ZUKO

IF THERE WAS A PART OF BEING IN A PERMANENT BASE AND NOT IN SOME RAMSHACKLE, HASTILY THROWN-TOGETHER FORT OUT IN THE REBELLIOUS WILDS THAT ZUKO LIKED BEST, IT WOULD HAVE TO BE THAT, ON A REAL BASE, THEY HAD OFFICERS' CLUBS. Out in the field, the officers' club was merely whichever officer's tent the other officers decided to drink in today, or, when not on combat operations (a loose term if there ever was one, Zuko had always thought), say, back at aforementioned thrown-together fort, the officers' club was simply a rickety table in a rickety officers' mess.

Here, though, in what passed for civilization outside of garrison duty in the cities? Here, officers' club meant a real, genuine club, or, as it happened, a bar. There were tables and chairs and a rather exquisite-looking oaken bar, shined and polished. There was real booze and real food, and all one had to do to get in was be an officer and make sure one's duty uniform was correct (there were standards to maintain, after all). A young officer, far from home, could sit down with his friends, relax, have a drink, and do what soldiers do best: Gossip. Sure, the booze wasn't top-notch, and the cigarettes were standard Army-issue, pre-packed and stuffed with harsh, cheap tobacco, but it was still the closest one could come to being a human being without lucking into a posting in, say, Ba Sing Se.

Though, Zuko reflected as he followed Toru into the club, judging from the rumors flying around the past year, Ba Sing Se isn't the quiet billet that it once was. If the stories (carefully suppressed though they were) were to believed, there had been riots, acts of vandalism and assault against Fire Nation citizens, and, increasingly, attacks on armed soldiers themselves. And it wasn't just in the occupied Earth Kingdom that tensions were on the rise. Even back in the Homeland, there were stories of increased levels of draft dodging, desertion, and, according to one story that Zuko very much believed, a full-scale draft riot in Kagoshima, the home port for the entire Southern Fleet.

That last bit of news always brought a smile to Zuko's face. He could only imagine how nervous that would make the powers that be feel.

The day had passed rather uneventfully. After the briefing with the Captain, the officers had checked on their men at drill, then gone back to the barracks to pour over the briefing materials. Before lunch, there was yet another briefing, this time with the non-commissioned officers of the company, and then, after lunch, one more briefing, or, five briefings, wherein the officers addressed their platoons. Lately, the afternoons had been taken up with prep for the inspection, but now, the officers inspected each of their individual platoons, so that they knew what to spend the next day fighting the quartermasters for. This particular delicate subject was the topic of a rant by Tsurukawa at Ryu and Yukawa, when the three joined Zuko and Toru at the isolated back-corner table that had been carefully chosen for today's meeting.

"So," Tsurukawa was saying as he plopped himself down in a chair, "I look at that asshole Kuroda," that being one of the more unreasonable quartermasters' clerks, "and I ask him, very carefully, why the fuck the fucking parts for the fucking wheel on the fucking wagon hasn't been fixed yet." In his fury, the upper-class accent he had worked so hard to acquire was slipping, turning his voice into an awkward cross between a general and a grizzled platoon sergeant. "And you know what that little fucker says to me?"

"What did that little fucker say to you?" Toru asked, beckoning over one of the locals who did odd jobs on such bases, such as serving drinks in the officers' club.

Tsurukawa had stuck a cigarette in his mouth, and was lighting it with an angry snap of his fingers. "Why, that little fucker had the nerve to look me right in the eye and say, Because you didn't fill out a requisition form for them."

"But wait," Ryu says, with all the wide-eyed innocence of a soldier too new to have lost faith in humanity and the quartermaster's corps, which, as far as Zuko was concerned, were two entirely different things, "didn't you fill that out, like, two weeks ago?"

Tsurukawa slammed a fist onto table, making the drinks Toru and Zuko were already sipping jump. "I didn't just fill out and file that gods-damn form two fucking weeks ago, I went in last week and this same little fucker told me they were working on it. Can you guys believe that bullshit?"

The others made appropriate sounds of sympathy, while Toru, being Toru, leaned forward and said, "Yeah, but, in their defense, things are a bit crazy over there lately, what with the inspection and all."

"That's not what you said last week," Zuko muttered, smiling into his glass.

"Hey," Toru replied, lighting his own cigarette, "look, I got a bit heated, okay? And can you blame me? Is it really that fucking hard to get ahold of twenty pairs of fucking socks?"

"Apparently," Zuko admitted, stubbing out his old cigarette and lighting a new one. Before he could continue, though, the waiter appeared, taking everyone's drink orders. As soon as he left, Zuko returned his attention to Tsurukawa and said, "So, what're you going to do?"

Tsurukawa shrugged, flopping back rather nonchalantly in his chair. "What else can I do? I told Noboru," that being his platoon sergeant, "to shake the NCO Tree and scrounge up the parts. If that doesn't work, I'll just send a couple of the boys out to steal them."

Zuko looked to Toru. "Isn't that what you ended up having to do with the socks?"

Toru shrugged, looking innocent. "I don't know what you're talking about. Also, fuck Third Battalion."

"Hey, about that," Ryu said, leaning forward, a confused look on his face, "why are we always shitting on Third Battalion?"

"Because that's what soldiers do," Tsurukawa replied, much more relaxed now that he had had his bitch fit, "talk shit about any unit that's not theirs."

"Yeah," Ryu said, not looking at all enlightened, "but why don't we shit on Second Battalion?"

"Because," Zuko said, polishing off his drink and taking a new one from the waiter who had just reappeared, "back in the spring, the idiot we were then cursed with for a battalion commander walked us into an ambush, and Second Battalion saved our asses, so they get a temporary pass."

Ryu laughed. "Wait…I thought it was you who saved everyone's asses?"

Zuko frowned, while the others shifted uncomfortably in their seats. It seemed that the moment, as it were, had finally arrived. It wasn't just that he had never learned how to handle praise; that was pretty much a constant in his life. The thing was…he really didn't want to have this conversation. He hated it, hated every fucking minute of it. He remembered when he heard that the officer Ryu had replaced wasn't coming back from hospital (on account of having his legs crushed in that very ambush). His heart had fallen into his feet and his mouth had gone dry. He had had to get up from the table where he had heard the news and walk outside, gulping in stale summer air, because the news wasn't just horrible for the officer (whom Zuko considered a friend), but it also meant that, once again, Zuko would have to sit down with a new, wide-eyed, idealistic kid and come agonizingly close to committing treason.

Plus, they never quite look at me the same ever again, do they…?

He took a deep breath, let it out, downed half his glass in one go. But it has to be done, doesn't it? If I want to stay where I am, continue doing what I do, it has to be done.

Fuck my life sometimes.

"Honestly," Zuko said, looking deep into his glass, "I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about."

Ryu blinked, obviously thrown off by that. "But…"

"That's actually what we're here to talk to you about," Toru said, cutting in, much to Zuko's relief.

"What do you mean?" Ryu asked. "What has that got to do with…well…anything?"

"It has everything to fucking do with it," Tsurukawa barked, waving over the waiter and ordering a bottle of hot sake and some cups.

"I really don't follow," Ryu said, shaking his head in confusion.

"Yeah…most don't at first." Zuko found himself staring at the smoke rising from the tip of his cigarette, contemplating how he had ever gotten here. There seemed to be so many steps, so many small, ignorant movements, so many stops along the way, so many points at which it all could have gone another way. He could've heeded his mother's advice. He could've asked Uncle to not stick him on the bullshit committee his father was allowed to run. He could've not trusted in the reliability of his cousin.

I could've kept my gods-damn mouth shut.

He smirked. But then again, I wouldn't be here, would I? I'd still be there, and fuck that. At the end of the day, four solid years away from Palace made an eye and half his face seem like a small price to pay.

It was just the conversations like this that made it hard.

"So," Zuko said, finally fixing his gaze on Ryu, "you ever wondered why the guys call me Your Royal Highness from time-to-time?"

Ryu shrugged, looking utterly lost. "Um…not really? I figured it had something to do with your slightly haughty demeanor and that outrageously posh accent of yours."

That brought him up short. Zuko rounded on Toru and barked, "I do not have a haughty demeanor…do I?"

Toru waved a hand through the air. "To people who don't know you, I guess it can look that way."

"I definitely thought you had a stick up your ass, first I met you," Tsurukawa added, rather unhelpfully, Zuko thought.

Yukawa, typically, settled for a grunt and a shrug.

"Well," Ryu said, looking a bit embarrassed, "I didn't mean it like that…I mean, it's only slight, and hey, I don't know you very well yet…"

Zuko silenced him with a wave, mentally promising to make the others pay, first chance he got. Yukawa's socks are definitely getting spice thrown in them. "Whatever. Point is, it's not just a stupid nickname. You ever heard of a Prince named Zuko?"

"Um…kind of?" Ryu reached up and rubbed the back of his head. "Prince Ozai's son, the one no one's seen in a while?"

Zuko patted his chest. "Well, that's me, one in the same."

Ryu's jaw dropped. "Wow…really? I mean, I thought your name was kind of…odd, I mean, what with Tokugawa and all, but…I mean…what's a royal fucking prince of the actual fucking blood doing with a front-line infantry unit? I mean…don't you guys typically do your National Service on generals' staffs and shit?"

"Well," Toru said, reaching over and giving Zuko's shoulder a manly squeeze, "as it so happens, our Zuko here, while great at being an officer, utterly fucking sucked at being a Prince."

Ryu chuckled. "Yeah, I can see that…still…" A moment came, the moment Zuko always looked for, and always dreaded, when wheels turned and clicked in someone's head and they did the simple act of putting two-and-two together. Ryu pursed his lips, opened them, closed them, opened them again, and finally, after what seemed like an excruciatingly long time to Zuko, asked The Question:

"Wait…this doesn't have anything to do with how you got your scar, does it?"

Zuko didn't even have to close his eye to see it all again. His father's face, the terrified looks of the other men in the room, Zuko's own voice, coming as if from far away, the promise that pain would be his teacher, the flash of light, the pain, the pain…

And then waking up in the hospital, his sister sound asleep by the bed, clutching his hand…and later, her voice, choked with angry tears, vowing that their family would pay…

"It does," Zuko admitted, blinking at the sake bottle that seemed to have appeared in the center of the table, "but, we're not going to talk about that right now."

Ryu sighed, looking disappointed; Zuko had no doubt that he had probably already entered the regimental betting pool on the subject. "Well…okay…then…what are we here to talk about?"

"We're here," Toru said, giving Zuko's shoulder a final squeeze before taking his hand away, "to talk about what that means, and, most importantly, about the Avatar."

Ryu threw his hands up in surrender. "Alright, now I haven't got the slightest fucking clue what's going on here."

Tsurukawa laughed. "It's alright; it took me a good week to process, when they had this conversation with me."

"Huh," Ryu said, then, to Yukawa, "what about you, Yuk? Did you get all of this, when they told you?"

Yukawa grunted and shot Ryu a look that said, I figured it all out on my own, which was true, because that's how Yukawa rolled. It was a credit to Ryu that he had already figured out what Yukawa's complex system of grunts and shrugs and looks meant.

Ryu gave a slow, not at all enlightened nod. "Alright then…so," he continued turning back to Toru and I, "what does all this mean?"

"I was packed off to the Army so I'd stop being an embarrassment and to head off a scandal," Zuko said, pouring everyone a shot of sake, "with the hope being that I'd get myself quickly and quietly killed." He took the shot, poured another. "Failing that, the hope was that I'd at least do well enough to never have to be heard from again."

"In other words," Toru said, picking up the thread, "it's important that, when Zuko does something incredible and outrageous in the field-"

"Like he did when he saved all of our asses from that idiot battalion commander we had," Tsurukawa said.

"Right. When he does something like that…well…it's best not to mention it."

"The less attention I attract," Zuko finished, "the better, not just for me, but for all of you. In fact," he continued, leaning forward, face deadly serious, "if you know what's good for you, should anyone from outside the regiment ask, not only am I a terrible officer, but you hate my guts, and can't wait until you get the chance for another assignment."

Ryu shook his head, raising a finger in protest. "Alright, I'm calling bullshit on that right there. Just about everyone in the regiment seems to think you're pretty good at what you do."

"Eh," Zuko said, struggling not to blush, "they're just cracking wise."

Toru rolled his eyes. "Oh, stop that, Zuko. But," back to Ryu, "in answer to your question…surely you wonder why the Ninety-Fourth was stuck out in the hot zones for so long, or why we've seen so much action, or why no one ever seems to get promoted."

Which means that you all very well might die someday because you were unlucky enough to know me, Zuko thought, taking another shot of sake to dull the shame.

Ryu, meanwhile, was laughing. "Which is funny, because it's exactly due to all of that combat experience that I asked for this unit." When this was greeted by a wall of shocked looks (even Yukawa looks surprised, Zuko noted with wonder), the boy awkwardly shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck. "What? Highborn nobles can afford to coast on their clan's legacies and shuffle papers around some general's desk; a merchant's son has no choice but to get out in the field, if he wants his military service to mean anything."

Tsurukawa sighed, downing a shot of sake. "Man, sometimes, I swear, our country is just so fucked up."

"You should try being royalty," Zuko pointed out.

"Fuck that," was Tsurukawa's reply.

"Word," Toru added. "I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy."

Zuko decided the moment had come to crack a smile. "Even that asshole Tsukazaki?"

Toru laughed. "Alright, maybe him…"

"Who's Tsukazaki?" Ryu asked.

"The head of the regiment's Kempei detachment," that being, the head of the regiment's complement of the military secret police.

Ryu grimaced. "Ah…you mean the fat asshole who gives the security briefing while wiping his face and farting?"

"That's the one," Zuko said, "only I wouldn't go around say that too loudly."

"Well, duh. Still…alright, I get all of this. Zuko's an actual, honest-to-Agni prince, and he's gotta keep a low profile…I get that. I mean, not really, but I get it enough to follow through. What's this got to do with the Avatar?"

"Well, that's simple." Zuko paused to light a new cigarette, took a big, dramatic puff (after all, he wasn't royal for nothing), and only after making a big production of blowing out the smoke, did he finish:

"The Avatar is back in the Earth Kingdom, or soon will be. Which means, we might run into them." Again, he thought, sharing conspiratorial glances at Toru and Tsurukawa, all while a pair of the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen, blue as the deepest ocean, floated up before him. "And if that happens…well…if you run into them, let them go."

"Don't harm or hinder them in any way," Toru continued. "In fact, do your best to pretend they don't exist, and then forget you ever saw them."

"Because if you don't," Tsurukawa cut in, "if you decide to be a fucking hero, it's all of our fucking necks."

"Because," Zuko finished, looking Ryu dead in the eye, "if I catch the Avatar, I become a direct threat to my cousin, and I won't last a day past his coronation, assuming I even make it that far."

"And neither will anyone who was there when it happened," Toru said, voice dark and ominous.

At first, Ryu didn't do anything. He sat there, face blank, staring at the cigarette between his fingers. Slowly, as if in a dream, he reached out, tapped out some of the ash, pulled back in. He took a deep breath, let it out, the repeated the process once more. When realization came, it was very slow, almost imperceptible. It started at the corners of his mouth, and then, before Zuko's eyes, blossomed into a light shining forth from golden eyes. And then, just when his frown was about to turn into a smile, Tsurukawa decided to be Tsurukawa.

"And, if you should happen to run into the Avatar, look for a tall, twenty-two-year-old, dark-skinned, brown-haired girl with big blue eyes."

Ryu turned, looking skeptical. "Why the fuck would I do that?"

"Because," Tsurukawa said, ignoring the daggers Zuko was sending him, "and you'll have to trust me on this, the sight of our friend Zuko swooning like a love-drunk teenager is something that you do not want to miss out on witnessing."

If Zuko had still had the whiskey glass he started out with, he would've thrown it at Tsurukawa. As it was, he had to settle for flipping the man the bird.


That was fun, wasn't it? This is still fun, right? I don't have very many reviews, so I'm feeling all needy and a bit lost. I like this fic, and I want you guys to like it, too.

Alright, the neediness is over. I promise. Is this a face that would lie?

*hurriedly kicks the promises of unlimited fluff that started "Wild, Wild Love" out of sight*

ANYHOO, on to the fic! So, what's going on thus far? Basically, the Avatar's quest is two years old, and the first two years, well...didn't go well. Things got side-tracked and messed up, and something really horrible happened in the North (Fun Fact: Iqaluit is the capital of Nunavik Territory in Canada; also, it's ridiculously fun to type). Meanwhile, the war in the Earth Kingdom continues to grind on, and our favorite exiled prince is doing his best to stay out of the Palace's notice (which sets up some nice dramatic irony, I should like to think; also, some plain irony, too). In pursuit of this, he sits down young Lieutenant Mishima, and swears the boy into the pact he's already sworn his fellow officers into.

Which is a summary of what I just wrote, so...ignore it as you please. Now, shout-outs!

First, to kaylinthehuman, I must humbly apologize for not following you before. This has been corrected; if it makes things better, please keep in mind that I'm the guy who typically takes at least a few days to answer personal e-mails, and a week to listen to voicemails. Drives my wife up a wall.

Second, to storyoftheunknownfangirl, I apologize for the typos. I promised myself this wouldn't be a problem this time around, but I was in a hurry when I posted the first cycle of the story. From here on out, I intend for this not to be an issue! I'm even re-reading the chapters before I post them, like a real author! See, it only takes a year of you guys teasing me and my wife, while reading some original work I did, gleefully calling out every mistake, for me to mend my ways!

Also, storyoftheunknownfangirl...shhhhhhhhhhhhh! You know what I'm talking about! *wags finger*

So, you guys still enjoying yourselves? I hope so!

PS - For the curious, Zuko's last name is Tokugawa because the asshole needed a family name, and his dynasty needed to be called something. My choice will make sense as I go on in this fic and flesh out the world.