"All I know is that I have a very bad feeling about this."
Kazuo sighed, packing in another uniform, fresh from the palace's cleaners.
"Look, Izumi, I appreciate your concern, but I can't very well just not go because you have a bad feeling. Even if you are the Princess, I'd still feel it was a dereliction of duty."
"Think of Iroh, Kazuo. We both know that the Triads are here to stay, and no so-called 'offensive' that General Bohuai will stop that. My father has tried to avoid it, but there's too much pressure to eliminate them. All this will end with is more dead bodies and more destruction."
Kazuo zipped his bag up, facing Izumi, and placing his hands on her shoulders gently.
"I love you, Izumi. And I love Iroh. But you know as well as I do that we can fight the Triads. We've done it before, and I can tell you with the greatest certainty that we're close to busting the Death's Heads and the Black Marks completely. I can't just sit back and let these thugs take control of our Nation."
Izumi hardened her gaze, despair, frustration, and desperation mixing into a miasma of negative emotion. If only Kya could see her now…
"I can't let you do this to Iroh… to me. Let me go with you, at least. I can take a contingent of the Royal Guard, we can fight side by side…"
Abruptly, Kazuo wrapped her in a tight hug.
"I'm sorry, Izumi, but your father would kill me if I took you into danger like that. Don't worry about me, Izumi. I've done this routine a thousand times. Just make sure you have the cooks make us a tastier pie, alright?"
Reluctantly, Izumi released her husband. His words rang true in her heart, and her inner voice told her that she was being too clingy and worried. Her husband had this under control. She was worrying about nothing.
Izumi woke up quickly, beads of sweat forming all over her body. Desperately, she tore her covers off and landed on the floor, kneeling down as she struggled to catch her breath. Her spacious room, with its large bed with crimson covers and the large, slightly open windows with drapes that seemed to drift like the branches of a willow tree, was suddenly too small for her to bear.
She tied her robe closed, putting on her glasses and letting her hair tumble past her shoulders.
Zea, one of her bodyguards, looked at her curiously as she opened the door quietly.
"Is something wrong, Highness?" the helmeted girl asked, worry tinging her slightly muffled voice.
Izumi smiled reassuringly.
"No. I simply would like to grab a midnight snack from the kitchens."
"We can have something sent up, if you—"
"That won't be necessary, Zea. Follow me if you must, but I really just need some air."
She walked down the hall casually, doing her best to shake off the last vestiges of sleep. To her left, another row of windows, massive and open, let in a refreshingly cool breeze that soothed her skin and kept the stifling warmth at bay.
Of course, her father had told her many times that assassins liked to choose these windows as points of entry, but she felt confident that the guards on the roof, as well as her personal skill, would prevent any premature assassination.
She padded down the stairs, her sandals gently hitting the soles of her feet. She passed a guard, who snapped to attention amusingly as she walked by. She gave him a nod, and continued on towards the ground floor, where she knew the kitchens were.
She had spent so many years in this place that she was confident she could find her way around blindfolded.
She opened the large wooden door, which creaked annoyingly, revealing the large kitchens of the Royal Palace. Tables upon tables covered with produce, utensils, and tools went all throughout the large room, and a row of sinks across the far wall were piled high with gleaming, recently-cleaned dishes.
She knew that in the morning, in a few hours, in fact, the servants would come in and put the dishes away in preparation for the next morning's culinary schedule.
As a girl, she had often wondered what it would be like to be a servant, spending one's life serving someone else. She had decided early on that she would have hated it. This, alongside her parent's emphasis on kindness and generosity in all things, had informed her decision to be as nice and friendly as she could to her staff.
She knew that a lot of them were simple middle-class people, trying to get along in life to provide for themselves, their families, or loved ones. Some were students, hoping to get extra credit (albeit only after a stringent security process). Others were mothers, housewives, and wash-ups who had chosen service as a last resort.
"Oh! My Lady! You… you scared me!" squeaked a timid voice from behind her.
A scrawny, freckled girl in a red-and black servant's uniform bowed low, or at least as low as she could with an armful of books and papers.
"My apologies. I simply wanted a snack."
"I can prepare a meal, if it pleases you…"
Izumi held up a hand.
"Please, stand up. That won't be necessary- if you have a lump of bread or an apple or something, that should be more than enough."
"O-Of course, Milady."
The serving girl quickly dumped her books on the table and nearly sprinted to a freezing room, where she emerged from with a bag of apples. Quickly, she retrieved a cutting board from a cabinet (it blew Izumi's mind that they could tell which cabinet was which, what with the sheer number of them) and began cutting the apple.
"Oh, you don't have to—"
"Please, Milady. I insist."
As she continued cutting, Izumi glanced at the books and smiled. They were school books, many of them similar to what she had read for fun in many cases as a child.
"How do you like Tamura's textbook?" Izumi asked, hoping to begin a conversation.
"O-Oh! Fine, Milady. He… has a way with words, I suppose you could say. Many of my friends think him boring, but I find it fascinating, Your Highness."
Izumi smiled, moving the book to the side. She grinned wider upon seeing a copy of her father's memoir underneath it. She recalled his frustration and sense of annoyance when he had been advised to have it written by both Izumi's mother and many of his advisors. The many hours he had spent with the long line of ghost writers had been stressful then, but rather funny in hindsight.
"And do you like my father's memoir?"
The girl nodded, turning around with a precisely cut apple on a small dish, which she handed to Izumi. Izumi thanked her quietly, and bit into the crisp, juicy apple, which incredibly good.
"Oh, y-yes, Milady. Your father led an interesting life. I love reading about Avatar Aang, your father, and the others who ended the war."
Izumi smiled. The young girl's nervous but earnest thoughts were a refreshing change from the double-crossing, backhanded political speak she constantly had to deal with.
"What's your name?"
"O-Osake, Your Highness. From Shakogawa, outside of Fire Fountain City."
"Are you here with the student program, then?"
"N-no, your Highness. I just- I have no clear idea what I want to do, Milady, so I figured I'd serve the Royal Family until I can figure something out. I was told this would be a good gateway to better jobs."
Izumi nodded. It wasn't exactly the most conventional background, but many of her staff were ambitious career-minded individuals that hoped to use the service job as a gateway to bigger and better things. Little did they know that many employers looked upon the job as a glorified manservant, much less a dignified profession.
"Let me give you some advice, Osake. In this world today, you have to take opportunity by the fist. I appreciate what it is you do here, but I can tell by your choice of literature that you're a smart, energetic student with much potential. Don't let this job take over your life. Some of your comrades in the serving staff have been here since I was a child. Don't let that be you. Thank you for the snack. It was very good."
Izumi bowed quickly, and exited the dim kitchens, glancing back at the astounded young girl once, a smile on her face.
The only sounds in the lavish, large room were hushed whispers and the faint clinking of silverware.
Izumi looked to her left as Katara stood silently, wiping a tear from her eye. She beckoned towards Izumi, who went to the old woman's side.
"I'm sorry for your loss, Izumi. Mai was a great woman. She'll be missed."
"Thanks, Katara. Where are you going?"
The old woman's face seemed to get even sadder, if that was even possible.
"It's Aang. He's been getting sicker as of late. I have to be there in case he…"
Izumi nodded sympathetically.
"It's okay, Katara. Really. I understand- go to him. I can explain it to father when he gets back."
The old woman looked around reluctantly.
"Where did he go, anyway?"
"He… he needed some air. Perhaps you can catch him on the way out."
The elderly waterbender nodded again, and hugged Izumi tightly once more. Then, with a look of sympathy and grief, she exited the room of mourning.
Izumi sat back down, glancing at her 17-year-old son.
Iroh looked back at her, his expression, one of reservation and an active guard, startling reminiscent of her late mother.
Ever since Kazuo had been killed by the Triads, her son had been a lot more like his grandmother, in fact. It worried Izumi, really. He had seemed to shut down at all times save the most intimate of moments, saying only what needed to be said, never beginning a conversation.
He had also begun attending the United Forces' Military Academy. At first, Izumi had been strongly opposed, going so far as to blurt out that 'I don't want to lose you to the fighting, too."
Her son, however, had eventually persuaded her that he needed this- the structure, the order, the camaraderie, and the honor.
It was always about the honor, with him, as it had been with her own father in times past.
"Are you okay, Mom?" he whispered, the smallest expressions of concern begin to seep through his stony exterior.
Izumi shrugged.
The tears had long since stopped. Losing her husband, and then her mother, had driven her to the edge. At least her mother had lived a long, satisfying life, dying with her friends and family by her side. It had been noble. Crushingly devastating, but noble.
All Kazuo had gotten was a brutal death at the hands of the Agni Kai Triads, who had wanted nothing more than petty revenge and cold, hard, cash.
Beside her, Ty Lee, dressed in an abnormally spartan outfit (for the colorful acrobat), held her shoulder gently. The co-leader of the Kyoshi Warriors had flown all the way from the Earth Kingdom, leaving her family, friends, and work, to mourn the passing of her closest remaining friend.
The aging, but still floatingly optimistic warrior nodded grimly towards the door, where Izumi's father had just walked in.
Her father, now nearing his seventies, looked infinitely older than he had before. After Izumi's mother had passed, he had spent all of his time in his study, absolutely alone. Izumi's attempts to comfort him, or perhaps ask for comfort, hadn't yielded much more than wordless embraces or fits of grief.
Her father approached her, his face a mix of grief and unease.
"Izumi… There's someone here to see you."
"What? Who?"
Zuko smiled, as if he was privy to a joke that Izumi wasn't aware of.
"An old friend. Bring Iroh."
Suspicious, Izumi tapped her son on the shoulder, nodding towards the door. Together, they wove their way through the clusters of nobles, politicians, and so-called 'friends' that in reality, wanted nothing more than to create a favorable impression with the Fire Lord.
Her father held open the door. Outside, on a large patio, a singular figure, with long, gray hair streaked with white stood, facing the expansive Capital City. The figure, while seemingly old, stood with an unusually good posture indicative of a strong physique- like her father or Uncle Sokka.
As they quietly entered the patio, the figure looked back, revealing a face that Izumi had seen long, long ago.
"Hello, niece," said Azula. "It's been quite a while."
Izumi nodded, reluctant.
"Why are you here?" she asked.
Azula, who by all accounts was a beautiful yet cold pariah, smiled sadly. Izumi didn't have to know the elusive Princess to know that such a thing was exceedingly rare.
"I had to say goodbye to… to Mai."
Izumi glanced at her father. The old man looked at his sister with something resembling vague mistrust and pent-up emotion.
"Why have you come only now? Where have you been?" he asked, almost angry.
Azula smirked.
"It's like you and Uncle did when we were teenagers, Zuzu. I'm living the simple life in the Earth Kingdom. I travel a lot, just wandering."
Zuko was silent, grasping Izumi's shoulder.
"You will always have a place here, Azula. You're a member of this family too. Come, return to our home and settle down. You would be of great use here."
Azula closed her eyes, smiling.
"Thank you, Zuko, but no. The world has too much to offer me for me to settle down. Perhaps someday, I'll put down roots, like you and Uncle."
She glanced at Iroh, who looked at her with an almost clinical expression.
"Speaking of Uncle, you must be Iroh."
Iroh nodded once, simply.
"I see you've chosen your path already. I'm impressed, Izumi. You and your husband have raised quite an impressive boy."
Izumi thanked her quietly.
"Have you seen her yet?" Zuko asked.
Azula nodded.
"I saw the grave. Is Ty Lee in there?"
Izumi glanced back towards the large building and nodded once more.
Azula sighed.
"I'll have to see her at another time."
And like that, the Princess of the Fire Nation hugged her brother, then her niece. Then, wordlessly, she walked away, as mysterious as ever.
Hey, everyone!
So unfortunately, this will be one of the last updates that comes out of me until at least Thanksgiving. I've just moved in to my apartment, and the new semester starts next week, so I'll be pretty swamped.
There's a chance that I can get some updates done this week and very, very sporadically throughout the school year, but don't hold your breath.
I know many of you really like this series, and I do too, so stand firm with the knowledge that I have no intention of ending this story until I give it the full arc. And I'm not very close to that; I plan to take Fire Lord Izumi's story all the way through all four books of Korra, and perhaps a little bit after.
Until next time, folks,
IGdude117