Author's note: I present the much, much-awaited part two...


Part Two: The Education

The stars powdered the black sky with their twinkling aura. Zuko had a perfect view of them, enjoying the short intermission from his storytelling. He sipped his quenching tea, and tried to locate the moon above. It was supposed to be at the phase of the full moon tonight, so why couldn't he see it? Maybe, it was behind that annoying cloud that obscured the picturesque scene.

"So let me get this straight," Sokka said, trying to delve deeper than the words of Zuko's tale. "Even as an eleven-year old kid, and not yet a fully-fledged teenager—you were always very melodramatic?"

"And apparently had fell in love at first say with 'honor'," Toph snickered.

"Angst," Katara added, finishing off the remains of her food. The other listeners chuckled at the trio's analysis, all the while getting to know the Fire Lord's son a bit more.

"Yeah sure," Zuko answered back. "Because that's the way I like it—tragedy defined."

"Wise words of wisdom from your uncle," Aang put in, "should be cherished, Zuko."

"Why don't you explain its meaning to me, Avatar?" Zuko asked, leaning forward.

"What?!" Aang said, facepalming himself. "You still haven't figured it out?!"

"W-well—" Zuko mumbled, scratching his head.

"You're sixteen. Five years and you still can't decipher it?" the Avatar cried. "Okay, I should calm down," he added mildly. "So this is what it means—the sun—"

"Aang, no offense," Sokka interrupted, gesturing his hands wildly. "But I also have understood its meaning, and since you are the Avatar, I should go first."

"How is that connected?" Toph asked.

"So here it goes—the sun shines in the day, rises in the East and settles in the West. And since the Fire Nation 'is' in the West, the sun sets there. And at night the moon comes up and THE WATER TRIBE RULES! It makes perfect logical sense!" Sokka yelled.

"My son is very smart," Hakoda remarked flatly.

"And because of that, the meaning just got messed up all over again," Zuko commented.

"Can I say what it means now?" Aang inquired.

"Later, Twinkletoes," Toph answered, munching on a carrot. "We are going to save that for last. After all, we want to have a nice moral lesson at the end, and not some one-year old explanation like Sokka's."

Several chuckles escaped from the group, as the fire cackled happily along with them.

"So, what happened next?" Suki asked.

"I trained. I learned," the former prince said, counting off his deeds. "End of story."

Sokka blinked. "Unfair! Give us a detailed tragic description of your dysfunctional childhood! With—some sunny drama," he added.

"Fine," Zuko said, after a brief pause. He glanced one last time towards the heavens, and he could finally see the shining white disk that had watched his every move since he was a toddler. The moon seemed to have a face, but before Zuko could see it clearly, another cloud covered it up.


He sat cross-legged near the turtleduck pond, watching the waters shimmer and darken under the concealed moon's care. He peeled off a small portion of bread and threw it towards the hatchlings. The turtleducks quacked with happiness, and started eating up the food. When the water stilled in front of Zuko again, he could just see his youthful face.

The face in the pond seemed strong, invulnerable even, but as a drop of water fell upon it, the face expressed sorrow. Zuko realized that the drop of water came from his gold eyes. He was crying.

'How weak,' he thought. He crushed the remaining bread and threw it in the pond, hearing it splash. He lost his cousin, Lu Ten, and now his mother.

"What next? My honor?" Zuko asked sarcastically, directing the question towards no one.

He was afraid. He had to admit it.

He stood up, and trudged off towards his bedroom. Slamming the door shut behind him, he saw something glistening behind his soft pillow. Coming closer, he pulled it out, and saw that it was his treasured pearl dagger. He remembered now. Zuko had hugged his pillow while holding his dagger on the right hand, tearing up at the news that his mother was gone.

He collapsed onto his bed, and unsheathed the short blade. By the orange light of his lantern, he could just see the phrase, 'Never give up without a fight' on it.

Never give up without a fight.

He repeated the words in his head as he tossed and turned under his blankets. Tomorrow, his education with swords starts. His uncle shall take him to Master Piandao's place. He needed to be ready. He wasn't about to give up and succumb to despair.

Day One:

"Are you ready, Prince Zuko?" Iroh asked, as they neared two large red gates with the Fire Nation symbol on them.

"I am ready as I'll ever be," Zuko answered cryptically.

"Whatever that means is up to you." Iroh went up to the doors and used the metallic dragon-headed door knockers to announce their arrival, tapping one gingerly onto the hard wood. Zuko held his breath, and instinctively felt his side, where he hid his pearl dagger. Earlier on, he debated whether to bring it or not, but he decided to involve it during his training anyway to serve as motivating inspiration.

The right part of the double doors opened, revealing a serious man in a black robe with gold trimmings, but this one had graying hair, unlike Master Piandao, who had black hair. The man was rather large.

'He must be the butler' Zuko deduced.

"Hello," the butler said without emotion. "I trust that you are Prince Zuko?"

"I am," Zuko confirmed.

"Come in then," the man invited, moving aside and allowing the young prince to pass.

Zuko walked in, and the first things he saw were another set of doors, and towering turrets of great architecture. Master Piandao's place mimicked the designs of a castle, but everything seemed more pleasant, more connected. And even more balanced. White walls and red roofs fitted together perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle that were meant to be linked.

He stepped forward, and he sensed that his uncle wasn't following him. He turned around, and indeed he saw that Iroh was just looking at him with—Zuko didn't know what emotion was it—was it pride? The butler was still holding the door, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"Uncle," Zuko called. "Come on."

"Go on, Prince Zuko," Iroh said, eyes sparkling. "You need to give your whole attention to the task at hand. You need no distractions."

"But—" Zuko refused.

"Go on. I'll pick you up later," Iroh persuaded.

Zuko nodded reluctantly . The butler bowed to Iroh and closed the door. He gestured for the prince to follow him.

"So," Zuko said, as the butler opened the next set of doors, revealing a staircase at the right, leading to the second floor. "What's your name?"

"I'm Fat," the butler said, walking up the stairs.

"No, I mean, what's your name?" Zuko asked again.

"I said that my name is Fat, Prince Zuko," Fat replied in an annoyed way.

"Oh? Um," Zuko mumbled. "Nice to meet you... F-F-F-Fat."

The prince feigned a kind smile. Fat turned his back.

Zuko mentally facepalmed himself. He quickly followed Fat, trying to be serious, and forcing his laughter to disperse. He can't take it any longer. He opened his mouth and started laughing silently, clutching his stomach while he did not make any sounds—a very difficult thing to do. He swallowed and regained his posture.

As soon as he set his foot on the next floor, he saw Master Piandao standing before him, framed by the sunlight pouring in the room from the large open windows.

"Prince Zuko," Master Piandao greeted. "Shall we start?"

The next thing Zuko knew, he was being led to a low table. He sat down on the soft cushion and studied the things on the flat surface directly in front of him.

There was a clean piece of straightened paper, with two wooden paper-flatteners on top of it. Black ink and calligraphy brushes were ready to use at the right side of the table. Typical writing tools for short.

"I know that the crown prince must focus in becoming a ruler," the swordsmaster started. "But as a warrior, you must practice a variety of arts to keep your mind sharp and fluid. The first you will learn is calligraphy. Sign your name."

Zuko raised an eyebrow skeptically, "Sign my name? Shouldn't you teach me the tricks of using a sword?"

"Yes, Prince Zuko. But writing your name reveals who you are in a way," Piandao explained patiently. "When you become the Firelord, you will sign a lot of things with your name. However, your name is proof enough that your command and order should be respected and obeyed. And when you hold a sword, the signature moves that you will learn shall be known famously sooner than you realize—"

The swordsmaster stopped instantly, clearing his throat, and he bent down and got a brush. He offered it to Zuko.

"Take it," Piandao urged, "your highness."

Hesitantly, Zuko extended his right arm and grabbed the brush.

SNAP!

The sound of splintering wood filled the room. And the shocked prince's eyes widened at the sight of the broken brush at the center of his palm.

Piandao was also surprised. "You're not angry, are you, Prince Zuko?"

"N-no," Zuko gasped, dropping the two separate pieces. "I swear I did not even apply pressure!"

"You are stronger than you are aware of," the master whispered. "Get another brush."

"And if I break it?" the prince asked.

"Try not to," Piandao replied.

With a shaking hand, Zuko gently took another brush.

SNAP!

"Argh! Why does it always snap in half?" Zuko yelled in a frustrated way, throwing the mangled pieces behind him and out of the window. He formed a fist.

"Prince Zuko! Calm yourself!" Piandao commanded.

Zuko breathed deeply, trying to clear his mind. Why does everything he touches fade into nothing? Like his mother...

Piandao swiftly took another brush. "Give me your left hand."

"So I could break another one of those things?" the prince cried. "Besides, I can't write properly with my left."

"Your strength is out of control—," Piandao argued.

"MY STRENGTH IS AN ILLUSION!" Zuko interrupted.

"You may be a prince, but I am your tutor," his master replied calmly but matter-of-factly. "Just do what I say."

Zuko glared at the brush, as if daring it to break again. He held out his left hand, and Piandao laid it.

Zuko tried to keep himself in check, and he closed his fingers around the brown stick. He awaited for it to crack, to fracture—but it didn't.

"Good. Now write with it. And no buts—" Piandao added as Zuko opened his mouth to refuse.

Sighing inwardly, he dipped the bristles onto the ink, and placed them on the white paper.

"Don't take back the stroke of the brush, nor do the same way with a sword," Piandao instructed.

Zuko moved his hand, and began creating the characters of his identity. When he was finished, the result was an abysmal penmanship.

'Even my name fades into nothing,' Zuko thought.

He brusquely grabbed another sheet of paper, not caring if he crumpled the top-left edge of it. "I am going to write it again—until I perfected it."

"As you wish," Piandao complied, nodding once.

The crown prince stared at the blank straightened parchment he had prepared for himself. His strong right hand was useful in terms of writing, but useless in holding. His left hand, however, was weak but it can carry a tool without crushing it. But his hands were both part of him, commanded by him.

"Prince Zuko?" Piandao muttered as he observed the prince do something that was supposedly unnecessary. First, Zuko grasped his left wrist using his right hand, and next, he forced his left arm to begin writing by moving it with his right. Face contorted in concentration, he formed the characters very slowly, but surely.

And the outcome was impressive. He was able to sign his name with legible penmanship. It was hard, but he triumphed in doing the task. He wiped his sweat from his forehead. Focusing is tiring indeed.

The prince felt a hand on his shoulder, and he looked up to see the face of his master. Piandao was staring at him in a serious way.

"What are you doing?" Piandao said quietly.

Coldness formed in the pit of Zuko's guts. "What did I do wrong?"

"Come back tomorrow," the master said, not answering the prince's question. "Perhaps what you need a special type of education."

"Tomorrow?" Zuko asked indreculously. "Why not continue to train, M-Master?"

"Because I said so," Piandao answered sternly.

"But...what special education?"

"Surely, a little bitter work on you wouldn't hurt," Piandao said in a mysterious way, raising both eyebrows.

'You just think that I am worthless to teach,' Zuko thought. 'Now that you see that I am hopeless, even at writing my own name—why continue to instruct me?'

"Maybe I am not worthy for this," Zuko said hoarsely as he got up. He did not expect Piandao to answer. He waited near the gates for his uncle to get him, and when he was fetched sooner than expected, he did not say a word despite Iroh's questions.

Unbeknownst to the prince, Piandao had smiled proudly behind his back.

That night, as Zuko rested on his bed, twirling the pearl dagger, he wondered why he ever followed the quote.

"Never give up without a fight," Zuko said aloud, and he laughed mirthlessly. "I fought. Why not give up?"

Zuko sat up and he threw the dagger carelessly at the wall with all the strength he could muster, not at all expecting it to stick. And just as quickly as he got up, he laid back down again.

THUD!

The sound of something hitting hard made him stand on his bed. He was surprised.

The dagger had stuck itself on the vertical surface. Settling his feet down on the polished floor, Zuko made his way to retrieve the weapon. He grabbed the handle, and was about to pull it when he saw the blade. It was sunk deep enough to cover some of the quotes' words. And with the quote written in the reverse direction, Zuko could see the first characters that when uttered, says 'Never give up.'

Zuko stumbled, and his eyes widened.

Never give up...