Disclaimer: The following chapter is entirely fictitious. Any similarity to the history of any person living or dead is entirely coincidental and unintentional, except when specifically noted otherwise in the cast and crew credits. All celebrity voices are impersonated and no celebrities have endorsed any aspect of this fic.

Chapter twenty-five (wow, this is the longest story I've written. Smiles!): The Sword Shop

'-'

The day went by surprisingly fast. The orange sun was setting over the dingy Engoku, but who was to enjoy it? "How long do you think this will take us?" Zuko asked Iroh, as they waited for their food.

"I am not entirely sure," he sighed. Maybe about two or three days."

"Zuko?" Hiashi asked cautiously from the doorway. She wasn't allowed to eat with them along with the rest of the crew, but she didn't mind. It was facing an angry Zuko on an empty stomach that bothered her. "I have the time and site."

"What the hell are you waiting outside for?" he barked. "Get in here and tell me what you have!" She hastily walked in, trying not to dig herself a deeper grave.

"I don't know how you'll accept this," she sighed.

"I won't know until you tell me."

She sighed again. "After painstaking conundrum deciphering, I have come up with the time variation. It was exceedingly peculiar-."

"Get on with it," he said impatiently.

"They'll be residing there for the day. The eccentric thing is that every hour there is two and a half minutes." He gave her a blank stare. "So every twenty-four hours here is an hour there."

"You're kidding me, right?" he growled.

"I wish I was, damn, I wish I was. But that's what I came up with. They can only relax for about five hours, so we'll just have to play the waiting game."

"You can't be serious!" he snarled, jumping to his feet.

"I've been doing this for years," Hiashi groaned. "Why do I have to keep assuring people I know what I'm doing?"

He groaned loudly, falling back into his seat. "Damn it." He sighed. "I guess we have more time to prepare for whatever we're up against now. Damn it, are you-."

"I am definite. Don't you think I'm irate too? I don't want to be here also. At least—never mind, it's not imperative," she said, shaking her head. "Look, now you know. It at least allots us time to relax. Maybe sleep in for once-."

"Sleep in?" He laughed. "There's no such thing on my ship. We're going to work until we can finally get the damn Avatar and I can go home and put this whole damn thing behind me."

She glared at him. "It'll never be that unproblematic," she said. "No matter how tough you endeavor, it will still be there. It can be thirty years from now, but it will still disturb you. It might even come back, even though you thought it was over with."

"What's your place to tell me that?" he snarled at her.

"I'm telling you the veracity of it. Take it from someone who knows." She turned on her heel and limped out.

"Why must you be so hard on her?" Iroh asked him.

"She's a real bitch," he answered bluntly. "It's your fault she's here in the first place. I'll be happy to just get rid of her."

"All she's trying to do is help you out. Why can't you cut her a break?"

"I don't do that with my crew, what makes you think I'll do it with her?"

Iroh moaned. There's no use getting through to him. He's just too stubborn.

'-'

As the night sky was slowly becoming dawn, Hiashi was outside on the back of the ship. If I do, then I could get killed. If I don't… I'm not going to die in peace. I need a sense of closure. She sighed. "I am so going to regret this." She slowly and quietly walked to the front. She held tightly to a thin blade of metal she stole earlier from the ship, hoping that this would give her some sort of protection. Being as quiet as she could, she jumped off of the boat, landing on soil she was hoping to never set foot on again. She slowly stood up, taking in her surroundings. She envisioned how she use to walk down these dirt road, how they were bustling with sea dogs, merchants, pirates, traders, and anyone in general. She sighed. No one was in the streets, but she knew it was a matter of time before she ran into someone she knew. She hurried off to do what she came for.

After about twenty minutes or so of searching, she found what she was looking for. But now it was nothing. It had been diminished to a pile of dust and ashes. She walked over the wreckage of her childhood home, careful not to make any noises. As far as many knew, she had perished in the fire along with her father. She scanned over everything, trying to remember where was what.

Over here was the entrance. There was the kitchen. Father's room was all over there… Mine's right here. She walked over to what use to be her room and just stood there. She could remember the day clearly. She was trying to practice a new song on the violin her father had made her when suddenly her room had been engulfed in flames. She could remember fighting off the Fire Navy officer, remembering the face of her father's killer. That was the worst day in her life. She fell to the ground. She knew she wouldn't find anything, but something told her to. She lifted up a piece of rubble and started to look for anything that might have survived.

"You moron," she choked. "Nothing survived. It all smoldered away alongside your purpose. You should have let them kill you. You are a letdown. Your father died because of you, your mother died because of you, Kyyoku died because of you. I'll bet even Zuko will die because of you. Maybe Iroh, the crew; you're an enticement for death, Hiashi. Maybe that's why he abhors you so much." She ran her hands in the fine soil when her fingers dusted upon something soft. She pulled out the item from the wreckage to reveal a battered up doll.

It was a bit charred, but still in fine condition. It had faded light brown hair with beautiful gold eyes. It wore a red oriental dress with gold trimming and had kanji decorating the silk fabric, and black wooden sandals. The doll was smiling after all of these months. "Faia?" she choked. She could remember her. It was apart of a set of world collection dolls that were banned for controversy between the races. The dolls were created and filled with Chamomile in order to make children with night terrors fall asleep easy. Her father only bought it for her because her mind would replay the day her mother was killed. It was a curse on her. The doll didn't help, but for the longest time, the doll was her only friend. "I can't believe she survived." She cradled the charred doll in her arms, careful not to destroy it any more than it was now. She stood up and was about to leave when something pale caught her eye from under the rubble. She kicked up the board the object was hiding under to make a gruesome discovery: a skull.

She fell to her knees again, carefully putting her doll down. "Oh my god…" She didn't die in the fire; the two Fire Navy officers made it out alive; there was only one person it could have been: her father's. She began to shake, her breath taken out of her. "Oh me god," was all she could say. She picked the skull up and examined it. There was a crack running down the center and another on the side, but other than that, it was in fine condition. "Father, I am so remorseful. God, I should have been better to you. But, again, you also were an idiot at some time. Culpability is not a pretext to tolerate what I did. But… I know how you felt. You undertook everything, but to no avail. We are mutually fatalities to this…" She stared into oblivion for a minute until deciding on something unforeseen. She picked up the doll and left; with her father's skull still in hand.

'-'

"Why are you so quiet?" Zuko asked, actually sounding curious. "Usually you're complaining about me or something else."

"What, do you desire me to carp?" she asked.

"No, I like this silence."

"Then don't nitpick."

He glared at her. "You're such a bitch."

"Don't I know it," she smirked. Sparks flew from his finger, but he left it at that. He didn't want to waste his precious time on her. He walked off of the ship along with the rest of the crew and his uncle. While the rest of them restocked their supplies, he and Iroh were free to look around at the shops. Not like he wanted to purchase anything. They were no further than a hundred feet from the ship when someone called out to them.

"Hey," a female's voice called from a stand, "you two look like Navy. I'm sure you could use some fine metal work." Zuko turned to look at who called him. She had to be the oddest person he had ever seen.

She looked about seventeen. Her hair was the color of dried blood, cut short and spiked up an inch above her head. A few strands were saved and braided behind her head. Her skin was tanned, looking like she had been out in the sun for a long time. She had a black eye patch across her right eye, only leaving a blue eye out. She wore a grey oriental sleeveless shirt with black pants similar to Hiashi's. She did have muscle, twirling a long heavy looking sword between her fingers. "Care to look around?"

"No thanks," he said. "I have better-."

"Prince Zuko," Iroh said to him, "you have to look at these swords."

"Prince, eh?" she asked, slightly amused. "Can you answer me a question? Why don't royalty fight the war? Why do they always send the people who don't matter?"

"How the hell should I know?" he snapped. "I don't run the country!"

"You're the prince," she said unbelieving. "See anything you like?"

"This one's mighty handsome," Iroh said, admiring a short saber with a black dragon engraved into the handle.

"Made of pure silver," she said proudly. "All of my swords, knives and short sabers are handcrafted and have a lifetime guarantee."

"Wow, I don't care," Zuko mumbled.

"You should see one in action," the girl said. She picked up a shiny one with a black handle, and in one swift movement, she broke off a post on her shop. "That's not all this can do," she smiled. "It can be transferred to extreme heat to cold temperatures and vice versa without damage or breakage."

"I'm sure they can," Zuko sneered sarcastically.

"Don't believe me?" she questioned. She kicked up a flask of water off the floor, and with skill, she bended the water onto the sword, freezing it.

"You're a waterbender?" Iroh asked.

"Who gives a fuck if I am?" she replied rudely. With another strike, she broke all of the ice off of the sword and chucked it into the hearth where some swords layed with such accuracy. The sword began to heat up, but there was still no damage. "Believe me now, prince?"

"Whatever," he mumbled.

"This is a very interesting cane," Iroh interrupted, now examining a three-foot cane with a strange design running down the side. In the middle, it was a triangle cut in half with a line with three curves (I won't know how to explain it. It's sort of like a curvy M). Running up and down were arrows interlinked with each other, all engraved with gold. The handle was jet black with more kanji in it.

"Cane, yes," the girl smiled again. "But like all of us, it has a secret." Iroh was still holding onto it when she pulled at the handle, revealing a thin two-foot sword. "I run a sword shop, not a cane store."

"That can be very handy," Iroh said in amazement.

"The sword may look flimsy, but check this out." With all of her strength, she slammed the sword into the wall next to her. "Go ahead, prince, try to pull it out." He gave her a confused look, but gave the sword a tug. It wouldn't come out. He gave it a few harder jerks, but it wouldn't budge. "What'd I tell you," she smirked, pulling the sword out as if it were stuck in butter. "My swords are made of the strongest metals. And its sheaves are made of nothing but the strongest. Like this one for instance." She took the rest of the cane from Iroh. "It's made from the wood of a Deku tree, the finest wood you'll ever find. It doesn't get old, flame resistant, and strong." She slammed it against a sword, but nothing happened. "This thing's just about as strong as the sword."

"Zuko," Iroh said slyly, "why don't you get it for her?"

"The hell I won't!" he snapped. "I'll die before I do!"

"Go on. You've been treating her terribly."

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" he growled. He grabbed him by the sleeve and dragged him a few feet away from the stand. "Why the hell should I buy that for her? She's not going to need it!"

"Have you seen that limp she's developed? And she doesn't feel safe here. And you dragged her here, so this is the least you can do for her."

"I hate her! Why must you keep insisting I be nice to her?"

"You owe it to her," he said seriously. "I don't know what shot at her, but the cane's nice and I'm sure she'd appreciate it. And besides, if it wasn't for her, you would never have been able to figure out where the Avatar is. She has put in so much assistance into this, you owe it to her. Just get her the cane." His hand flamed up, but he didn't say anything. Iroh smiled. He walked over to the stand. "We'll take the cane."

"The hell, if I ever do something nice again, I swear I'll- what's that?" he said, looking up at a brilliant looking saber with a gold dragon wounded up to from a handle, along with another dragon wrapped around the blade of it.

The girl smirked. "It's my best work," she said. "Made with fourteen-karat gold and pure silver. The handle can be used as a beacon at night. Might not look it, but the dragon is more visible in the dark, using all of the light from its surrounding as a signal, which is why you have to keep it in its sheave when you're not using it." He was about to take a closer look when she stopped him. "Hey," she snapped, with another dagger, slamming it into the wall the sword was resting on, causing it to fall into her hand. And with two drop spins, she tightened her grip on it. "This one's not for sale. But," she smiled, "I can make you a facsimile. Won't take long. About two days."

"What's the price?" he asked cautiously.

"Two-fifty."

"What?"

"Gold pieces. 250 gold pieces is my price. And it's a pretty good one too, considering you can't find one like this anywhere else."

He stared at her, figuring out whether to trust her or not. "I'll take your little deal, but I'm not paying you until I get my sword."

"Smart man," she smiled.

"Come on, uncle, let's go." Iroh followed behind with the cane in hand.

"Are you sure you know what you were doing?" he asked.

"If I've learned anything from that bitch, I've learned that the definition of facsimile is an exact copy. I didn't pay her, so I don't see anything wrong."

Iroh smiled in his head. So she has taught you something?

'-'

"Sureiyaa," Shiden said, "the line's been hooked. He fell for it."

"No flaws?" Sureiyaa asked.

"Well, there is the minor detail we're lost out 250 gold pieces, but other than that, it's all fixed."

"That's perfect," Sureiyaa smirked from the shadow of the office. "I've missed Yanki, haven't you? She was so much fun to beat and stress. It's like watching a fly with half of its body smashed into the floor. Instead of killing it, it's just more fun to watch it suffer and slowly die of the pain. And if it doesn't die, it's more fun to watch it struggle."

"She was such an easy prey," Shiden said.

"Which is why we need her dead," Sureiyaa said seriously. "She's a traitor to my people and she's nothing but a liar." She turned to the map of the world, which still had her short saber in it. "Yanki, once I'm done with you, I will burn the flesh off of your skull and it will be my most prized trophy. Prince Zuko will have to suffer the loss, but what do we care? As far as we know, he hates you. Maybe he'll take a swing or two. Whatever it is, no one wants you. I'll be quaffing your blood in no more than a few days."

'-'