W o w . Talk about inbox-review EXPLOSION. Thank you oh so much to everyone that reviewed, that chapter, was probably one of my favorites, considering that humor has never really been my style of writing. As for this chapter, I had decided to experiment with something postwar. It may not be the best, but it's a shot at redeemed!Azula and hospitalized!Ozai. Tell me what you think.
Like Father, Like Daughter
By Nikkel
(c) to Nickelodeon, Michael Dante DiMartino, and Bryan Konietzko
Learning to Crawl
The sun that beamed down on Dragon Isle was bright and warm, carrying the beautiful summer radiance that naturally came with the free-spirited season. Many residents of the Dragon Isle Mental Facility were out on the flourishing green lawn, enjoying the day. Those that bended especially took the opportunity to practice their skills, bending with the earth, and rejuvenating their souls.
Among the patients outside was Ozai. He did not take the opportunity to bend, however—he knew firmly well that he couldn't bend, for the Avatar had stolen those powers away from him. He scowled underneath the shade of a tree, refusing to participate or interact with anyone. This was proving difficult, though, for his own daughter stood in front of him. He pouted like a petulant child.
"Come on," Azula said, extending a hand. "Just take a walk with me. Because I know you can still do that."
The kindness in her voice was sickening to him. What had happened to the dragon he had raised her to be? She had been visiting him on Dragon Isle for the past several weeks, informing him about things he didn't care about—his son's wedding, the reconstruction and re-establishment of the Earth Kingdom, the foundation of the Airbending Academy—simple events like these were all Azula talked about. She didn't talk about revenge or the assassination of her brother like he had hoped she would when she first visited him. Ozai thought that she may have been brainwashed—he knew all about the Dai Li's conspiracy on Ba Sing Se—and wouldn't have been surprised. The Avatar certainly would have been cruel enough to wipe her memory clean, given that he had taken the Fire Lord's bending away. What perhaps disgusted Ozai the most was how nice she was being to him, and it significantly reminded him of a certain someone from both of their pasts.
"Of course I can still walk," Ozai growled, coming forth from the shade. He looked shiftily around. "I just don't like all these idiots around me. They make me look weak."
"Good," Azula replied nonchalantly. "Walking through them will teach you a lesson in humility."
Ozai frowned, and began to follow her around the grounds. The sun shone down so his silver hairs were visible in his head and beard. "And what do you know about humility?"
"I've learned that it can teach you a knew way to firebend."
"What? Who told you this?"
"Zuko."
"Ha, figures. It's a weaker way of bending, isn't it? You know, the ancient ways. Pathetic and useless."
"Not entirely. Uncle Iroh has also mastered the form. Last time I checked, you could never beat him in a match."
"If you're intending to imply that my form is weaker than his, then you also know that you're weak. Last time I checked you could never beat Zuko in a match."
Azula glared darkly at him, but her tone was soft. "I don't care about that anymore."
"And why not?!" Ozai shouted, flabbergasted.
"Because that new form—the one Zuko and Uncle know—is the one I've been taught." She looked away from him and closed her eyes in concentration. "And it's the one I want to teach you."
"You know I can't bend, that stupid Avatar—"
"It's not about having the ability to bend. If you shut up and listen to me for a moment maybe you'll learn something."
Ozai closed his mouth.
"It's not about having the ability to bend. It's about believing that you do. When Zuko first came to me and I started to… change, I couldn't bend. But he taught me how to again."
Ozai rolled his eyes. "You apparently don't understand my situation," he said firmly, stopping in his tracks. He then realized they had crossed the lawn, embarrassing himself, and he had not even realized it. He looked accusingly at his daughter.
"I figured that bringing you out here would be the most convienient place to practice," Azula stated.
"Like I have anything to practice," Ozai snorted.
"Just go through the form with me. It's a little different from what you're used to, but…"
Ozai crossed his arms defiantly. "All right, but you'll have to show me first."
Azula nodded, and Ozai noticed a familiar determination in her eyes. He took a couple of steps back to give the firebender her space. She stood in the ready position for a few seconds, slowly inhaling and exhaling, igniting the fiery chi stored in her gut. She then moved to the right and began to go through a series of motions that Ozai had never seen her do before. Instead of the razor-sharp attacks stapled by rage and precision, Azula's moves were clean and smooth, flowing like a silk ribbon in the wind. Ozai yearned to call her slow, for the form was more melodic than fierce, with only miniscule licks of flames sprouting from her fingers, and orange flames at that. What had happened to the prodigy's signature bluebell fire?
As the kata went along, transforming into something that was more waterbender than firebender, it occurred to Ozai that perhaps his daughter had recovered, that maybe Azula had changed all on her own. She hadn't been convicted of any crimes, on the account of mental instability. This slight instability was seen in the new form, her hand gracing out in one place and twitching, so a look of annoyance crossed her features and she redid the move. The kata was more of a dance than anything else, elegant and liquid, even with her twitching, like ripples in the water. Ozai raised an eyebrow when she was finished, returning to the starting position.
"That's it?" he scoffed. "Looks rather simple."
"Not quite. I haven't fully completed it. It's rather complicated."
"Why do you want to teach me this, Azula?" Ozai asked, suspicious, and looked at her directly. A brief look of shame and hurt crossed her features before she stared down at her toes, hands behind her back. "Well?"
She looked up at him with large, topaz eyes. "Because you're my father."
Ozai was taken aback. He had not expected such an honest answer, and there was no hiding the pleading tone in her voice. Blinking rapidly, Ozai tried to recall a day that Azula hadn't looked up to him, hadn't seen him as a teacher, but a father. He could hardly remember what it was like to be a parent, but as Azula stood there, the memories of happy times came washing back, when she was nothing more than a babe that had yet to blossom in his arms. All that was different now was that their roles were reversed, with him as the student and his daughter as the master.
"I… suppose I could learn it. Not that it would be of any use to me, considering that I can't—"
But instead of finishing his sentence, he took a surprised step back as Azula ran up and hugged him, arms around his neck, her head buried in his chest. He heard her crying. He patted her on the back, and slowly, brought his own arms around her, cradling her as if she were a child again.