Winds:
Disclaimer: Avatar: The Last Airbender belongs to Bryan Konietzko and Michael Dante DiMartino. I do not own any of this; this is purely fan fiction and is made for entertainment only.
Chapter 10:
"Father?"
Zuko approached hesitantly. The room was dark, save for the contained fire running across the back of his father's office.
"Zuko." Ozai did not sound pleased. Not that Zuko could tell; Ozai was turned around in his large leather chair so he did not have to look at the person he had summoned.
"Father, I came here as you asked," Zuko continued. He stood uncomfortably in front of his father's mahogany desk.
Ozai's foot tapped on the dark wood floor. "I am disappointed in you. I send you to a public school, in a suburb an hour away, in the hope that you may be able to handle passing such a lowly education..." Ozai turned halfway in his chair and slowly grabbed a single sheet of paper off his desk.
"It says here that you are currently failing your Business class," Ozai stated coldly. "How do you expect to run my Phoenix Corporation when you can barely pass a public school class?"
"I...I..." Zuko tried to defend himself, but Ozai was relentless.
"You thought this was acceptable, you thought you could do better." The fire behind Ozai seemed to surge as his voice became louder. "Your sister, Azula, has mastered every skill needed to run this company. She has the talent and intelligence you don't seem to possess."
Zuko bowed his head. "I'm sorry father. I will try to do better."
"Try?" Ozai sneered. "All you can do is 'try'. Such a disgrace."
"I am not a disgrace!" Zuko shouted back. His hands were curled up into fists.
Zuko realized his mistake as soon as he yelled. "I'm sorry father, please forgive me."
Ozai stood up in his chair, still facing the fire. He snorted. "Remove your sunglasses," Ozai commanded.
Zuko did as he was ordered, folding the sunglasses with an audible click.
"Touch the left side on your face."
Zuko raised a shaky hand to his face. With a wince, his fingertips came in contact with the tender skin.
"Tell me what that is."
Zuko swallowed hard, trying to find his voice. "A scar," he voice cracked.
"No," Ozai corrected. "It is a constant reminder of your failures, which almost cost me everything. Do not forget it."
"No sir," Zuko repeated in defeat.
"In a month's time you will return to my office," Ozai ordered. "The night of your last football game. Your opponent is Sozin Academy, the mighty school founded by your grandfather. If you lose to them, you will hand over your house keys. You will not be allowed back in my sights until you have done something worthy of redemption. Am I understood?"
Zuko nodded, despite the factor Ozai could not see him. "Yes sir, I understand."
Zuko could not see his father, but knew he was snarling. "You had better. Now get out of my sight."
The room was silent once more, save for the clicking of Zuko's leather shoes as he walked out of the room.
- A -
Sokka rubbed his arms. He was freezing cold. He had recently been offered a job working the snack counter at the ice rink. In order to work the hours, Sokka had to give up his job coaching rec. football. It was worth it though; it paid much better.
"Hey Sokka," the manager, Mr. Pine said. "Can you go ahead and lock up for me?" He tossed Sokka the keys. "The snack bar, locker rooms, and the ice rink. Just leave the keys in my office."
"Yes sir," Sokka replied.
"Good, thank you son," the old man replied, walking out.
Sokka finished wiping the counter clean and closed up the snack bar. He took off his ketchup and mustard stained apron and left in on the bleachers. He then grabbed a broom and began to sweep the beachers.
Sokka sighed. This job was okay, but Sokka couldn't understand why people didn't clean up after themselves.
Tired from sweeping, Sokka sat down and gazed out at the ice. He had to admit, watching hockey players out there, smashing and shooting; it looked like fun. If only he could know what it felt like...
Sokka spun the keys around his finger, thinking of ways he might be able to see what it was like to play hockey.
Wait a minute, Sokka realized, He had the key to the locker room in his hand. He could go borrow some spare equipment real quick!
Sokka shot off for the locker room, excited as a kid after a handful of candy.
It took him a little while to dig though all the spare equipment, but finally he found skates that fit and a stick. It took a good few minutes for Sokka to figure out how to lace the cleats up.
Sokka stood up shakily, balancing on the skate blades. As he walked out towards the ice, he tried to remember the last time he had been ice skating. His mom used to take him to the ice rink all the time. Sokka loved the cool air, and the big guys ramming into each other. Sokka had almost forgotten about their family tips to hockey games, it had been so long.
Sokka stepped hesitantly onto the ice. After a few cautious steps, he began to get the hang of it. Dig the tip of the skate in and push off to move forward. Turn the skate sideways to stop.
Sokka began skating as fast as he possibly could around the rink. He began to work his stick into it.
"And he shoots, he scores!" Sokka yelled, moving his stick for a pretend shot.
Within a couple minutes, Sokka was panting. His legs were so sore. This was really hard work.
He leaned up against the wall for a minute to catch his breath. As his eyes scanned around the rink, Sokka saw a deserted puck left in the back of the arena.
He skated over to it, using his stick to get it. Then Sokka began to dribble the puck like he saw professionals on TV do.
"Not bad."
Sokka stopped dribbling, and whipped his head around in shock. No one else was supposed to be here.
Sokka spotted the man who had spoke, near the entrance to the ice rink. He quickly skated over to him. "I'm so sorry sir."
The man waved him off. "Not my arena. Just my equipment. I'm the boys' hockey coach here." He stuck out his hand for Sokka to shake. "Bato. Pleased to meet you."
Sokka shook his hand. "Sokka Garcia."
The man, Bato, blinked in surprise. "Sokka? Don't suppose you're Hakoda's kid, are you?"
"Y-yeah," Sokka stammered, surprised. "You know my dad?"
Bato let out a belly laugh. "Yes, I do. Known him all my life. We used to serve together in the Navy, until shrapnel from a fragmentation grenade completely shattered my left arm."
"I'm sorry," Sokka apologized. He stared at Bato's left arm.
"Eh, it's good as new now," Bato explained, pulling up his jacket sleeve to show the healed skin. "No harm done really."
Sokka nodded, and stepped off the ice and sat next to Bato on the bleachers. "Where is your dad kiddo?" Bato asked.
"Overseas." Sokka deadpanned.
"Again?" Bato asked in surprise. He decided to drop the point though. "You know, you're pretty good for not playing before," Bato complemented, referencing Sokka's hockey skills.
"Thanks." Sokka absentmindedly played with the stick.
"You know," Bato rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "We are in need of one more player. How would you like to play for me, and my team, the Wolves?
Sokka looked up at Bato to see if his offer was genuine. It was.
Unfortunately, Sokka knew his place. "I'm sorry sir –"
" – Please, call me Bato."
Sokka began again."I'm sorry Bato, but me and my sister can't afford it. Thank you very much though."
Bato stared at the dejected kid. "Alright, if you say so. The offer is still there, if you change your mind."
"Thank you." Sokka's spirits were dashed, but his manners weren't.
"I'll see you around kiddo," Bato said goodbye, patting Sokka on the shoulder, before walking away.
Sokka no longer had the energy or desire to skate on the ice any longer. With a sigh, he stood up and treaded back into the locker room.
- A -
Zuko curled his hands into fists. Why did the world hate him?
No one understood Zuko. The pressure he was under.
Zuko buried his face in his hands. Here he was, six in the evening, lying in the school parking lot against his car.
Zuko ran his hand over the pavement, feeling the jagged concrete scrape his palm. He had no desire to go home at all. It was over an hour drive to his father's penthouse apartment in Manhattan.
His father. Just the thought filled Zuko's mouth with bitterness. An overbearing, cruel, cold, and brutal man, Ozai took every opportunity to beat Zuko down. Whether it was about his success in sports or improvements in school, there was only disappointment from Ozai.
"Hey." A nudge to Zuko's side followed, causing him to look up.
Zuko glared up at the person. There stood Jet, complete with ragged leather jacket, old orange tee, tight jeans, high tops, and an ego bigger than a plane.
Zuko turned his gaze elsewhere. "What do you want Jet?"
Jet stuck his hands in his pockets. "Chill out. I came over to see if you're okay."
"I'm fine," Zuko snarled. "I don't need anyone's help."
Jet sat down next to Zuko, folded his arm behind his head, and leaned back against the car. "Those are some big words for a guy who always hides his face."
Zuko brought one hand up to his sunglasses. Zuko closed his eyes, remembering what they hid.
Jet smirked, knowing he had taken the upper hand. Jet reached into the inside of his jacket, and pulled out a tiny carton from a secret pocket. Zuko watched as Jet pulled out a cigarette.
"What are you doing?" Zuko asked in shock. Jet just seemed so casual about the fact he just whipped out a cigarette. "That could get you kicked off of football, expelled, and arrested."
Jet smirked. "Nah. You don't seem like a narc," he explained. "Besides, it's worth it."
Zuko reeled back a bit. "What?"
Jet nodded. "Yup. This little baby takes all your worries away. Easy peasy."
Jet lit the cigarette with expert ease. Noticing Zuko's stare, he tossed the carton to him. He took the little stick out to speak. "Want one?"
Zuko just stared at the little carton his hand. He knew this was illegal, as well as horrible for his body. But he looked over at Jet, who did look like all of his worries just flew away. Zuko wanted his worries to fly away.
"Okay. I'll take one," Zuko practically whispered. He took a white stick and stuck it in his mouth.
" 'ere we go." Jet smirked as he pulled back the lever on his lighter.
With a burst, the little flame roared to life.
- A -
"I made something for you. "
Sokka pulled at the tie around his neck. It was itchy and uncomfortable, and he already felt awkward enough. With the help of Katara, Sokka had dressed up formally on his date with Yue. Sokka had enough waiting and guessing around. He was going to kiss Yue tonight.
As a present, he had carved her a little fish. Well, he had tried, anyways. Sokka just hoped Yue liked it, as he stood awkwardly with the fish sculpture out in his palm.
Yue let out a little giggle at first. "Thanks," she reacted honestly.
"It's a fish," Sokka explained. He used one finger to turn it around in his hand. "I guess it looks kind of like a bear."
Yue took it out of his hand and tucked it into hers. "I love it." She grinned as Sokka sighed in relief.
They had just finished a night of mini golf, and had snuck back inside the waterfall hole. The water roared down the outsides, but Sokka and Yue leaned up against the inside walls, sitting on the artificial grass.
"So did you have fun tonight?" Sokka asked her.
"Yeah," Yue replied. "Although, I don't think throwing your club at the windmill was necessary." She laughed, remembering the incident.
"Hey, hey," Sokka defended himself. "That windmill was mocking me. It should have let my ball in, at least after the seventh time!"
Both of their laughter died out, and soon rushing water was the only sound to be heard.
"I really like you."
That phrase caught Yue way off guard. She whipped her head around to make sure Sokka was the person who said it. "What?"
Sokka kept staring straight ahead. "I said I really like you. Like like-like you," he explained, reverting back to elementary school terms.
Yue sighed. "I like you too," she admitted.
"You don't act like you do," Sokka pointed out dejectedly. "Every time I seem to get close to kissing you, you run away or make an excuse. No one gets a cold as much as you say you get them!"
Yue felt awful for spurning Sokka's advances. "I'm sorry I lied to you. But I do like you."
"Then kiss me." Sokka gave her an ultimatum.
"What?" Yue reeled back. "I..I.."
Sokka was getting frustrated. Deciding to take matters into his own hands, Sokka leaned over Yue and smashed his lips on hers.
It was by no means a graceful kiss, but it was mutual. Sokka felt Yue push back against his lips. The new warmth left Sokka as Yue pulled away for air.
Blush spread across both of their cheeks. Yue was stunned. She knew she shouldn't have kissed Sokka but it felt ... right.
Yue felt so conflicted. She shouldn't have kissed Sokka, but she wanted to. Yue knew she was falling for this kid, but she couldn't afford that. Tearing up, Yue stood up and closed her eyes.
"I'm sorry Sokka," Yue apologized, she voice breaking. "I can't see you anymore." A single tear ran down her face, but Sokka couldn't see.
Without any more of a warning, Yue ran away, leaving Sokka lying on the ground.
Sokka just stared, dumbfounded. Was he a bad kisser or something? How could such a fun night turn bad in a matter of minute?
Confused and frustrated, Sokka banged the back of his head against the fake rock wall. This was quite the disappointing night.
- A -
"You're home late nephew."
"Uncle," Zuko greeted the old man.
Most school nights, Zuko stayed at his uncle's house instead of making the trek to Manhattan. Zuko mostly stayed in the city during the weekends.
His uncle's apartment was modest, but comfortable. The floors and walls were lined with dark wood, and the lighting was minimal. Upon walking in the front door, there was a quaint living area and a kitchen with a bar dividing the two spaces. A small terrace was accessible through a glass sliding door next to the refrigerator. To the right of the kitchen was a small hallway which led to the two bedrooms and a bathroom.
It was dark, but not in the threatening way his father's office was. No, it was more … comforting.
"How was your day?" Iroh asked. He watched as Zuko threw his car keys into a dish by the door.
"Fine," Zuko snapped, walking straight past his uncle. Zuko grabbed the handle of his bedroom door and ripped it open.
"Will you be joining me for dinner?" Iroh asked politely.
"No." Zuko snarled, slamming the door behind him.
Iroh sighed. He felt so bad for his nephew. The pressure he was under, the tyrant father who scorned his achievements.
Iroh just hoped Zuko was okay. He had noticed his nephew smelled like smoke as he walked in.
Slurping his cup of tea, Iroh made a mental note to watch Zuko a bit closer.
Robert Pine is the voice actor for the fisherman in book 1, that's where the manager's name came from. I was hoping to get this story caught up to the holiday time, but unfortunately I wasn't able to. However, my goal is to have it up before New Years at the latest. Hope this chapter was interesting, it's going to set up a lot of conflicts.
- Dapper
And Happy Holidays to you guys!
P.S. Thank you for those reviews, I really tried to keep them in mind during this chapter.