158 ASC

"Come on Bo!" The six year old raced ahead of his brother, speeding down the paved streets of Republic City. The sun was setting along the horizon as chubby four year old Bolin tried to keep up with his light-footed brother. Their parents watched with amusement as Bolin pouted, a frown creasing his face.

"That's not fair Mako," Bolin puffed his chest. "How come we never arm wrestle? I always win those!"

"Exactly the reason," Mako smirked, waiting patiently for Bolin to catch up. But as soon as he did, Mako hoisted Bolin onto his shoulder and paraded him down the walkway towards their parents.

"Put me down!" Bolin hollered each word as passer-bys stared at the two loud brothers with distaste. Mako just grinned at he heard his brother's persistent screams. One of the things he loved most in the world was messing with his little bro. But it was only because he loved him, Mako would tell an annoyed Bolin, before bringing him into a manly hug.

Mako approached his mother and handed Bolin in her arms. His mother smiled and ruffled up Mako's perfectly gelled hair, causing him to groan in annoyance.

"Mom! Stop it!" He pouted, earning a laugh from Bolin. Mako glared daggers at his brother before being picked up swiftly by their father and placed on his shoulders.

Mako released a high-pitched squeal, flushing deeply when his father chuckled heartily, his green eyes glittering. Mako smiled slightly and wrapped his arms around his father's neck, burying his face in the soft red scarf, his father's most prized possession.

Mako stole a glance at Bolin who was on their mother's shoulders, playing with her long, dark hair. He sighed contently.

This was perfect. Young Mako felt an indescribable happiness. He had a family that loved him. His strong, brave father, kind and gentle mother, and cheeky, fun-loving brother. As he leaned his head on the scarf, he remembered all the good times the four of them had together. Watching his first pro-bending match, sailing around Yue Bay...but suddenly, like a flash of lightning, a different memory resurfaced.

"Please, Father! I only had the Fire Nation's best interests at heart. I'm sorry I spoke out of turn!" Mako realized that he was speaking. His emotions were haphazardly as he was kneeling, looking at a looming figure in front of him.

"You will fight for your honour!" The shadow spoke menacingly.

"I meant you no disrespect. I am your loyal son." Mako replied. Confusion ran through him. Surely this wasn't his memory. Where was this? When was this?

"Rise and fight, Prince Zuko!" The figure grew closer, as Mako tried to stand up, but was contained. He felt helpless. He wanted this memory to end.

"I won't fight you." Mako replied. He tried to speak, but these words came flowing out of his mouth. Looking around, he saw he was in a hall, with rows of people on either side of him. And then a word came into his mind. Agni Kai.

"You will learn respect, and suffering will be your teacher." The figure brought a stream of fire crashing onto the left side of his face. All Mako could remember was flesh slowly melting of his face, his eye burning and the smell of rotting skin as he fell into the darkness.

Panting, Mako realized he had tears in his eyes. Hastily bringing his fingers to his left eye, he let out the breath he was holding. His face was okay, but the pain felt so real. Shaking his head, Mako replayed the last few seconds of the memory in his head before finally giving it up. He had no idea who he was, or what he was doing. His trail of thoughts were interrupted by his mother's voice.

"Look, how beautiful the statue is right now," Her voice floated towards Mako, snapping him out of his thoughts. Mako turned his head to face the statue. What was it called? Something Memorial Statue. Mako looked closely at the statue. It was made of stone, a bald man in robes holding a double flag. The streams of yellow, orange and red from the horizon cast a shadow upon the figure, illuminating the outline. But as Mako directed his focus to the arrow on the statue's forehead, a wave of realization hit him in the face.

"Aang. Avatar Aang," Mako whispered. His father turned to him curiously, his green eyes widened.

"How'd you know Mako?" He asked his oldest son.

"Lucky guess," Mako muttered back, burying his head in the material of the red scarf. He wasn't sure what was going on. Nothing like this ever happened before. Why now? Closing his eyes and pushing his face into his father's shoulder, he tried blocking out the infinite amount of memories flooding back to him.

Azula. Sister. Ursa. Mother. Ozai. Father. Fire Lord. Sozin's Comet. 100 Years. Team Avatar. Aang. Sokka. Appa. Mai. Ilah. Uncle Iroh. Who was I? A banished prince.

He faintly remembered a pretty face, dark, thick hair, and startling blue eyes. He remembered laughing with the girl, fighting the girl, and betraying the girl. He remembered confronting her mother's killer, battling his sister and kissing her for the last time. She smelt like salt water. Salt water and air. And as weariness pulled him under for a long sleep, Mako dwelt on the name that stuck in his head. Katara.

Author's Note: Hello everyone! No Makorra action here, unfortunately. I plan on them meeting somewhere around Chapter 5. I need to create a good background setting for this story for it to make perfect sense. So it has been confirmed. Zuko is Mako! Pretty obvious. Yes, the ending was cheesy. Haha. Sorry, about that. Anyways, love to you all :)