Disclaimer: ATLA is the property of VIACOM, Nickelodeon, Paramount, Mike, Bryan, and Night. No profit is made by me for this story.

Notes: This chapter is meant to be a breather between the events of the Western Air Temple and the search for the weapon. I had a great time writing this chapter, as it is almost entirely Fire Nation culture. More will happen next time, I swear. In the meantime, enjoy tea and shipping.

Thanks: Without the screencaps from the people at Avatar Wiki, I would have very little sense of the capitol layout. Thank you! Also, Malena-sama provided me with fresh art, and you can see it by clicking on my profile. And last but not least, OrePookPook drew Katara's new threads, and you can see them by clicking the link in my profile.


It is the stillest words that bring on the storm. Thoughts that come on doves' feet guide the world. --Friedrich Nietzsche


They walked in silence for a few hours. Zuko had a tendency to get a little ahead of her; his legs were longer and he seemed to be on the lookout for something. But they found only raccoon-toads croaking and chirping away into the night. Katara guessed it was mating season -- the bull-toads seemed very insistent about the quality of their lily pads. Neither of them had much to say, except the first time Katara saw dancing spots of greenish light winking in and out of her vision and brought their trek to a standstill just staring at them.

"Those are fireflies," Zuko said. "They only come out in the summer."

"Do they bite?"

"No, they don't bite, they just…glow." He frowned. "You've never seen them?"

"The South Pole doesn't really have a lot of bugs."

He nodded. He seemed to consider something for a moment, then he held up his palm. A small ball of flame appeared there. The fireflies gathered around it, darting in and around the fire like a crowd of stars surrounding a sun, like the charts in Wan Shi Tong's library said they did. "Come see."

Cautiously -- why am I worried about scaring bugs? -- Katara approached the little team of fireflies zooming around Zuko's hand. Their glowing bodies bumped into each other. Katara giggled. She found herself leaning down, eyebrows perilously close to the flame. The little humming, sparking bugs reminded her of something: "The Cave of Two Lovers!"

Zuko's fire snuffed out. "What?"

Now they stood in the dark, the only light from the stars and the fireflies. "We got lost in this tunnel on the way to Omashu," she said. "These traveling musicians told us about this special cave made by Oma and Shu so they could be together and they said all we had to do was trust in love and-"

"What does this have to do with the fireflies?"

"I was getting to that! Our torch went out and suddenly these crystals started glowing in the dark."

"…Like Ba Sing Se?"

Katara nodded slowly. "Yeah, I guess so." She frowned. A cool breeze drifted over the pond to their right. Lemur-tail reeds rustled together. "That seems like such a long time ago. It was before we even met Toph."

Zuko nodded. A shadow of pain drifted across his face for just a moment. Then his good eyebrow furrowed. "You took directions from a group of musicians who told you to trust in love?"

Katara threw her hands in the air and pushed past him. "Only because Fire Nation tanks were chasing us!"

A moment later, he followed.


Near dawn, their steady northwesterly walk brought the smokestacks of the harbor town into view. From then it was easy: Zuko seemed to know where he was going and he quickened the pace until the harbor lay beneath them and the grass at their feet seemed to be the last piece of greenery for miles. The plaza's white stone still bore a few battle scars from the Day of Black Sun: busted turrets, gaps in the stone. Katara tried to count the boats in the harbor but it was still too dark. "It looks so different with all the people," Katara said. She sat down and hugged her knees. Her feet thanked her. "I guess we should have known something was wrong when there weren't any boats docked down there."

Zuko said nothing, merely stared down at the harbor. He sighed. "I've been thinking." He clenched and unclenched his hands, shifted on his feet. "Ozai told me my mother was alive. Or that she could be. If he asks you, tell him I'm looking for her. Tell him I needed money to get passage on a ship and the only thing I knew how to do was make tea."

"But you don't know how to make tea," Katara said. "And if your dad is questioning me, I think I'll have bigger things to worry about."

"But Uncle Iroh's story doesn't make any sense," Zuko said. "If Aang had b… If Aang wanted me to leave, I would go looking for her. The only reason I would have to stay in the Fire Nation is to make enough money to travel."

"Making tea." She arched an eyebrow. "And what am I doing in this plan?"

"What plan?"

"The fake one? Where you're finding your mom?"

Zuko blinked. "You're… I don't know. What are you doing?"

"I'm…" Katara thought. If she weren't with Aang and the others, where would she be? What would she do? "I'm trying to get home," she said. "It's a long way to the South Pole without a flying bison, so I guess I'd need to work my way there, too."

"So we're both working. Together."

Katara grimaced. "Okay, okay, so it's not the best lie ever, but not being good at lying isn't exactly a bad thing." She kicked off her shoes, summoned her water, and wrapped it around her feet. Cool healing energy coated them. She sighed. "Thank goodness…"

Zuko shifted again. "We should get moving."

"I know, I know, my feet just hurt."

"They'll let us sleep once we get there."

"Says who?"

"Says me. Come on."

Rolling her eyes, Katara corked her bending water in her double waterskins and wearily rose to her feet. Zuko resumed his position in the lead. Behind him, she crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue. When he turned around, she smiled brightly and said: "Lead on!"


The sun steadily climbed higher as they threaded their way past factories and factory neighborhoods. Zuko kept them away from major thoroughfares where men and women walked to work; he took alleys and more than once she suspected he was lost. But as they walked the smell of the harbor grew stronger and the wind from the water grew chillier; she heard toucan-puffs. They arrived at a red arch with a single sign that featured an oyster opened to display its pearl. It was sort of cute, like an open laughing mouth. The sign creaked in the breeze. Zuko stood under it and winced. "We're here."

He led them into what seemed like an ordinary -- if shabby -- domestic neighborhood. Katara saw a lot of little shops with perfectly ordinary lanais and lanterns, and what seemed to be apartments above them. Futons hung over railings. She watched women pinning up their washing on the lines between buildings. It reminded her of the Third Tier of Ba Sing Se -- not great, but functional. "I thought you said this was a wealthy neighborhood."

"I-"

"Hey!" A man appeared in the middle of the road. He was a little bit pudgy and he seemed to have trouble walking. His feet moved in one direction, but he moved in another. He raised a shaking finger at Zuko. "Aren't you-"

"No," Zuko said, and kept walking. A moment later, Katara remembered to follow him.

"Was that guy…drunk?" She said it in a whisper.

"Most likely."

"But… It's the morning."

"Yes. Well." Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose. "Welcome to the Oyster District."

Finding the Blue Sparrowkeet didn't take them long. It was a small, three-storey stucco building that sat across the road from a much larger building called The Chimneystack that appeared to be closed. (Actually, most everything seemed to be closed. Katara saw one greengrocer putting up his awning, but aside from him the whole district seemed to be asleep.) Zuko informed her that it was the Dai Li bathhouse, mentioned something about it being for men only (she had a hard time believing that one) and then turned to the teahouse itself. The Blue Sparrowkeet had a sign with its eponymous bird carved across the surface with an unlit red lantern hanging beneath it, and a wraparound lanai of dark wood. Like the other storefronts it seemed to be closed.

"What's wrong with this town?" Katara asked. She went to the window and peered inside. It was dark and still. Someone had placed the chairs seat seat-down on the tables so their legs poked up into the air. Dust motes drifted in a slanting bar of morning sunlight. She curled her fingers through the holes in the window's steel screen. "Nothing's open. I thought firebenders rose with the sun! Are these people just lazy?"

"The district doesn't, um, really get moving until the evening," Zuko said. "That's when the factory whistle blows."

"How come-"

"Hey! You there! We're closed!"

They turned to see a very tiny old man hustling up road, two big sacks on either arm. He was completely bald aside from a bizarre crop of white hair growing out from behind his ears that reminded Katara of Momo. He quickened his pace and hurried up to the lanai. "Didn't you hear me? We're-" He stopped short as Zuko turned to him. His white eyebrows flew high into his wrinkled, sunspotted forehead. "Oh! You're-"

"Lee," Zuko said. "Lee and Kuma."

Katara resisted the urge to kick him. She was perfectly capable of choosing her own fake name, thank you very much, and she happened to like Sapphire Fire. Where did he get off doing all their sneaky spy stuff without her? "Right," the old man said. "Lee and Kuma. Well, Lee and Kuma, please come inside." He retrieved a long key from his pocket and used it to open the door. "Yes, yes, come in, you must be very tired, come in…" They followed him inside. The old man shut the door behind them, squinted out the window, dropped his bags, and bowed low before Zuko.

Zuko took a step back. "You don't have to do that."

Smiling, the old man rose slowly and said: "Well, it's not every day I have a member of the royal family in my teahouse. At least, not since your uncle was last here." He clapped his hands and turned to Katara. "And you! My brothers told me about you!"

"Your brothers?"

"Xu, Dock, and Bushi! They told me all about you!"

She frowned. Where had she heard those names before? The old man mimed taking off a hat. Katara's palm met her forehead. "Great…"

"You did such good work as the Painted Lady! I'm very happy to have you here!" He made a little bow. "My name is Rari. Let me show you to your rooms. And you must be hungry! I'll have to…" Rari scurried over to some stairs and hurried up them. He had the same spry energy as his insane trinity of brothers. They followed his bandy legs up two flights of stairs to the third floor of the building. Rari handed Zuko a key. "I'm sorry there's just one for the two of you, but the spare is with me," he said. "Don't lock each other out!"

Zuko ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Can we just rest, now?"

"Oh, of course! You should find everything you need inside. The washroom is at the end of the hall, over there." Rari pointed. "I'll wake you up for work if the afternoon whistle doesn't!"

"Don't we need some kind of training?" Katara asked.

"All in good time!" Rari started down the stairs. "First, some tea! And maybe some fruit! And oh, some nice dumplings!"

Katara and Zuko leaned over the railing and watched him descend the stairs back to his shop. Rari quickly left their view as he headed back toward what must have been the kitchen area. "I have a bad feeling about this," Zuko said.


Katara had lived in a lot of different places since joining Aang. She had slept on the back of a flying bison, been on a prison ship, kept a whole First Tier house in Ba Sing Se mostly to herself, and single-handedly organized an upside-down Air temple. A run-down little apartment in the Fire Nation capitol's laziest district shouldn't have bothered her. But it did.

"Why is there only one room?" she asked, pointing at the bedroom. Someone had left the door a little bit open and pulled down gauzy mosquito netting around a broad futon. A little vase of orchids sat on a low table beside it.

"Because my uncle has a stupid sense of humor." Zuko shook his head and slammed open the linen closet. He began pulling out a futon and blankets. "It doesn't matter. I'll sleep in here." He threw his futon on the floor and unfolded a blanket across it.

"Oh. Thanks." Katara busied herself drawing shutters over the two large windows in the sitting room. One looked out onto the street; the other faced a courtyard that Rari had devoted to growing fruit and vegetables. From here, she could see into the back gardens and windows of three other buildings. Nothing stirred. She closed the shutters and brought the whole room into dimness. When she turned Zuko was looking at her like he expected her to say something. "So… We made it."

"Right."

"And now we're roommates." Saying the words failed to achieve the desired effect. She had hoped that by naming the source of her discomfort it would simply evaporate, but she still felt a great chasm of awkwardness spreading between them. Why in the world did you agree to this? This is the stupidest plan in the history of stupid plans! Share an apartment with the guy who tied you to a tree? Get captured by the Dai Li and kiss up to Crazy and her creepy friends? Steal from the Fire Lord's personal vault? Have you lost your mind? She pointed at the bedroom and put on her best smile. "Are you sure you don't want it? We could do Rock, Pa-"

"You can have it."

"Oh. Well. Thanks again." She looked into the bedroom. She wanted to sleep, but there was something she had to do first. "Um, I'll just be…" She jerked a thumb toward the hall and hated herself for blushing. "If you'll excuse me."

Zuko said nothing. When she finished up in the washroom -- where even the water from the fish-mouthed faucet smelled vaguely volcanic and sulfurous -- he was already on his futon, boots off, lying on his side. He seemed completely and utterly asleep. This was a comfort, because it meant that when she shut the door and crawled onto her strange bed in this strange part of an even stranger country, he didn't hear her start crying.


She woke to the sound of thunder. For a moment Katara forgot where she was -- the mosquito netting was more than a little spooky. But then she smelled orchids and seawater and coal smoke and remembered. Parting the net, she slid off the futon and opened the shutters on her single window. She guessed it to be afternoon, but the storm made it difficult to tell -- the sky had gone a strange and lively purple. What few people dotted the streets hurried from place to place with paper-and-reed umbrellas shielding their faces. The wind blew and rain hit her in the face. She bent it away and stepped back from the window, closed the shutters. Sliding her door open, she found an empty sitting room.

She frowned. Opening the linen closet, she found Zuko's futon neatly rolled up with the blanket folded on top. Crossing to the front door, she pulled it open and left it propped. Nothing. "Hello?" Her voice sounded a lot smaller than she wanted it to be. "Hello?" No answer. Not even Rari seemed to be in attendance. The teashop remained dark. When she checked for light under the washroom door, she saw none. She was alone.

When in doubt, explore. She stood a little straighter and made her way down the stairs. The second floor had a door much like the one to their apartment -- oh, that was an odd phrase for her mind to turn over, their apartment -- and when she knocked no answer came. Sighing, she turned away and continued down to the teashop. She wound her way past the little tables and back toward the kitchen. Aside from the odd row of wall-mounted hourglasses, the kitchen seemed perfectly normal. Rari had kindly labeled everything -- the big canisters of various teas, flour, rice, red beans, and sugar. Katara opened each of the kitchen's drawers: mortars and pestles, tableware, rolling pins, knives, extra dishes. It seemed Rari also liked to bake -- Katara saw a basket of fresh speckled eggs near an impressive row of outsized cast-iron teapots. She picked an egg up-

-and almost fumbled it when someone pounded at the door. "Open up!"

Swallowing, Katara replaced the egg and made her way to the front room. Through the window, she saw a man and woman in Fire Nation militia gear. It's a trap! That's why they abandoned you! She immediately dropped to the floor. Where was the nearest exit? How would she get out of town? Why was she stupid enough to go along with this plan in the first place? The pounding sounded again. "We just want somewhere to dry off!"

"I'm sorry," she said from the floor. "We're closed."

"Come on, just give us some tea!"

"No!"

"I told you it was closed," the female officer said. This sounded like a frequent conversation between the two of them. "The lantern's not lit."

"But it's chilly…"

"Why don't you whine about it some more and see what happens?"

Katara heard their footsteps creak across the lanai. She poked her head up and watched the officers leave. She waited a full three breaths before standing up. Exhaling, she hurried back up the stairs. From the apartment, she could survey both sides of the building without too much trouble. Once inside, she shut the door, opened the shutters, and moved from side to side checking for the officers or any other sign of danger. Gradually, the number of passersby increased. Rain continued sluicing down; she wondered where she would go if she had to leave. Was this really a trap? Why else would they have left her behind like this? Would she be better off running away now? No. Wait until the streets are more crowded, then you can just disappear.

The clouds thickened and the room darkened. Summer made the day long but the storm plunged it into an early twilight. She hunted for spark-rocks to light the lamps, found none. Soon lightning was the only real light, and thunder the only sound aside from the steady dance of rain and her own breathing. And it just barely covered the sound of footsteps on the stairs, so she almost didn't know to uncork her waterskins until the door squealed open and a dark shape filled the threshold. She aimed her water whip straight for its head and watched it duck before throwing its hood off.

Zuko. "It's me! It's me!"

She stood up. "Where were you? Where did you go?"

"Well, why was this door unlocked? Anybody could have gotten in! And why are you sitting alone in the dark?"

"There aren't any spark-rocks! Not all of us are firebenders, you know!"

She heard a rather annoyed growl and watched a flurry of sparks fly around her to light the lamps. Their sudden glow exposed Zuko, soaked with rain, carrying his bag. Water dripped off him and pattered on the floor. He still held his key in one fist. Katara swallowed. "You're dripping everywhere." She bent the water free of him and into a potted plant. "There."

He shut the door. She watched him turn one bolt, then another a little higher up. "You didn't lock the door."

"I know. I forgot. I was a little distracted, what with everyone leaving me here." She folded her arms. "And I had to deal with the militia, thank you very much, so there you go."

"What did they want?"

She looked away. "Tea."

Zuko snorted. He pulled off his boots and entered the room. Katara backed away. Zuko gave her an odd look and hung his cloak on a hook. Katara hugged her arms. "Where did you go?"

Zuko held up the sack. "Food." He reached inside and pulled out steaming packets of something that smelled spicy. They came wrapped in broad green leaves tied with twine. He held one out. "You were asleep…"

Her embarrassment knew no bounds. She took the little package. It was still warm. "Thank you." She bit her lip. "You really didn't have to buy me dinner…"

Zuko stiffened. He looked out the window. "I wasn't buying you dinner, I was buying us dinner."

"Right. Us."

"And I'm not going to just leave you." He turned to her. "I know you think I'm no good, but if this is going to work you have to trust me."

"I know. I'm sorry." She tried for a smile. "There. I almost never say it. Are you happy?"

Zuko opened his mouth to say something when an explosion interrupted him. His good eye popped open and he waved one hand; the lamps immediately snuffed out. "Get down!" They both went flat to the floor. "Don't move," he said. Katara watched him elbow-crawl to the window. He looked a bit like those stealthy little pygmy pumas in Ba Sing Se. Very slowly, he raised himself to the window as another explosion sounded. To her bewilderment, he sighed and stood up. "It's nothing to worry about."

"Oh, just a few bombs going off," Katara said, rolling her eyes. "What's going on?"

"A wedding." He turned away and re-lit the lamps. Frowning, Katara stood up and brushed herself off. She went to the window. Out on the street, she saw a slow procession of brightly-dressed, soaked people cowering under umbrellas. One of them, a man, sat on a palanquin. It rocked dangerously from side to side as the carriers labored to slog through the mud. Her fingers curled around the grate and she tried to get a better look. One of the procession bent fire into a little stick of firecrackers -- they fizzled out miserably in the rain. The others around him tried to make up for the lack of noise by clashing their cymbals and banging their drums.

"How come there's a parade?"

Zuko moved to stand beside her. He peeled a yuzu with his knife. "It's tradition," he said. "The groom goes to the bride's house and brings her back to his."

"So that's the groom in there?" She pointed.

Zuko nodded. "That's him." He left yuzu peel on the windowsill. Her mouth watered at the clean, tart smell. Zuko pointed with his knife as the procession pulled up to the Chimneystack. "He must be marrying the bathhouse master's daughter."

Katara grinned. "I bet they've known each other since they were really little and they were childhood sweethearts and everything."

Zuko rubbed the back of his neck. He seemed distinctly uncomfortable. "I suppose that's possible…"

"Sad that it has to be raining, though," Katara said. "Her dress will get ruined."

"Rain is lucky for weddings," Zuko said. "It means a big number of…crops."

Katara scowled. "Are you sure you don't mean babies?"

He colored. "Maybe…"

"I delivered a baby, once. Sokka came in and saw everything and fainted." She smiled. How was it possible for her to miss Sokka already? "What a wuss." The groom was exiting his palanquin. She hopped up to try and see better.

"Here," Zuko said. He pulled a cord and the grate opened; he reached out and propped it. "Just don't lean too far."

"I know, I know." Katara folded her arms and leaned forward. She noticed other people in the neighborhood doing the same. As she watched, the groom made his way under several umbrellas to the front door of the Chimneystack. Someone opened it. In the rain, she caught only fragments of the conversation. The groom seemed to be asking questions, but being refused. "What's happening?"

"He's asking for the bride, and her family is saying no." Zuko popped a yuzu slice into his mouth.

Katara whirled. "There's not going to be a wedding?"

He swallowed. "No. It's just tradition. He still has to give them some extra money. Then they'll let her go."

Her eyebrows rose. "He pays for the bride?"

Zuko shrugged. "Well, around here…" He straightened up when her glare didn't falter. "It's not real money. It's special wedding money. Each coin is a different favor the groom promises to do for the bride's family."

"Oh." Katara nodded. "That doesn't sound so bad." She stood on tiptoe and watched the conversation unfold. Down below, the groom's party waited under their bright umbrellas. Something in the doorway shifted, and Katara saw a woman in a red and gold tunic step out. She wore a large headdress with two dragons entwined on it, one red, one blue. "Is that the bride?"

"That's her."

The groom's party clanged their cymbals. More firecrackers were lit; this time one of them actually went off and sent a shower of pink sparks skittering across the street. The other viewers in their apartments cheered. Something shiny fell from the windows; the others in the wedding party scattered to pick it up. "What are they throwing?"

"Money," Zuko said. "It's good luck."

"Oh, we should throw some!"

"What? Are you serious?"

"We have to! We'll be bad neighbors if we don't!"

"But we don't even live here!"

"Don't be stingy! If you don't do this now, your own wedding will go horribly wrong!" Katara's hand dove into the pocket of his tunic. She fished for coins and found some.

"Hey! Stop! That's mine!" He pointed. "She's leaving."

Diverted, Katara leaned out the window again. The bride stared up at the rain and winced. Grinning, Katara lifted one knee to the windowsill and leaned out still further. She brought her arms up in a bending posture; the rain parted like curtains and the wedding party slowly dropped their umbrellas. They opened their hands and felt no rain. The bride beamed. The groom stepped forward and lifted her in his arms; he carried her through Katara's rainless corridor under a hail of money, cheering, and fireworks toward his palanquin. Katara tried to make her bending stretch to follow them as the palanquin resumed its travels down the road. She reached, felt herself waver, sensed her knee slipping-

-and felt Zuko's arms circle her from behind. "I told you not to lean too far."

His breath on her neck gave her a tickle way at the bottom of her spine; she remembered a similar moment: the tree, the necklace, his voice. She shivered. "I don't take orders from you."

"Will you take this instead?" He dropped something in her palm. Copper pieces. "It's all we can spare. Hurry and throw it before they're all gone."

Katara nodded, leaned out -- his arms seemed to get tighter and she heard him stop breathing -- and threw the money with all her might. The coins promptly hit one of the wedding party square in the skull; he looked up at the window with a murderous glare. Katara's hands flew up. "Sorry!"

Zuko pulled her backward. "Okay, you've done enough damage."

"I just wanted to be nice!"

"I know. Let's eat." He set her down. She felt a little chilly without him there behind her. She moved to the sack and began pulling out leaf-wrapped packets. "What did you get?"

"A little of everything," he said. He sat. "There's, um, soup dumplings and coconut riceballs and dragon-heart salad…"

"Wow." Katara sat down. "You got a lot. Good work." She pointed to an unwrapped package. "What's that big one?"

Zuko gave his strange smile and cut the package with his dagger. The leaves unfolded to reveal a whole fried fish. "Ooh…" Katara rubbed her hands together. "This looks so good!"

"Is it enough?"

"Of course it's enough; don't be silly. Let me get bowls." She breezed into her bedroom and retrieved a mess kit. She handed one set of bowl and chopsticks to Zuko. He nodded toward his bag. "I have my own…"

"Yes, but I didn't know that when I was packing, did I?" Katara armed herself with chopsticks. "Which do I eat first...?"

"The fish," Zuko said, and dove in. They attacked the fish together. Their chopsticks made short work of the crispy skin and white flesh. Katara had it in her mouth and down her throat before the spice took over and a dry tang of warm heat snaked up from her esophagus to her tongue.

"Hot! Hot!" She waved her hand in front of her mouth. The heat only increased. She tried inhaling and exhaling quickly as her eyes watered. "My lips hurt-"

"Eat some rice!"

She grabbed. The sticky coconut provided a welcome respite from the spicy fish; the heat calmed and receded as she chewed. Her lips still stung. Katara examined her wedge-shaped rice ball. There were different kinds of rice in there; she saw purple grains and red grains and white ones. Someone had rolled the whole thing in black and white sesame seeds. Is this all I'm going to be able to eat while I'm here? Carefully, she pried another wedge of fish free. This time she separated the flesh from the skin, where all the spice seemed to be. It was firm and flaky and delicious -- the way fish was meant to be.

"You know," Katara said as she swallowed, "I like dinner a lot more when I'm not making it."

"Me too," Zuko said.

Her mouth fell open. "You don't like my cooking?"

"I didn't say that! I just like Fire Nation food better-"

"Well excuse me for not learning about Fire Nation cuisine at the South Pole!" She gestured with her chopsticks. "And for the record, your tea is terrible, so you have no right to complain."

"It's hot leaf juice!"

"Yeah, when you make it!" She picked up a dumpling and bit into it angrily. Hot, sour-smelling soup promptly squirted all over her chin. It trickled down her neck and into her dress. A laugh pushed past Zuko's lips; he pointed. She had really only heard him really laugh once, before, and this time it still had that odd ring of triumph.

He was on the floor, now. His whole body shook. "Your face…"

Katara swallowed. "You said soup dumpling, not soup-filled dumpling."

"A shrimp dumpling isn't called a shrimp-filled dumpling."

Katara's eyebrow twitched. "I thought you meant a dumpling that goes with soup."

Zuko gestured. "Do you see soup, here?" He produced a kerchief. "Here, wipe it off. It's all over you."

Katara dabbed her face. "This is all your fault."

"I didn't make it explode!" He pointed. "It's, um, in your hair."

She rolled her eyes and tried to bend the soup free of the strands. It didn't turn out so well. She could still smell the sour, salty goo on her skin. "Great, now I have to wash my hair…" She stood and crossed to the window. Spying a gutter, she quickly diverted rainwater from there and into a little ball that she bent around her head. She coiled it around her hair, pulled the whole mess up and wrung it out with bending, let the water fall to the street below. Now she was refreshingly damp and clean. And Zuko was staring.

"Is something wrong?"

"No." He blinked. "Do you want your dragon-heart?"

"My what?"

"Your salad." He held up half of a small red fruit. It had been scooped empty and packed with leafy greens and chunks of red flesh.

"Well I want to at least try it." Katara crossed back to him and took the odd little salad. She smelled it and used her chopsticks to pluck out one of the fruit pieces. "Is this going to be spicy?"

"It's fruit."

Carefully, Katara bit down. Juice pooled in her mouth and her eyes fluttered closed. It had a taste like liquid springtime -- fresh and sharp and sweet. At last, Fire Nation food she could actually enjoy. "Finally…"

A knock sounded at the door. Zuko stood and peered through the little window in the door with his good eye. Nodding, he allowed Rari in. The old man clapped his hands together. "Well, it looks like you're all settled. I was just at the bathhouse across the way, helping the bride's family with some tea -- the poor thing was terribly nervous, and her mother…" His hands made a dismissive motion. "When you're ready, please come down so I can introduce you to the kitchen."

"Okay," Katara said. "We'll be right down."

"Oh, don't worry, please take your time." He disappeared.

Zuko watched him go. "It's our first day on the job; maybe we should go down now."

"Probably," Katara said. "But I really, really like dragon-hearts."


Katara's job sounded easy. Listen to orders. Write orders down. Give them to Zuko. Deliver orders. Leave the money to Rari -- she knew nothing about Fire Nation money. "Are you sure he should be in charge of the tea?" Katara asked. "He's um, kind of-"

"Oh, have no fear," Rari said. "His uncle warned me. And I have set up a rather elegant countermeasure, if I do say so myself." He pointed above the teapots to a series of hourglasses of varying size. "The tea is allowed to steep only for as long as it takes for the corresponding hourglass to empty. Just don't mix up the pots, and everything should be fine." He turned to Zuko. "Think you can manage?"

Zuko's lips twitched. "I'll do my best."

The air filled with a shrill whistling. It hummed inside Katara's ears and she clapped her hands over them. "The day shift is over!" Rari said. "Time to open!" He pulled down some folded cloth and handed it to Katara. "Your uniform, my dear."

Katara frowned. "Uniform?"

"Yes. Zuko doesn't need one as he'll be safely stashed away back here, but I think you should have one. My last waitress did and I like to preserve some tradition." Rari plucked his own mauve robes. "See? I've got mine!"

"Okay…" Katara looked at the fabric. "I'll just be upstairs…"

Upstairs, Katara found the Blue Sparrowkeet uniform more than a little intimidating. It featured a pair of dark cropped pants that ended above the knee and left nothing to the imagination and an overskirt -- it was more of a veil, actually -- that tied on one side. A top in the same shade and fabric came with it. It tied behind her neck. When finished, she stared at herself in the mirror -- her other dress had definitely exposed less stomach, less leg, and less, well, everything else. If her dad had problems with her bending in her underwear, she bet he would have serious problems with her going out in public looking like this. Then again, her dad had worn a Fire Navy uniform as part of the war effort -- wasn't this just the same?

Huffing, she adjusted her hair and left the apartment, started down the stairs. Zuko stood at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed, staring at nothing in particular. Then her footsteps creaked on one finicky stair and he turned and something in his eyes changed, something in his mouth softened. He looked like the first time she'd knocked him to his knees at the Western Air Temple.

"Is that your uniform?" he asked.

"Yeah…" She plucked at it. "I think it would be better for the beach than work, though."

Zuko's expression hardened, then he gave an odd smile. "Would you please excuse me?"

"Uh… Sure…"

He turned and Katara saw him make his way toward the kitchen. He disappeared through fabric panels that coasted in the breeze. She frowned after him. A moment later, she heard a distinct thump against the wall and the sound of crashing dishes. Then silence. Finally Zuko emerged carrying something that looked suspiciously white and tent-like. "Look what I found," he said. "It's an apron."

"I know what it is," she said. She hooked it over her head and started tying it behind her back.

"Do you need help?"

She blew air past her teeth. "Please. No." She turned around. "See? My knots are fine."

"Yes. Yes they are. They're very…" Katara made a half-turn and waited for him to finish his sentence. "Tight," he said. He mimed pulling strings taut. "They're very tight knots."

Rari cleared his throat. Katara hopped down from the stairs and followed him out onto the lanai. "Now that you're sufficiently wrapped up," the old man said, "let's start our night." And with that he blew fire in the red lantern that hung beneath the sign, and the Blue Sparrowkeet was open for business.


Waiting tables was not as easy as it had sounded. The third time some tarted-up woman insisted on almond milk, not soy milk, Katara began fantasizing about slowly choking the life out of General Iroh. It would be fit punishment for putting her here in the Oyster District. Why couldn't they have just broken into the palace like normal thieves? So what if they got caught? Prison had to be better than sucking up to women who wore too much makeup and men with coal dust under their fingernails who kept on asking Katara if she wanted to go pearl-diving.

"Um, I'm at work right now," she said, for the fourth time.

"But think about all the money you could make selling pearls," the customer said. He nudged his date. "Go on, tell her."

The woman's heavily-plucked eyebrows rose. "Well, that's depends," she said in a purring voice. "How long can she hold her breath?"

"Um, I'll be right back," Katara said, and backed away. Being in the Fire Nation felt like one long ice-dodging ritual -- you had to keep moving, otherwise something might pop up and rip you open. She collected empty cups and plates from a nearby table and took them to a sink in the back. They were mounting; she would have a lot of bending to do later. Zuko stood watching the hourglasses like a pensive owl-cat, his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed.

"How are you doing?" His eyes refused to budge when he spoke.

"I'm fine, thank you."

"Have you seen any Dai Li?"

She shook her head. "No, just a bunch of people asking me to go pearling."

Zuko's gaze swung down from the hourglasses. One of the teapots began to whistle. "Who? Where?"

Katara shrugged. "Just customers," she said. "Is pearl-diving really popular here? Is that why it's called the Oyster District?" A second teapot whistled for attention. They rattled on their little trivets. Water bubbled up around their lids. She pointed. "Shouldn't you get those?"

He blinked. "Uh, yes. Right. I should." He didn't move.

"Well, I'll just be going…" Again, she had the urge to back away slowly. She ducked under the fabric panels separating the kitchen from the tearoom just in time to hear the teapots' insistent, full-blown shriek and Zuko's muffled cursing. Suppressing a snicker, Katara headed deeper into the tearoom. Two new customers sat waiting. They were boys about Zuko's age, and together they filled in the whole doorframe. The meatier one wore his hair back and his eyes lit up when she stepped forward. His friend, a little skinnier but with a lot more hair, simply blew his bangs aside with a puff of breath.

"We'd like some tea," the boy with the topknot said.

"Then you're in luck," Katara said. She pointed to a table. "Please have a seat."

The two boys took their sweet time sauntering over and made a big show of settling into their chairs like they'd just done a hard day's work. (They clearly hadn't; Katara knew soft hands when she saw them.) "What are your specials?" the one with the topknot asked.

Katara rattled them off. "Tonight we have a very delicate white tea with whole moonpeach blossoms, and a spicy black tea with dried spark-seed and sweet almond milk."

They blinked at her. Had she said something wrong? She frowned at them. They frowned at her. She gestured to a large scroll hanging from one wall. "Those are in addition to our usual offerings, of course."

The bored-looking one with the shaggy hair said "Just ginger," in a dispassionate voice. "My stomach is killing me."

Katara nodded. "Excellent choice." She turned to the other one. "And for you?"

He smirked. "Why don't you help me decide on your next break?"

Her eyebrow twitched. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. I want you to come and sit with me."

Katara dug her fingernails into the tray she carried. "I'm sorry, but fraternizing with the customers isn't allowed. I'll give you-"

"How come it's not allowed?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Because I said so, that's how come."

Her customer snorted. "Look, spitfire, I don't know who you think you are, but we're Chan and Ruon-Jian. We're some of the most important-"

"Is there a problem, gentlemen?"

Zuko had appeared on soundless feet; Katara flinched and glanced backward. He twisted a towel between his hands. Looping it over both palms, he pulled it taut. The boys froze. The one with the topknot looked as though he might cry. "Y… You're…"

"I think I'm gonna be sick," his friend said.

"Then I guess you'd better leave," Zuko said. Nodding emphatically, the boys stood. Their chairs squeaked across the floorboards and tumbled backward as they pushed out the door, momentarily crowding it before finally bursting free. Through the window, Katara saw them dash into the bathhouse across the street.

"Do they know you or something?" Katara asked.

"Yes."

Katara smiled. "You have a rare and special talent for making people angry, don't you?"

"They weren't angry." He flipped the towel over his shoulder. "They were terrified."


Finally -- and she had no idea how this happened -- the night ended. The customers seemed to take note of the color of the sky and begin drifting away slowly. Gradually, the crowd thinned to the young and drunk, fuelling up for the walk home with their final cup of tea. Katara had to tiptoe around one lingering, snoring drunk to collect teacups before Rari finally ushered him out. Then Rari dimmed the red lantern and officially closed the place. "I'll sweep up in here," the old man said. "You take care of those dishes."

Nodding wearily, Katara sighed and headed for the kitchen. Zuko was wiping down counters. She stared at the mountain of dishes for a moment, knew a moment of genuine despair, and then sighed. I'll bet they're asleep at the Western Air Temple, right now. I'll bet no one has done the dishes. What did they eat? Sokka probably insisted on meat, and didn't even think of what Aang might need. Hanging her head, she re-examined the dishes and opened the taps. Water thudded into the sink. "Could you heat this up for me?"

"What?"

"The dishwater. It needs to be warm, or the tealeaves will stick on."

"Oh. Right." Zuko moved over to the sink, grimaced, and stuck his hand in the water. Soon it was steaming. "Is that hot enough?"

Katara tested it with her elbow. "That's fine, thanks." She tipped a bar of soap into the sink, and bent water up around it. Squinting, she sculpted a hand of water around the bar of soap and lathered it. Then she bent the soapy water into and around the cups. Zuko leaned against the wall, staring. "You could help me, you know," she said. "The sooner we finish up here, the sooner we can go to bed."

"Uh…"

"You know? Sleep? Blankets? Ringing any bells?" She turned around. "Are you okay? You look flushed."

"It's the, um, steam."

"Well you're not allowed to get sick, so don't even think about it. I need you fired up and ready to go."

He heaved a long-suffering sigh. "That won't be a problem."

"You two seem to be doing well," Rari said. He ducked under the fabric panels separating the kitchen and tearoom. He held out a tray with two dishes. "I was saving these for you. It was a long first night, but you still did very well."

Katara stood and wiped her hands on her apron. "Thank you, but I'm not finished with these yet-"

"Oh, no, that's quite all right. Drying this particular variety of porcelain requires a light touch, otherwise the glaze cracks." He held out the tray. "Please, go outside. The air out there is much cooler."

"Good," Zuko said, and grabbed the tray. "Thank you."

Katara rolled her eyes, untied her apron, hung it on a hook, and headed out the back door. Zuko sat on the lanai, shoes already off, tray abandoned. He was digging his toes in the grass when she sat beside him with the tray between. She hugged her knees. Her feet ached; even the thought of trudging up the stairs was painful. Squinting, she located a glowing bug and pointed at it. "Glowflies!"

"Fireflies."

"I'm tired of fire," Katara said. "Everything in the Fire Nation is fire this or fire that. Fire lilies, fire flakes, fire festivals. You people really need to get more creative."

"We have an ancient and beautiful culture. We're advanced."

"Spreading war is not advanced. It's wrong and it's wasteful. Your-"

"Stop." He turned so that she saw both halves of his face. "We're outside. Someone might hear you."

"And do what, report on me?"

"Yes." He lowered his voice. "And we're already in enough trouble because those guys recognized me. We might get reeled in sooner rather than later." He picked up one of the dishes. "Eat your custard."

Her frustration failed to melt away, but it did dull slightly, replaced by a dread she didn't want to voice. "There's custard in there?" She took it from him and opened the lid. "Why didn't you say so before?" She placed the lid on the tray and reached for a spoon. She dug in, and had the spoon halfway to her mouth when she noticed Zuko staring at her with abject revulsion. "What?"

"It's not finished, yet," he said. "You can't just eat it plain."

"Plain?"

Zuko picked up his dish and took the lid off. Inhaling, he proceeded to breathe fire over the creamy custard until it developed a golden crust. Katara smelled caramelizing sugar and spices. "Like that," he said. He tipped it a little to show her, then picked up his spoon. "Then you tap it, like this." He tapped the crust until it shattered. He spooned up some of the crust in with the custard in one bite. "You're supposed to get both parts."

"Oh, so it's creamy and crunchy!" Katara frowned. "That's not very fair to non-benders."

"They get someone else to do it for them," Zuko said, and nimbly grabbed the dish from her fingers. He breathed over it carefully. The smell of burning sugar filled the air between them. He held it out to her to show her the amber crust. "Is this dark enough?"

Katara made a show of thinking. "Hmmm… I'm not sure… I've never had it before…" She held up one finger. "Can you do one half darker than the other?"

"Half and half," Zuko said. He bent down and blew on the left side of the bowl, rotating it slightly with his wrist. When he finished, the custard's left side was a glossy brown. "There you go."

"Thank you." She tilted her head. Grinning, she used her spoon to pry some of the darker crust free and slip it onto the lighter half. She showed it to Zuko. "Guess what this is."

Zuko blinked and frowned at it. Then his expression relaxed and his whole posture eased. "The koi fish," he said.

"Good job," Katara said. She spooned up some of the custard and aimed it for her mouth. "There may be hope for you ye-mmmm."

His good eye widened. "Did you burn your tongue?"

Swallowing, she shook her head. She closed her eyes. Cinnamon and almond and rich, slippery sweetness coated her tongue. Little crunchy bits of warm, sticky sugar snapped between her teeth. "Mmm…"

"It's…good?"

"Mmm-hmm…" She sucked the last little bit of sugar off the spoon, then loaded another spoonful. It was still good the second time. "Wow…"

"Haven't you ever tried it before?"

"Not like this."

Zuko lay down on the lanai. "The Fire Nation does have some things worth saving."

"Maybe Fire Lord Sozin should have dropped custard, not bombs," Katara said.

"No, that's what your brother would do."

The laugh bolted away from her lips before she could stop it. She imagined Sokka standing aboard a Fire Nation war balloon with a big pot of sugar and eggs, heaving steaming bowlfuls of sweet goodness over the side. In her mind, he shouted Custard away! And Teo was there with him, and Aang flew beside them, dodging sticky-sweet bombs and steering Appa to catch them in his gaping mouth. And part of her wanted to keep on laughing, and the other part wanted to know why that silly future couldn't be theirs, why it couldn't just be the world's largest pie-throwing contest and not the fight of their lives, not a struggle to save her Gran-Gran's house and her hometown glaciers and her very civilization.

"Hey," Zuko said. "You don't have to cry. It wasn't that funny."

She wiped her eyes. "You're right, it wasn't." She took another spoonful. "But this still tastes really good." Her lips clamped over the spoon. She stared out at the garden and the fireflies. She heard the clatter of dishes in other households, watched lamps and lanterns slowly fade into shadow as the rest of the district went to sleep. In a little while, Iroh would wake Aang for training. And while they practiced and while her dad and Sokka planned and while Toph doubtless teased Suki about something or another, she and Zuko would be asleep. That's how how much their lives had changed in just a little while. She dug into the custard. And she smiled a little when, silently, Zuko placed his dish beside her to finish.


Note: Many of you guessed that the Oyster District is roughly equivalent to the Fire capitol's "red light district." You guessed correctly. In the Oyster District, when a man asks a woman if she is interested in pearl-diving , neither party is interested in either shellfish or jewelry.