In which a fire is sentient and a young boy learns to be who he really is. Also a metaphorical interpretation of the character Zuko.
"The First Breath"
He was six. At six he was expected to know all of the characters of his language and how to interpret the ancient tomes of his people. At six, it had been three years since he had last played a game that didn't have a lesson hidden in it. At six, he had his first breath of fire.
It was hot and he remembered going first to his mother and then his uncle. He avoided his father as though he were the Artic wind. The fire burned his chest and the smoke made him cough and choke.
'It will pass' his mother told him.
'It will get better' his uncle told him.
'You are weak' his father told him, passing the doorway were the boy cried.
So he dealt studiously with the fire, containing it within himself so as not to show his weakness. He ignored it even as he could feel it gaining strength and force. He pretended that the smoke didn't trail after him as he turned the corner or that his food didn't taste like sulfur. The fire, hidden beneath his clothes and his better sensibilities, followed him everywhere, like one of his father's entourage.
In time it did pass. He was no longer plagued by its foreignness or its weight. He had teachers who taught him to harness it and to embrace it. So he took this power and he ran foreword with it, right into his father's war room.
It was the fire's fault, he reasoned to himself. So he buried it under the weight of his guilt and his scar. It was beneath his honor to allow this fire, this heat to burn him any longer. There were more important things in the world.
'Listen' the fire begged.
'Live' his uncle begged.
'You are weak' his father told him, because his father never begged for anything.
He was weak. Weak and stupid and powerless. So he struggled with his conflicting emotions and duties. What to do, who to listen to, he wondered. Where was he going with this life, with this passion? How could he do anything when he was bound to do something that was wrong?
'Never forget who you are' his mother said.
'Think about what you really want, not what someone else wants of you' his uncle said.
'You are weak' his father said, but he wasn't, not any more, not with the support of his friends and family behind him, leading him to the fresh air.
'Breathe' the fire commanded.
And he did.