Hey guys! Long time no talk. I had fun writing this in math class. It's all flashbacks of Jiro and Zuko just to give you more history. Please read and review and dont forget to check out my other fic "Blood Sister"


The first years seemed to be a blur. A dark house that hardly fit the two occupants. An elderly woman. Not having enough money to stay clothed during the winter. One small spinning top – paint chipped off – as the only toy. The small gray eyed boy watching the spinning of the top, the spinning of Jiro's world.


A three year old Zuko woke up, lulled awake by his mother's sobs. Climbing out of his oversized, "prince sized," bed, he toddled over to her slumping in the exquisite rocking chair from the Earth Nation. The little boy was used to his mother's crying by now as it had been like this at least three times a week since he could ever remember. He could feel her broken heart as he rested his head on her comforting, sob racked, bosom.

And over these periods of nights when the baby prince watched his mother's pain, he learned his first lessons of life.

Emotions hurt.


A handsome boy of nine years woke but could hardly see anything through his mop of dark hair. Sighing, Jiro shook his head and got out of his meager bed. The boy was tall for his age and it shown his ankles in his short pants. He wiggled his toes to warm them up as he stretched, welcoming the morning. The sun lit the room in a feeble attempt as Jiro went to find his Nana.

Nan was an elderly woman with thinning gray hair and brilliant blue eyes. She was a woman of about ninety years and was Jiro's whole world. The old woman had raised him when he had no one. Lulled him back to sleep after his persistent nightmares. Taught him everything he would want to know about life – except about his parents.

"One day, Jiro, be patient. You will know all in due time," she had replied one day after a round of questioning. The boy had shaken his head, giving up on trying to get the mystery of his past into the light.

But today the house was still, very uncharacteristic for the homey, busy household. The early summer morning seemed to hang heavily in the air. The soft patting of his dirty bare feet on dirt was the only sound echoing through Jiro's scanty house.

"Nana! What are you doing sleeping so late? It's a beautiful day," cried out the unusually chipper nine-year-old Jiro. He neared her small, humble room and cracked the door slightly.

"Nana, be decent please. I'm coming in," he called into the dark room.

Jiro walked in and immediately knew something was wrong. The windows weren't shut from the previous night and the bed was still made. Nana hadn't even made it to bed, which means something wrong happened. Feeling an increasing sense of foreboding, Jiro ran into the small bathroom next to Nana's room, calling her name frantically. He ran around the house, just calling.

But no answer came and no answer ever would.

He found her body in the kitchen, a hand over her heart in pain, sprawled on the floor. There was not breath escaping her pale lips and her open eyes were lifeless. Jiro felt the pain and shock stab into his heart with cold cruelty as he collapsed onto the chair, placed his head on the kitchen table, and sobbed.

His sobs racked the table and an object rattled on top of it. Hearing the sound, the boy looked up, tears streaming down his face. On the table, not far from where Jiro sat, was a small, homemade cake. Sniffling onto the arm of his shirt, Jiro pulled the cake forward to look at it.

In the cruel sense of irony. In the wrath of all the sprits against Jiro.

In the handwriting of his beloved Nana, the homemade icing atop the simple cake read:

"Happy Birthday Jiro"


Zuko heart shouts. His mother's shouts. His father's shouts. Sounds he normally was used to, but today it seemed different. The small, eleven year old prince stalked to the door, pressed his ear against it, and listened in.

"You disgrace me, Ursa. DISGRACE ME!"

"If you showed any compassion ever…" A slapping sound resonated and the young Zuko winced. He backed away from the door but the sounds of the fight still flowed past him.

"I will kill him. Send my guards on him or Agni help me. He will be dead before he has time to step into the palace," his father roared.

"No, Ozai. Please have mercy."

Hearing enough, Zuko ran away. It was only two nights later that his mother left him forever.


When Jiro awoke, the clouds were crying. The sounds of the rain seemed oddly calming as the boy stayed curled up next to his dead Nana. He had been there the whole day. The rats were climbing among the place, searching for the cake. Normally it was Jiro's job to shoo them, but he wasn't going to get up.

Jiro just didn't care.

The knock on the door soon after was not enough to motivate Jiro to get up. He was afraid of leaving Nana's side.

But the crashing in of the door was enough to get Jiro up on his feet. The dark night could not hide the figures standing at the doorway in the rain.

Fire Nation soldiers.

Jiro jumped up and pressed against a small wall; standing in shock. The kitchen was in the same areas as the front door so Jiro could see the soldiers but the soldiers couldn't see Jiro. But the boy was able to hear the command whispered by the captain. "Kill him."

Jiro, his heart racing, ran to the back of the house as the soldiers came pouring in. By the time the boy reached his room, he could hear and feel the smoke and fire as the soldiers started to burn the house. He stopped in his tracks and ran back down towards the kitchen.

"Nana! No!" he cried. A dark outline blocked the door – a large soldier with a cruel grin.

The boy turned around for the second time and headed to the bathroom. He scrambled to the small, boy sized window at the top of the wall and squeezed through it despite the soldier's exasperated cry.

Jiro stumbled to the ground, feeling blinded in rage and by the pouring rain. The house was half ablaze and the boy stood there in shock as the cold rain pierced his skin and chilled his bones.

A pair of hands grabbed the unobserving Jiro and pulled him close. Jiro struggled in his captors arms until he heard its voice. "Jiro! Calm yourself. We have to get you out of here if you want to live." A woman's voice. He stopped struggling and let her carry him off into the woods. All the while thinking:

What a birthday…