Title: The Taming of the Shrew
Author: setlib
Rating: T-rated for language and sexual content
Setting: Alternate Universe – modern high school, no bending
Pairings: Zuko x Katara
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to any characters from Avatar: The Last Airbender.
Summary: Zuko and Katara are seniors in high school. He teases her, then ignores her. She despises him. But when Zuko's father kicks him out of the house and he has to move in with his hippie Uncle Iroh, he begins to see Katara in a new light. But as the bard warned, "the course of true love never did run smooth."
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The Taming of the Shrew, Chapter 8: Pathos
After my encounter with Katara in the library, I needed the mental clarity of running more than ever. I got to cross country practice early that afternoon and started warming up right away. I was down on the grass, stretching my legs, when an annoying voice chirped above my head.
"Why couldn't the Buddhist vacuum the sofa?"
I looked up to find Aang standing over me with a wide grin. "Huh?"
"Because he didn't have any attachments!" Chuckling, the boy sat down on the grass and began stretching next to me. "That's a good one, isn't it?"
I ignored him, but of course that didn't discourage him.
"Hey, I noticed you and Katara had quite a debate in English this morning."
I stood and walked away, stretching out my arms and shoulders, but he followed me.
"I think Katara's really great. She's been showing me around school, helping me find my classes and everything. She's really pretty, too. Really pretty. But I think maybe you should try being a little nicer to her. She'd probably like it if you were a little more friendly."
I couldn't believe this. I was getting advice on women from a boy monk? And he'd been hanging out with Katara? Not that it was any of my business. I didn't care who she hung out with. Did I?
"Remember: A little kindness goes a long way."
I snorted. "Who said that? Buddha?"
"No," he replied earnestly. "Depeche Mode."
Coach Rodriguez blew his whistle and I jogged to the track, shaking my head. Aang was seriously annoying.
"Since four miles was so easy for you guys yesterday, I've got good news. Today you're running eight miles!" I heard some groans from the team, but I smiled. The longer the better. I wanted to run until I was too exhausted to think anymore.
Unfortunately Aang started out a little ahead of me. I tried to pass him, get him out of my sight, but no matter how I picked up my pace he always stayed frustratingly out of reach. It began to feel like I was chasing him, around and around, getting close at times but never actually able to catch him.
Less than an hour later when I finished, covered in sweat and breathing hard, Coach came up to me. "Great job, Zuko! Another personal best. Keep it up!"
But the words rang hollow. I might have beat my previous score, but I didn't beat Aang. I had pushed myself to my limit, but he'd been quicker and had finished just ahead of me. As the team surrounded Aang, congratulating him on his win, I stalked to the parking lot and slid into my Mercedes-Benz SL Night Edition, punching on the radio to a loud metal station that reflected my mood. I was really starting to hate that kid.
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A little while later, I pulled onto the grounds of our estate. The vineyard, Father's newest hobby, stretched out over 1500 acres and produced several labels of high-end wine. Our house had once belonged to a 1980's British rock star who, after decades of problems with drugs and failed marriages, had been forced to put the estate up for sale to pay off his creditors. Father picked it up for a cool $35 million, which wasn't bad considering it was 12,000 square feet with two pools (one indoor, one outdoor), a home gym, and a two-story library.
I cruised by the fountain in the large driveway, past the former stables which had been converted into a wine-tasting room and boutique storefront for tourists, and into the 6-car garage behind the house. Azula's red Porsche Cabriolet was already there, as I expected, but I was surprised to see Father's Bentley as well. It was unusual for him to be home this early.
I grabbed my bags and climbed up the stairs from the garage to the main part of the house. Father was in his office, talking to Zhao about something. Zhao had worked for my father for over ten years and I still wasn't completely sure what his job was. He didn't have a title, he just took care of anything and everything my father needed, including serving as secretary, driver, manager, bodyguard, vintner, and whatever else the situation called for. Lately I had found it increasingly difficult to get past Zhao to even speak to my father. With his perpetual frown, crooked nose, and steroid-enhanced biceps, he guaranteed there were no unwanted interruptions, even from me. I was surprised when Father saw me and waved me into his office to speak with him.
"I understand congratulations are in order." Father leaned back in his chair and smiled, his teeth a bright white, his face handsome as a movie star, his suit fitting with a subtle elegance only a great deal money could buy.
I nodded to Zhao and then turned to Father. I knew better than to show any confusion at his question, even though he had probably left it vague on purpose to keep me off guard.
After a few moments of silence, he spoke again. "I just got off the phone with Coach Rodriguez. He tells me you made your personal best today. That's great news. Are you proud of yourself?"
I allowed myself to relax a little and smile back. "Yes, sir."
"I was thinking we could celebrate this weekend. How about a round of golf at the club Saturday morning?"
"That would be great."
Father stood and came around the edge of his desk. He approached my side, Zhao at my back, and I began to suspect I had relaxed prematurely. His hand came up to clasp my shoulder in a gesture that might have seemed warm and paternal to an observer, but I could feel the steely tension in his grip as his thumb dug painfully into my collarbone.
"Coach also mentioned that someone else beat your score." His charming smile was still in place, but it contained a cold fury I knew only too well. "A new student. Younger than you!" He looked up at Zhao and laughed. "First my son can't manage to make Team Captain in his senior year, and now he's getting humiliated by some kid!" He turned his black gaze back to me, and my mouth turned dry. "Can you explain this to me, Zuko?"
I knew better than to offer excuses. "I'll beat him next time, sir."
He nodded, his grip on my shoulder tightening. "Yes. Yes, you will." He let go of me and strolled over to the window, looking out onto the gently sloping vineyards. "First, you're going to increase your strength training to one hour every night. Then, you're going to run 5k every morning, in addition to your cross country practices in the afternoon."
Protests clogged my throat, but I swallowed them back. "Yes, sir."
He turned back to look at me. "You're not going to lose again, are you?"
"No, sir."
He nodded, satisfied for the moment. That was my cue for dismissal. I exited the room quietly and bolted up to my bedroom, wanting to throw something, to slam my fist into the wall. Running had been my one escape, the one place where no one could tell me what to do, but now Father had reached his claws into that part of my life as well. I was already tired from practice, and after another hour of weight lifting tonight, I would need to cover my legs with ice packs to keep from cramping up. I walked to my desk and started yanking books out of my backpack, wondering when I was going to find time for homework in between all the training he demanded.
I heard my door open and knew without turning around that only one person would be brazen enough to disturb me.
"Go away, Azula."
"Poor Zuzu. Father is not pleased. What did you screw up this time?"
"Not being an only child."
She laughed and walked over to stand behind me. She reached over my shoulder and grabbed my copy of The Taming of the Shrew off my desk. "Too bad you couldn't get out of this stupid Shakespeare class. Is it terribly boring?"
I thought about it for a moment, then answered her honestly. "It's not boring at all. In fact, I think it's my favorite class."
"Really? I'm sure Mai will be interested to know that your favorite class is one without her in it." Apparently satisfied now that she had found some new ammunition to use against me, Azula tossed the book onto my desk and walked back to the door. "Oh, by the way, Father wanted me to give you a message."
She paused, and I knew she was just waiting so she could more thoroughly enjoy gloating over me. I finally turned around and looked at her. "What is it?"
"Win tomorrow, or don't come home." Azula smiled smugly and then left, closing the door behind her.
I slumped back in my chair. Great. No pressure or anything. Just once it would have been nice to know my Father would be proud of me for doing my best, no matter the outcome. Or to have a sister who sincerely wanted me to succeed, instead of grinning smugly while plotting ways to sabotage me in order to improve her own position.
I flipped through Shakespeare's play, recalling Katara's expressions this morning. She was utterly incapable of hiding her true feelings. All of her emotions – annoyance, embarrassment, even desire – were broadcast across her face for me to see. Such honesty was refreshing, and it made me wonder what other feelings I could evoke in her. Like Petruchio, I was growing tired of our squabbling, tired of the suspicion that clouded her gaze whenever she saw me. I'd seen the warm smiles she gave to her friends, full of easy affection. Just once, I'd like her to look at me and smile like that. Like I was worthy of her friendship – or maybe more. But how would I get her to be more comfortable around me? I turned to tomorrow's reading. Maybe Shakespeare would give me an idea. He'd been doing pretty well so far.
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The next morning I woke up early, ran 5k before my shower, and drove to school. When I got to English class, Katara was already sitting down talking to Aang on her right. I slid into the empty seat on her left and was pleased to hear a hitch in her breath as she tried to ignore me. Still afraid I was going to say something to embarrass her, no doubt. It was time to put my new strategy into action: Zuko Fujiwara, Nice Guy.
"Good morning, Katara," I said politely.
She tensed and then turned to face me. A delightful blush stole across her cheeks. Was she remembering yesterday in the library? "Good morning."
Before I could say anything else, Aang interrupted, pulling her attention back to him. "Hey, Katara, you should come to cross country practice after school today. I've been making great times. I even beat Zuko yesterday. Coach says I might be able to win Regionals if I keep it up."
That little shit. Bragging about beating me? To Katara? Hell, no. My "nice guy" strategy only applied to her – Aang could go fuck himself.
I lowered my voice, softened it. "Katara." That's all I had to say, and she turned away from Aang again. She leaned toward me, unconsciously pushing a strand of long brown hair behind her ear. "Would you study with me at Break again? Same place as yesterday?" She didn't reply, but her eyes widened, and I knew. I had her.
"Hey, can I study with you, too?"
Katara didn't turn back to Aang this time. I held her gaze, reached over, and ran my thumb gently along her elbow. She closed her eyes, swallowed, and suddenly it seemed like the rest of the class just disappeared. There was only her. "Say yes," I prodded.
"Yes," she whispered, then opened her eyes. I smiled, careful to keep it warm, friendly, not smug, and withdrew my hand. As much as I wanted to press her further, I knew it would frighten her off right now. Sometimes strategic retreats were the only way to really move forward.
Mrs. Jennings started class, cutting off any further interruptions from Aang. Katara's readings echoed her character's confusion toward her new husband, torn between suspicion and attraction. Petruchio was assertive, yet considerate, making it seem that his forceful will was bent on protecting his wife rather than challenging her. Of course it was all strategy:
PETRUCHIO: Thus have I politicly begun my reign,
And 'tis my hope to end successfully.
To make her come and know her keeper's call,
This is a way to kill a wife with kindness;
And thus I'll curb her mad and headstrong humour.
He that knows better how to tame a shrew,
Now let him speak: 'tis charity to show.
Petruchio knew a thing or two about women, I thought with a smile. Some things never change.
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Katara managed to ditch Aang and meet me at the library. She was practically quivering with anticipation, but I was a good boy. A perfect gentleman. I kept my hands to myself, my eyes on my work. I could tell it was driving her crazy, waiting for me to say or do something suggestive while I was determined to be on my best behavior. The closest I came to touching her was when I asked to borrow her calculator.
At the end of Break, I had mixed feelings about playing the Nice Guy. On the one hand, I actually got some homework done today. My new training schedule was so exhausting, I fell asleep last night before I finished my work for Calculus, so I was glad I got caught up. On the other hand, it was damned boring wasting the time with Katara on something so mundane. I had a lot more fun when I teased her. The look of sweet confusion on her face right now was some consolation. When the bell rang and I packed up my stuff, she seemed almost disappointed.
"Thanks, Katara. Will you meet me again tomorrow?"
"You just want to – to study?"
I couldn't help teasing her, just a little. "Did you want to do something else?" I chuckled. There was that blush I loved so much. "Yes, I want to study, Katara. You're not the only one with homework. I concentrate really well when I'm around you. Maybe you're a good influence on me." I left the library, letting her mull over my words, already eager for tomorrow to come so I could confound her further.
That afternoon at cross country, I had another plan to put in place. I had figured out a way to beat Aang. I knew that I ran better when I was angry – I channeled my emotions into my running and they fueled me, propelled me forward. But I was betting that Aang, with his pacifist nature, ran better when he was calm. If I got him mad, it would distract him, throw him off balance, and give me a chance to bury him. And I knew just how to do it.
I walked over to him during warm-ups and got his attention. "How can you tell if a Buddhist is schizophrenic?"
Aang smiled at me. "I don't know. How?"
"Because he's at two with the universe."
He laughed. "Good one."
Now it was time to see how quickly I could get him angry. "Sorry Katara ditched you at Break today. That's rough."
"She didn't ditch me. She had to study."
"Yeah, I know. She was with me."
Aang started walking toward the track. His gait was stiff with irritation. Good. "You gave me some advice yesterday, so I want to return the favor. Stop following Katara around like some kind of damned puppy. It's really annoying."
He glanced at me. "Did she tell you that?"
"It's obvious. Look, kid, Katara's a nice person—"
"Really nice."
"Too nice. She's trying so hard not to hurt your feelings, she's not being honest with you."
"What do you mean?"
"I can tell you have a crush on her. But you need to understand, she's never going to be able to like you back. Not that way."
Coach Rodriguez blew his whistle for everyone to get to their starting positions, but Aang ignored him. "How do you know that?"
I shrugged and strolled casually toward the starting line, with him following me. "Just think about it. You're too young, too short, too naïve, too inexperienced for a woman like her. She needs a man, not a boy."
His hands were clenched into fists now. "And you're trying to get her to pick you, is that it?"
I smirked and leaned closer, lowering my voice so no one else could hear. "I don't have to try. She already picked me. Do you really think all we were doing was studying during Break?"
The whistle blew again and I took off, running for all I was worth. I was out in front, not daring to waste a second on the energy it would take to look behind me and see where Aang was. I took all my frustrations – over Father, Azula, Mai, Aang, Katara – and poured them into my feet, pounding them onto the pavement. When I finally passed the finish line, I felt exhausted, cleansed, and triumphant. Aang was nearly an entire lap behind, his face set in a scowl. I grinned.
I had finally found a strategy that I could use to beat him: No More Mr. Nice Guy.
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Author's Note: Some reviewers commented that my chapters are short. That's partially because I switch POV at each chapter, and I don't want to spend too long in one character's head without balancing it out and showing you what's going on with the other character. Also the beginning of the story has had a lot of introduction of settings and characters, which I find rather boring, so I've tried to compensate by keeping the pace quick. However I did try to make this one longer and the next one will be long as well. Let me know if you like the longer ones, or you think it slows the pace or you miss the POV of the other characters. Thanks for the feedback!
