Chapter Six:
Making his first appearance of the day on the bridge, Prince Zuko stared blearily out of the eastern facing window of his northward bound ship. His men were quiet; they had learned from experience not to disturb the teen before the sun had risen a minimum of two hands breadths from the horizon.
Like all fire benders, Zuko's powers rose with the sun; the Prince himself would have preferred to sleep in a little. But, with the importance of his quest and all that was riding on it, he had adopted an early morning wake-up regimen. It worked fine, so long as no one talked to him for the first hour or so.
Suddenly, his gaze jerked skyward as a rapid tapping sound echoed down from the ceiling of the bridge. Footsteps?
Oblivious to the lack of reaction on the part of his men, he lurched to the window just in time to see a brown and tan blur vaulting over the railing that surrounded the small upper deck. A rope tied to the rail wiggled and vibrated as the figure rapidly repelled down the control tower of his ship. Upon reaching the deck, his 'guest' sprinted full speed to the point of the bow, hurtling over a variety of storage boxes on her way. At the very tip of the ship she whirled and reversed direction at a sprint, disappearing down the mid-ship hatch into the hold, and leaving one very flabbergasted Prince to stare at the box-strewn shambles that had once been his pristine deck.
"What? What is she doing?" he sputtered, gesturing angrily towards the makeshift, unauthorized obstacle course.
Iroh, who was a true dawn riser, blew the steam off his second cup of morning tea. "Exercising, I believe," he stated calmly.
"At this hour? And who told her she could do that to my ship?"
"Since the sky was light enough to see by, actually." Iroh's matter-of-fact tone couldn't hide a subtle trace of humor; his golden eyes sparkled as he spoke. "And you gave her permission, when you agreed to Headmaster Zorin's terms that Shiori's training not be interfered with."
As usual, Zuko's irritation was sparked to higher levels by his uncle's inexplicable ability to find humor in the oddest of situations. "She's an archer. I thought 'training' meant shooting arrows." His voice turned bitter. "Besides, isn't she a child prodigy or something? I'm surprised she even has to practice."
"I believe the shooting of arrows comes later, Prince Zuko." Iroh's head canted slightly to the side. "And the yu-yan aren't merely 'archers'. They are the world's best archers. Simetra Island's training program is one of the harshest a Fire Nation youth can endure. The few who graduate must prove themselves not only as archers, but as physically elite hunters that can track down any prey. Isn't that why you wanted one?"
The retired General gracefully gestured towards the stern of the ship with his cup of tea. Zuko glanced out of the small round porthole to find Shiori had emerged from the ship's bowels, and was now scaling the tower with the aid of another thin rope.
"I think her dedication is admirable," Iroh stated simply.
The Prince could feel his expression hardening and kept his back to his uncle. Shiori was just like her. It wasn't good enough for her to be born talented; she had to show off by practicing harder than everyone else too. He felt the familiar sentiments of resentment and anger beginning to swell within him. Just what he needed in his life, another Azula.
"Make her stop," he ordered to no one in particular. "And have her clean up her mess before reporting to me."
"Prince Zuko," Iroh's voice had adopted the firm tone he used only when his nephew was unacceptably out of line. "A man of honor keeps his word. You should not interfere with Shiori's training."
"Unless I need her for my quest. Make her stop and have her report to me, Uncle. It's time she learns who she's up against."
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You've got to be kidding, right? Shiori stared at the wanted poster Prince Zuko had handed her, as the older teen paced restlessly back and forth in his small chamber. The image on the scroll was that of a young boy. His head was clean shaven, his limbs decorated in twisted arrows and he was dressed in the garb of a monk. In other words, he looked completely innocuous. Belying his image, the words on the scroll proclaimed the boy to be none other than the Avatar, a master air bender whose very existence threatened everything three generations of Fire Lords had struggled to achieve.
Shiori couldn't believe it. The Avatar? But no one had seen him in a hundred years. In fact, she had been taught that the cycle had ended with Avatar Roku, back in Fire Lord Sozen's time. And why was he just a boy? Confused, she shifted her gaze to Zuko.
"Don't be fooled by his appearance," the Prince ordered. "And don't underestimate him. He really is a master air bender. That will make your job all the more difficult."
Do you want me to…kill him? Despite her best efforts to the contrary, Shiori felt her facial expression shifting to one of disapproval. Sure, she was an accomplished hunter; survival training was an integral part of learning to be a yu-yan. But she had never been asked to kill a person before. And this… this was a child.
"I need to capture him alive. Only then can I return home…" the boy's voice trailed off as he stared at the Fire Nation insignia hanging from his wall.
With the Prince's back to her, Shiori allowed herself to feel a surprising amount of relief at his declaration. Then she frowned down at the floor. Thus far, her only consideration had been to graduate from the difficult Simetra Island training program. Afterwards, she would be reunited with Keisuke. She hadn't given a single thought on what her life as a yu-yan would actually be like.
"We are weapons, Shiori… we don't care who we are pointed at or why…" Master Zorin's voice rang through her memories.
I suppose I'll be expected to kill… a lot.
A flash of green and tan. Exhausted, tear-filled eyes pleading with her as shaking hands rose slowly over his head. The feeling of confusion as the pleasurable spike of triumph became polluted with pity.
Shiori shook her head slightly, shaking her memories away. Well, it doesn't really matter. It's just another target. I can be a weapon. Besides, any old archer can kill. The yu-yan are special because they can deliberately not kill.
Slightly reassured, she looked up just in time to see Zuko recovering from his own reverie. She could look him in his eyes now without her gaze drifting, although his scar was still one of the most horrible things she had ever seen.
"The scroll mentions that he travels with two teenagers from the Southern Water Tribe, a boy and a girl. The boy is a fool…" Zuko's one good brow furrowed down as he chose his words with care. "But don't underestimate him. He can be an… unpredictable factor in a fight. The girl is a water bender. She isn't trained, but she can be troublesome. The Avatar has picked up some water bending too, although he still relies mainly on air."
Zuko clasped his hands behind his back and resumed pacing. He had come so close to capturing Aang so many times, only to be thwarted by the two peasants he traveled with. And the bison! Stupid flying hairball. He was the reason Zuko always had to play catch up with the Avatar. It was unbelievably frustrating. And now, thanks to his stint as the Blue Spirit, he knew Zhao was close too. Beyond close, as Zhao had actually accomplished his goal, until Zuko had, out of necessity, interfered.
He glanced down at the kneeling archer. Her brown eyes flickered between him and the wanted poster, so he knew she was paying attention, even if she had thus far remained silent on the subject. Would she really be enough to make a difference? One single trainee verses how ever many full-fledged yu-yan Zhao had under his command, not to mention his multitudes of ships and legions of men…
Zuko scowled, not liking the defeatist turn to his thoughts. Frustration welling up, he turned to fully face the kneeling girl. It wasn't as if it was the weather he was discussing; it was his entire future! Why was she so quiet? Couldn't the so-called 'elite' archer show a little interest?
"Well?" he demanded.
The girl mutely raised an eyebrow at him.
"Say something!"
Shiori blinked up at the Prince. Say what? Her mouth opened, then snapped shot. Her entire expression turned hostile as she matched glares with the irritable heir. This was a trap if she had ever seen one. To remain silent was disobeying, a direct violation of her orders. However, speaking without being directly queried was dangerous as well. Shiori was well aware of the fact that her impulsive rebuttals were the very reason she was stuck serving Zuko.
You're trying to trick me, to make me fail. Even Shi-Yun wouldn't sink this low. He may be strict, but he's never unfair.
Their glaring match was interrupted by a gentle call from the door. "Is everything all right in there? I heard yelling."
Not waiting for a response, the retired General's grey head poked into the room. His rotund body followed, arms laden with two trays containing a variety of steaming hot foods. "I brought breakfast. A man needs proper nourishment to start the day off right. Young ladies too." The elder man chuckled to himself, then fell silent as the thick tension in the room failed to dissipate.
"What seems to be the trouble, Prince Zuko?"
"She's not taking this seriously!" Zuko jabbed an accusatory finger at the kneeling girl, whose eyes first widened, then narrowed into slits at this unfair assessment. Her mouth fell open, an involuntary sound escaping before she managed to clamp it shut again. Lips thinned and turned white under the pressure.
No. I won't fall for this trap. I won't, I won't, I won't!
I know you're not mute. Capturing the Avatar is my destiny. This mission will restore my rightful place on the throne. Why don't you have something to say?" The Prince emphasized his words with an abrupt sideways gesture. Fire trailed after his clenched fist and he noted with satisfaction that the high and mighty yu-yan want-to-be flinched away from it.
"Ah, Prince Zuko, I think I can explain." Iroh literally interjected himself between the teens, still balancing the trays of food. "Yu-yan trainees are forbidden to speak unless they are asked a specific question by their instructors. She isn't ignoring you so much as adhering to her role as an apprentice. Isn't that right, Shiori?"
"Yes," the soft, slightly raspy answer rose from the floor. Her eyes, however, were anything but soft as she stared at Zuko's hands. She was watching for more fire bending, he realized, her own hands clenched into tight fists on her knees. Suddenly he was grateful that the girl wasn't in possession of her weapon.
"There; you see? This is just a misunderstanding." Iroh spoke in a soothing tone. "Why don't we sit down and enjoy our food, Prince Zuko."
Not waiting for a response, the older man began setting down his trays on Zuko's sole table. Zuko sighed, his irrational anger dissipating. There were times he believed that his uncle, left to his own devices, would solve all of the world's problems with food and tea. His mentor's golden eyes gave him a pointed look, and then glanced deliberately between the food and the still kneeling archer. What he wanted was obvious and it was a good solution. Princes did not apologize to peasants.
"Join us for breakfast," he said, the words coming out a lot harsher than he intended. "Please," he added, earning a look of approval from his uncle.
The brown-haired girl silently rose to her feet. Giving Zuko a wide berth, she settled back down at the table. Zuko followed suit, feeling an un-princely amount of embarrassment over his demonstrative behavior. It had given him pleasure, when she had flinched away from his fire bending; now that emotion turned quickly into a dissatisfying feeling of shame.
Uncle should have told me sooner, he thought crossly as he joined the other two at the table. Oddly enough, now that he knew how to illicit a response from the girl, he found that he wanted to do nothing of the sort. Instead, he discussed potential destinations with his uncle, and fell into the comfortable routine of bickering about portion sizes and the appropriate divvying up of food between them. The girl, he ignored, although he made sure she received her fair share of the food.
For her part, the yu-yan trainee remained silent and kept her eyes cast downward, a picture-perfect subordinate. A few times, however, he caught a glimpse of them raised, and he imagined that he saw something dancing behind the red-brown orbs. Something that made him glad that she was unable to speak without his permission.
