A/N: The cabbage merchant shares a meal with a homeless boy. young!Combustion Man. I imagine that he was possibly be an orphan and had to grow up alone on the streets. Here comes the lovely, cabbage merchant to help him out.

Submission for:

Avatar: The Last Airbender Fanfiction Challenges: Alphabet Challenge: C - Combustion Man, Cabbage merchant, cabbage, cooling

Disclaimer: I do not own AtLA.


He leaned in the shade against the wall of the meat shop at the edge of the market with his head down. His only belongings were wrapped in a small cloth on his right. He scowled as he held his hand to his stomach. What he wouldn't give to have something to eat right now.

Another cloth was tied around his forehead soaking with sweat. It was such a hot day. He would take it off, but he couldn't risk anyone recognizing him. He didn't want the odd stares that he always got when he happened to take it off.

People feared him. Sometimes, he used it to his advantage when he was particularly hungry, but he didn't like being feared. He didn't like the stares because he was different.

"Hey, kid, watch your feet," an old voice said from above him.

He looked up into the sour face of an old man pushing a cart of cabbages through the market, almost about to run over his extended legs. He drew his feet to his body quickly, pulling his cloth bag closer to him as well.

"You alone?" the old man asked, taking in his dirty face and his raggedy clothes.

He just stared and nodded, shifting a bit away from the man and his questions. Adults only spoke to him when he was in trouble. He had done nothing wrong that he knew of but he didn't want to prolong this conversation further in case he be blamed for something.

The cabbage merchant's face softened however. He parked his cart a few feet away in the shade and walked around to a small pot. He hummed a little tune as he spooned some liquid out of the pot and then handed it to him.

"This is my own recipe, cabbage soup," the old man said with a smile.

He took the bowl graciously and started to the drink. The soup was bland, the smell of boiled cabbage strong and sour, but he didn't care. His stomach was being filled and that was enough for him at the moment.

The old man just continued humming as he shared his own bowl and took a seat on the ground beside the boy.

The soup made him very hot. He placed the bowl down and unwrapped the cloth around his forehead to dab his sweating face. There was a soft gasp to his right and he turned to the old man who was looking at his forehead curiously.

"What's that?" the old man asked, as he chewed a soggy cabbage leaf.

He looked down and said, "Don't know. I was born with it." He truly didn't know exactly what it was. It was some birthmark in the shape of an eye on his forehead, but had some type of amazing power. As an orphan, he had to teach himself what it did and how it worked. Over the years, he learnt how to use it, but sometimes, he still blew himself up in his sleep.

The old man, however, instead of running as others had, just smiled and said, "Looks very cool."

He just stared at him with wide eyes, before he nodded and picked up back his bowl, leaving the cloth off his forehead for a moment. "Cool," he murmured as he took another sip of his cooling soup. It was nice to have someone who wasn't scared of him.