Silver Leaf

There are no wrong turns

Fellow travellers we share

Amazing secrets

"Why doesn't this work? I don't understand." Zuko yelled, staring dejectedly at his hand which was puffing mostly smoke and weak sparks of fire.

Iroh sighed. "Something in your mind is blocking you from reaching your inner fire, Nephew. Maybe you need more time to heal…"

"I've had enough time. I need to train and make sure I'm ready to face the Avatar when I find him." Zuko retorted angrily.

Iroh suspected that picking back up firebending after the fateful agni kai may not be as simple as Zuko imagined. After leaving the Western Air Temple, the young prince insisted on restarting his training immediately, supposedly to prepare himself for a standoff with the elusive Avatar. Iroh suspected that his impatience was more about trying to prove himself that he was not the weakling his father claimed him to be. Still, he was just a hurt boy, with terrible scars inside and outside that only time would heal.

"Maybe if we take a break and share a nice cup of tea." Iroh offered patient.

"Not everything can be solved with a cup of tea, Uncle." Zuko stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. They had been on sea for weeks now, and Zuko grew more impatient and his temper got worse every day. He lashed out at the crew, at Iroh, at random people on the markets while they were shopping for supplies. He banged his fists against the wall, sometimes until his knuckles were raw and bleeding. But he never cried.

He needed a break from firebending, a distance, but resting was not something that came to Zuko naturally. His pain and rage were fuelling a nervous energy inside him that needed an outlet. Preferably more positive than hurting himself or others.

Iroh leaned against the railing and watched a tiger shark swim by the boat - its body sleek and dangerous. It circled around them. Iroh wondered if he was getting it all wrong. A tiger-shark needed to keep moving to stay alive. If it stopped swimming it sank to the bottom of the ocean and died. Maybe Zuko was more like a tiger-shark. Maybe it was time to give him what he wanted. Iroh pulled out a sheet of paper and dipped his paintbrush in the ink, sealing the letter with the mark of the white lotus.

-0-

"You wanted to see me, Uncle?" Zuko entered the upper deck room of the ship. Iroh was sitting at the table with a tall, wiry man, with an inevitable teapot and a pai sho table between them. While he was beating his head against the wall, trying to come up with strategies to find the Avatar, all Iroh seemed to care about was his stupid tea and that boring game. Zuko had a sudden urge to kick over the table. Instead, he folded his arms across his chest and glared at the stranger.

"Where are your manners, Prince Zuko.? Greet our esteemed guest, Master Piandao." Iroh said on a voice that made Zuko feel like a misbehaving child.

He grit his teeth, but put his hands together and bowed politely towards the man. "It is an honour to welcome a firebending master on my ship," he said with well-practiced politeness.

"Thank you, Prince Zuko. Though I am not a firebending master." The man said mildly as he returned his greeting.

Iroh explained. "Master Piandao is the most distinguished swordmaster in the Fire Nation and a good friend of mine." Zuko felt deflated. A swordmaster, no matter how distinguished is certainly not going to solve his problems with firebending.

"Prince Zuko, your uncle tells me you have an enthusiasm for blades." Master Piandao looked at him with curiosity. Zuko indeed practiced much on his own with the knife and the dao swords Iroh gave him, until his father forbade him to waste his energy on weapons not fitting for a royal firebender.

"My father said that for a firebender it's a waste of time."

"Nothing that you have a passion for can be a waste of time." Master Piandao said.

"As my old friend is heading to the same destination as we are, I agreed that he could come with us - with your permission of course, Prince Zuko." Zuko knew that Iroh did anyways as he pleased, but he liked to emphasize how Zuko was in charge of the ship. It was a well-oiled choreography they had mastered during the past weeks. "It would be an opportunity for you to train with him."

Zuko thought about this. Since his firebending was useless at the moment anyways, there was no harm in learning something he wanted to master for so long. Who knows if he would ever have the opportunity again to learn from a true master. It was definitely better than smashing his head against the wall in desperation and boredom.

He bowed to Master Piandao. "It would be an honour if you could teach me, master."

"Very well, Prince Zuko. Why don't we meet at sunrise tomorrow. Bring along your favourite blade."

-0-

Zuko woke up before the sun. For the first time since his banishment he was really looking forward to his day. He took the broadswords from thr wall and headed to the deck waiting for Master Piandao to arrive. The swordmaster appeared soon, hand curled over a steaming cup of tea and greeted him amiably. He picked up his swords and bent the blades with practiced moves.

"Dao - a dual blade. Only a select few can master this weapon, Prince Zuko. These blades are beautiful. They look plain but there is a superior craftsmanship." He handed the blades back to Zuko then pulled out his longsword. "Well, let's see what you can do."

Zuko looked at him with wide eye. "I never had formal training, Master."

"Well, let's see then you informal training, Prince Zuko," smiled Piandao. Zuko took a deep breath and charged at the master, he parried easily and knocked out the blade from his left hand.

"What have you learnt?"

"I need to pay attention to both blades equally?" Zuko looked uncertainly at the master.

"Well, let's test that theory. Try again."

Zuko picked up the blade and charged again, this time strengthening his grip on the hilt. THe master parried easily again his attacks, and with a lightning-quick movement, the point of his sword was pointing at Zuko's throat, the length of his single blade and his arms making it impossible for Zuko to reach him. The prince was impressed. Master Piandao clearly knew his stuff and Zuko would learn.

"What have you learnt this time?"

He thought for a moment. "That if I pay too much attention to my blades, I'm not protecting myself well enough."

"Exactly, Prince Zuko. That's what makes the dao such a difficult weapon to master. Most people think of it like two separate blades. But it's an illusion. It's a single weapon, the two swords are parts of the same whole. Mastering them requires balance between the two sides of yourself. You need to understand and treat the weapon as an extension of your own body. Not something you do, but something you are." Zuko listened intently trying to follow the explanation, but it went a bit above his head.

"I'm ready to practice, Master." He announced enthusiastically.

"Very well, let's go inside then for your first lesson," nodded Piandao.

"Inside?"

"You need to write poetry, Prince Zuko. About what you learnt today."

Zuko groaned. It looked like Master Piandao shared more with his uncle than just a taste for tea. He was most definitely not going to write poetry. "What does writing poetry have to do with me learning to fight with swords?"

"I just told you. Dao swords require balance. 'The two halves of your body need to function in harmony. All swordfighting requires determination, but also creativity. Writing poetry helps you access that fluidity and creativity of your mind that is so sadly neglected these days in school." The master grimaced in a way that showed his contempt. "Oh, and you must write it with your left hand."

Zuko sat down with a sigh. He held the paintbrush in his left hand. It was an entirely awkward feeling. The pristine blank sheet stared back at him mockingly. Poetry, right ...

His mother loved poetry - she used to read her favourites to Zuko and Azula. They sometimes played games of rhyming words or throwing haikus at each other. Azula got the syllable count right every time, but Ursa said Zuko's words had more soul. Whatever that meant. Obviously, after mother left, there were no more rhyming games or haiku battles, only deafening silence.

Zuko tried to think back to the swordmaster's explanations about balance and a single weapon. He could do this ridiculous thing if it meant he would get to master the broadswords. It was something he wanted to learn ever since he saw the Blue Spirit dance with the blades in the theater. The dark water-spirit was supposed to be the bad guy, but in Zuko's opinion, he only ever wanted to do what was right. But sometimes the path was not so clear, the difference between right and wrong could get real blurry. Zuko understood that; in his own life sometimes things weren't so clear either.

Two sides of one sword,

Whether it is left or right

The blade is just you.

The words emerged from the depth of his soul. He dipped the paintbrush in the ink, and with extreme concentration, like a young pupil trying to write for the first time, he tried to form the symbols of his poems. The paper was soon filled with childish scribbles, the odd ink blots and smudges. He triumphantly carried the sheet over to Master Piandao who was playing pai sho with uncle Iroh.

His teacher took an amused look at the sheet. "Interesting Prince Zuko. But explain to me why do the carrots sing?"

Zuko made an indignant face, but the master was right. His symbol for blade definitely looked more like a symbol for carrot. He huffed than snatched back the sheet. Sitting back to his writing table, he tried to write it down over and over and over. After 20-odd crumpled up sheets, he was satisfied enough that he took it back to Piandao.

The swordmaster read it and nodded. "I think you've understood this lesson very well, Prince Zuko." Then he showed the poem to Iroh. "I didn't know your nephew you had a poet's soul."

"My nephew has many hidden depths, my dear friend. He is a very talented young man." Iroh said warmly. Zuko felt his cheeks warm with embarrassment. Both men, respected masters seemed to genuinely like his poem. They thought he was talented. Nobody ever thought he was talented in anything, at least compared to Azula. Even if it was something as stupid and useless as poetry, the praise gave him a pleasant rush.

-0-

The following morning Piandao made Zuko attack again. Instead of charging blindly like the first morning, Zuko tried to spin around, dodging his teacher's blade, using his agility to get closer to him without losing his blade. He managed to dance around the master's sword for a while, until he knocked out Zuko's blade with a fast sidecut that he never saw coming.

"How much can you see out of your left eye, Prince Zuko?"

Zuko looked at him surprised. Nobody ever talked about his scar. People just pretended it didn't exist or that they didn't notice. Which was ridiculous, considering that it was a huge scar. Of course everyone noticed it. It was almost a relief that someone didn't pretend not to.

"Enough, I think."

"You've done a good job at dodging and evading this morning, but you didn't see the side cut. Don't worry, even if your peripheral vision is restricted, you can learn to use your other senses to expand your vision. A real swordmaster is aware of all his surroundings and knows and anticipates every blow before it lands. Turn your back. I'll throw some things in your direction, lets see if you can cut them."

Zuko turned his back and started to whack blindly around him at what turned out to be flying mango and yamyam roots. He managed to cut the ones more often on his right side. But the master was right, on his left side he had trouble seeing them. He waved his blades around furiously, missing the target every single time.

"You have to use your senses, Prince Zuko. Don't try to see them. Feel them." Zuko closed his eyes and paid attention to the noises, smells, vibrations in the air around him. He managed to cut the mango flying in his direction in half this time.

He kept practicing. When Piandao got bored, the crew took over. They clearly took great pleasure at chucking produce in his direction. Zuko figured that he deserved at least some of it considering how he treated them. In any case, he didn't care as long as he could keep practicing. By the evening, his hair and skin was sticking with fruit juice from all the misses and his muscles trembled from exhaustion, but he felt a sense of accomplishment as he managed to slice perfectly the last five papayas that Lieutenant Jee threw on his damaged side.

By day three, Zuko was completely convinced of Master Piandao's methods and did not hesitate to follow even the most outlandish instruction. He threw himself into painting pictures of the boat, sneaking around the kitchen in stealth mode stealing pies, balancing on one foot on a platform tied to the mast as the waves bounced the boat. It was thrilling to see his hard work rewarded - every day, he duelled his teacher, and every day, he could hold his own against him just a little bit longer.

-0-

Iroh looked out the cabin window at Zuko who was hanging upside down from a rope tied to the mast, he was blindfolded and spent the last hour trying to break free of his bounds. As a firebender he could have easily burnt through the rope, but instead he tried to work it out without the use of his bending.

He took a sip from his cup and turned to Piandao. "I think our plan is working, my friend. Thank you for coming."

"I had my doubts, Iroh. But your nephew is a remarkable young man, even if he has a lot to learn. I don't recall ever teaching anyone as hard-working and stubborn as he is."

"Yes, but I think besides hard work, you have given him something he sorely needed." Iroh mused. When Piandao raised a questioning eyebrow, he added. "Some fun." By Agni, Zuko was still just a boy, yet he had so much pain and so little fun in his life to the point where he didn't seem to know how to allow himself to enjoy anything.

"So what are your plans, Iroh? Are you going to bring him into the society?" Piandao asked. "The Crown Prince could be a great asset to the cause."

Iroh looked outside and shook his head. "No. He is not ready. His heart and mind is still full of his father." As much as Ozai did not deserve it, Zuko truly loved his father and wanted to please him. He would not be ready to face the truth. If he ever joined, it had to be his own choice, not another destiny forced on him.

"So the grand master is just going to aimlessly travel around the world babysitting a grumpy teenager?" Piandao asked sarcastically.

"Well, it gives me cover to visit all our chapters and put a plan in motion." Iroh pushed a tile on the pai sho table.

"What plan?"

"It will come to me, I hope." Iroh said. "But I feel that Zuko is somehow going to play an important part in it."

"Or maybe your judgement is clouded. You waste your energies on saving one boy instead of saving the world." Piandao was on the attack, threatening Iroh's dragon tile.

"One life or the whole world, what is the difference?" Iroh blocked the attack by sacrificing his white lotus tile. The dragon was essential to the strategy he was playing.

"You are philosophical, Iroh."

"After all, the White Lotus is about philosophy…"

The door opened and Zuko appeared triumphantly. "Oh, I see you freed yourself." Piandao gave him an appreciative glance.

"Come, join us. I just put on a pot of tea." Iroh added.

-0-

On the last morning of Piandao's stay, Zuko duelled the master for a good hour, using his strength and agility and superior knowledge of the boat to his advantage.

"Prince Zuko, you have demonstrated the agility of a shadow panther and the heart of a lion. They are both qualities of a great swordmaster. But you also learnt to see the terrain and use it for your advantage. Courage and skill are nothing without strategy. You have a dedication to the art of the blade that will elevate you among the greatest blade-masters. These blades will protect you and those you love, if you wield them with honour." Piandao said. "I hope we will meet again."

"Thank you, Master. For everything." Zuko bowed respectfully.

-0-

After Piandao left, Iroh broached carefully the subject of picking up firebending. "Tomoki volunteered to train with you, Nephew."

Zuko nodded. He soon appeared on the deck with his blades in hand. "I'm ready to start, Uncle."

"But…" Iroh looked at him with confusion.

"I want to see what I can do against a bender." Zuko clarified and turned to Tomoki. "I order you to attack."

The sailor assumed his stance and sent a fireblast towards Zuko. He dodged it easily, and with two quick leaps, he was on top of Tomoki, the blades pointed at his throat. Zuko helped him up.

"Again," he said. Tomoki tried again, this time sending more forceful blasts in Zuko's direction, but the prince bested him again easily. Zuko ordered two more crew members to help Tomoki and danced and dodged around their fire attacks with ease.

"See, Uncle?" Zuko turned to Iroh. "I have my swords now."

Iroh frowned. Maybe his strategy was backfiring. Did Zuko just give up on firebending? Was it a mistake to let him train with swords? In the end, he didn't think so. For the first time, Zuko seemed a bit more confident, like he was thriving. Just give it time, he reminded himself. Zuko will tell you when he's ready . A tiger-shark may learn to leap, but it will never forget to swim. It is his essence.

-0-

It's been two weeks since Master Piandao left. Zuko had spent his days training with his swords, learning about navigation with Lieutenant Jee as they were heading for the Northern Air temple. He fell asleep on his cot while reading a scroll about Sozin's war against the airbenders - hoping to find clues about where the Avatar may have disappeared to.

The dragons came back that night in his dream. They were circling him. "We are fading, Prince Zuko. We need you," they pleaded. Zuko reached out his hand. The red dragon opened its mouth and imbued it in flames. Zuko cried out in his terror, but it didn't hurt. He moved his fingers and watched the flames dance in delicate patterns. "Never forget who you are, Prince Zuko." The blue dragon whispered.

Zuko jolted upright. What did his dream mean? He looked at his hand, the one that was in flames in his dream. He felt the familiar tingling. He opened his palm and a healthy flame appeared, dancing cheerfully. He looked into the fire. My name is Zuko. Son of Ursa and Fire Lord Ozai. I am a student of the ways of the sword. And I am a firebender .

He felt the first rays of sun before he could see them. He got out of bed and went to the deck. Iroh was sipping tea watching the morning mist over the water. "Good morning, Prince Zuko. Would you like a cup of tea?"

Zuko sat down next to the table. "Uncle, I'm ready to resume my firebending training."

Iroh looked at him curiously but only nodded. "Very well. You have a lot to unlearn, but I believe we'll get there in time. But first things first, try this excellent blend of silverleaf I found at the market. It's made from unopened blossoms - it tastes like new beginnings."

Zuko took a sip and listened impatiently to Iroh explaining in great detail the process of growing and harvesting. Finally, he couldn't help himself and interrupted his uncle. "It just tastes like tea, Uncle. I'm ready to start."

Iroh laughed, it was a rumbling sound that came from the depth of his ample belly. "The impatience of youth." Still he rose to his feet and assumed the first position of firebending. "All firebending comes from the breath…"

Zuko imitated him. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his breath, the salty sea breeze filling his lungs. As he listened to the ocean waves crashing against the hull of the ship, he could almost picture that faraway morning on Ember Island when he realized for the first time that he was a firebender. He could almost taste the pure joy of that fleeting moment, when fire filled him with pride and exhilaration, instead of bitterness, dread and pain.