts to say, but he freezes in shock when he sees that Hinata's eyes are glowing. Kenma is sitting next to him on the bench, wide-eyed, and one hand reaches up to touch his friend.
"Don't—!" Akaashi says, panicked, and Kenma freezes. Akaashi takes a deep breath to calm himself. He doesn't know very much about the Avatar State, but he knows enough to recognize it, and knows better than to touch Hinata when he's in it.
"Kenma. Fetch Takeda, please. Hurry."
Kenma nods mutely and darts away, using a quick burst of air to speed out of the room.
Akaashi watches Hinata's hair whip around in the breeze that is emanating from his body. Hinata's accessed his Avatar State before, but he's never stayed in a trance for this long. His eyes are still glowing.
The winds are picking up, and Akaashi lifts his hand and bends his bow staff into his palm, spinning it around to create a shield from Hinata's furious torrents of air.
"Akaashi!" someone yells over the howling noise, and suddenly Takeda is there, Kenma close on his heels. Takeda yells something else, too, lifting his arm to shield his face, but Akaashi can't hear him. For a brief moment, he panics—the true extent of Hinata's power has never fully been tested, what if this uncontrollable surge spells the destruction of the temple?
And then, as sudden as it had started, it ends, and Hinata groans and crumples to the floor. The wind dies down almost instantly, and Akaashi blinks as Takeda and Kenma race to the young Avatar's side.
"Hinata, are you alright?" Takeda asks frantically, shaking the boy. "What happened?"
Hinata groans again and rolls over, and his eyes are wide, orange hair standing up almost more than usual. Akaashi clenches his bow staff in his hand at his fearful expression.
"A… a warning," Hinata gasps out. He's trembling, and his voice is quiet. It's so unlike his usual excitable demeanor that Akaashi's eyes widen in surprise. "The past Avatars wanted to warn us. They say…" he trails off, and they all lean in closer as he shudders.
"Fire...there was so much fire—"
"The Fire Nation?" Takeda says. "But we're allied with them. Fire Lord Oikawa—"
"The Fire Nation has been suspiciously quiet for the past few weeks," Akaashi cuts in. Takeda shifts nervously.
"Well, yes, but—"
"My informants in the Fire Nation haven't sent me any news," Kenma says quietly. "And that's rare for them. It's possible that something has happened."
They are silent for a moment, until Hinata speaks up again.
"War is coming," Hinata says seriously. "Something is very, very wrong in the world, and we need to be ready for it."
The very concept of war is terrifying. They are pacifists, their element is not meant for battle.
But even before Hinata can explain more of his vision, Akaashi makes the decision that he will fight.
He will not see his home destroyed a second time.
So, this is what I have been working on frantically for the past... I don't even know how long. But I really like it, and I hope you do too.
Sorry if you aren't a fan of this particular point of view. As a writer, I need experience with all different types of POV, so I'm sorry if it annoys you.
Normally, I'd think of Iwaizumi as an earthbender, to be honest. But there was this fanart (I have no clue who created it and I can't find it again now anyway which is sad) of firebender Oikawa and waterbender Iwaizumi, and I fell in love with it, so yeah... this happened.
I'm very seriously looking for someone to beta read this stuff who will be willing to tear me apart. Anyone interested?
I hope you enjoyed this! Hit me up with a comment or a PM if you did, or if you want to beta read! This will also eventually be posted on ao3 as well, so watch out for it!
Thank you! See you at my next update! :)
