A shorty but a goody. Monday is my birthday, too! Happy birthday to me! Whoop whoop!

She didn't want to follow him; her Master had specifically said to stay away from him, but Akira's grip was strong and she knew that she couldn't strike him. Hitting him—even firebending at him purely for self-defense—would be immediately reported to Zhao. And, even though she was sure that he would understand, he would be disappointed with her. Akira would probably directly confront her owner, too. Assuming the yellow-eyed Admiral was a traditionalist, he would consider her actions aggressive, perhaps a result of bad breeding or improper training. He could issue a demand—suggest a punishment where he could spectate or request for her life, outright.

Koori had no reason to believe that the officer wrapping his arm around her waist was nothing less than the monster Zhao said he was. So, she held her breath and let him walk her directly toward a tent. A pair of attentive guards was standing outside the canvas flap and they parted the moment the yellow-eyed Admiral and slave approached. Each one looked at the other while the terrified girl was led inside; though, neither one said anything. They had seen this scenario before and winced, knowing that the girl wouldn't be coming out alive.

One calloused digit at a time, Akira released the trembling girl. He pulled a chair from the side of the tent and put it directly in front of the large wooden table that was in the center of the canvas room.

"Sit," he demanded.

Without arguing, Koori sat on the wooden chair. It creaked under her weight, unnerving her immensely.

"Now," Akira's fingers fondled the hilt of the broadswords that were still strapped around her back, "why don't you let me have these?"

"I…I can't let you have them," the slave stuttered, clutching the leather strap between her breasts. No, if Akira confiscated them, she would be forced to return to her Master and explain why she was sword-less. He would get angry—probably accuse her of helping Zuko escape the explosion, even. And then he would scour the woods and ocean for the boy until he could confirm that he was dead…or alive. So, she needed to keep Zuko's broadswords nearby, preferably on her person until she could present them to her owner.

"And why not?"

"Because…" Koori bit her lip. She couldn't tell him anything.

"That's not a good reason, little fish," he smirked. "Appease me. Be a good slave and put them on the table."

Begrudgingly, she complied. And when the swords were finally on the table, Akira walked around the frightened girl and sat in his lush desk chair. He put his elbows on the tabletop, fingers interlaced below his chin as he glanced at the lone picture on his desk, smiling at the image before focusing solely on the curiosity in front of him. The frightened girl was intriguing; she could control white fire and had captivated his son's interest. He needed to know more about her, even if his son had no desire to appease his insatiable appetite.

"Y-you wanted to t-talk?" Her lips were chattering. She was cold and scared, and none of this made sense. Why did Akira want to talk to her? He didn't even know her.

With a sigh, the officer stood and rummaged through a short dresser. He pulled a towel out of a drawer and handed it to her; though, she didn't reach out for it. Instead, she leered at it, wondering what sort of gesture the man was making.

"You're a weak little firebender, aren't you? Take it. Use it to dry yourself off and keep yourself warm. I wouldn't want to return you to Zhao…damaged."

Trembling fingers reached up, and Koori immediately started unwrapping the towel, coiling it around her shoulders so she could take complete advantage of its drying capacity.

"Thank you."

"Manners," Akira chuckled. "Zhao taught you well. How delightful." He returned to his chair and resumed his position, fingers interlaced under his chin. "Now, little fish, why don't you tell me a bit about yourself?"

Wincing, Koori thought back to a few days ago, when Iroh had asked the same type of question. However, when the ex-General had asked it, it certainly didn't sound so threatening. Iroh had been fascinated with her and wanted to start a civil conversation. This felt more like an interrogation.

"There's nothing to tell," she said, snuggling into the warm towel.

Akira snorted. "Oh, I doubt that." His hands fell to the table. "A firebending slave is rare. A firebending slave born from a Water Tribe woman and a Fire Nation man is unheard of."

"Hmm?"

"Tell me that you're an unholy product of a man getting a little overzealous."

"E-excuse me?"

Tilting his head, Akira's eyes narrowed. "Conceiving a firebending child without a Fire Nation woman is impossible. Frankly, children of fire…burn a little hotter in the womb," he said, smiling. "Your mother wouldn't have been able to survive without assistance. Now, tell me that she was just lucky to have survived the entirety of her pregnancy and your birth. Tell me that your treasonous father didn't stick around." His fingers were clenching tightly while he spoke. Koori could only watch his knuckles whiten while the lantern on the corner of the table burned brighter.

"I…I don't remember," she lied. "Master found me when I was small."

Her admission seemed to appease him. "Yes, I suppose you would've been about four."

The candlelight dimmed and Koori looked at him, confused. "How…how do you know that?"

Akira smirked. "Zhao told me, of course."

Koori pressed her back tightly against the chair, confused. To her knowledge, her owner didn't like to talk about her unless he was conversing with Leo. She was a secret—a well-kept secret, at that. Though, Zhao had been taking her out more often, which had probably piqued the curiosity of the other officers. Is that why Akira was suddenly interested in her? Did Zhao brag about his favorite possession?

"Oh, don't worry, little fish," he sighed, waving his hand. "I had to pry the information out of him. Honestly, he's very…protective when it comes to you. It's rather unlike him."

He smiled; it was a creepy, secretive smile that Koori automatically didn't like.

"Can…can I go, now? I'm sure that Master is—"

"Why don't you tell me about your magical fire—the white one that you unleashed in the arena today. I touched a bit of it and I didn't get burned."

"I…I don't know what you're talking about. It…it j-just happened."

Sensing a lie, Akira's eyes narrowed and he scrutinized the young girl. "Don't lie to me, girl," he urged.

"I've never done that before!" Koori exclaimed. "I…I don't know what happened!"

Yellow eyes couldn't detect a single fib with her outburst and he resettled himself. "Fair enough," he grumbled. "Now, what ab—"

"I have to go back. Master is probably worried—"

Akira slammed the table. "Zhao is fine," he sneered, delighted with how high the slave jumped. "He's got the world by the balls right now. And I'm sure that he's spending his evening reveling with his victory."

"Which is why I should be getting back. He did fight for my return."

Akira's grotesque smile lengthened, lips curling around threatening teeth. "Oh, yes. He did do that, didn't he?" He rapidly pushed his chair back and strutted around the table, pulling a single broadsword out of its sheath. Delicately, he placed the tip of the blade against Koori's throat. "Tell me, little fish…" he said, scowling at her petrified terror. "Tell me why he fought for you. You, a filthy piece of half-bred, Water Tribe garbage."

"I…I don't know." She was afraid to breathe. Every single breath pushed the blade deeper into her skin. She was fearful that the sharp edge would cut her, but Akira's practiced hand never let the sword get deep enough.

"He cares about you," the man spat, pressing the tip against her throat a little harder. Any more pressure and the skin would sever, but he was careful to pull the blade back. "He's getting distracted, little fish. And I can't have that. You're a distraction; a pretty one, but a distraction, nonetheless."

"W-why do you c-care?"

"I didn't raise him to get sidetracked by a pair of golden eyes and big tits. He needs to focus on his status and find a wife when this ridiculous incursion is over. I'm getting old and I need to see my lineage extended."

Koori's eyes widened, her brain going over only a few of Akira's words. 'I didn't raise him…I need to see my lineage extended.' Was Akira…? No, he couldn't be…could he?

Golden irises darted around the yellow-eyed Admiral's facial features. Zhao and Akira shared a few physical characteristics and she could only gape at him. Her eyes rested on the side of the officer's neck and she watched a familiar angry vein pulsate.

"Are…are you his—"

"Father, little fish," Akira interrupted, brandishing another horrendous smile. He slid the broadsword around her neck. The sharpened edge of the blade was pressed tightly against her collar and he leaned down so he could whisper in her ear. "Let me tell you a story, Koori." His tongue darted out of his mouth and he licked her exposed earlobe, which caused the girl to twitch backward.

"I…I don't want to hear it," she whimpered. This was the man who raised a monster—her monster—and she could only imagine what kind of person Akira truly was. She had to bite back bile when his lips pressed against her cheek.

"You don't get a choice." He continued to place soft caresses against her face, drawing his kisses downward until he found her lips. Clenching her mouth closed, he pecked her lips and withdrew, pleased. "You taste like peaches," he grumbled, amused. Yes, he had heard the rumors that his son bought his slave luxurious fruits. Zhao certainly spoiled his favorite possession.

"I need to go," Koori murmured. "Please let me go. Please." Zhao sometimes liked it when she begged; maybe his father would, too.

"Not without listening to my story." He leaned down once more, gently biting her trembling bottom lip. "So tasty," he commented, enjoying her fear.

"Tell your tale and let me leave," Koori snapped. Zhao wouldn't like what was happening. She was his and his alone. It didn't matter that Akira was his father, she knew her place. If Akira managed to get overenthusiastic, she could only imagine what kind of trouble she would be in. Zhao somehow smelled Zuko and Iroh on her skin, even though neither of them really touched her. And if Akira decided to strip her—rape her, even—Zhao's nose would wrinkle the moment she walked through his door. He would know what happened…and he would be irate. She was his…she was his.

"Feisty little fish," he hungrily huffed. "I see why my son likes you so much."

"Please stop." She closed her eyes, willing him away. Please just leave me alone. Please, please just stop.

"It's funny that you said that," Akira smiled. "Zhao's last distraction said that before I made him kill her."

Golden eyes burst open and she stared at the yellow-eyed officer, horrified. Akira's smile lengthened once more and he slowly pressed the blade against her neck, slicing into her white skin. A fine line of blood dribbled down her collarbone and into her shirt, disappearing between her breasts. Satisfied with her fear, the Admiral started his story.

"I had a wife," he growled. "She was a pretty little thing that I didn't really care about. You see, I was born into a noble and respectable family and my own parents sought to strengthen our bloodline with an arranged marriage." An earth-shattering sound escaped his throat as he laughed. "I never would have agreed to such a thing because of my…eccentricities." He frowned and then hummed. "I have a rather precarious affinity for the sound of screaming; it's like music to my ears and I can never get enough of it.

"But, my parents thought that they could cure my obsessions with a kind-hearted woman. Leiko was…" he paused and carefully considered his words. "Leiko was…nice—everything a noblewoman should have been: faithful, articulate, commonly pretty, and nimble. But, she was extraordinarily hard to manipulate. I could never sway her to my side and it didn't take her long to figure out that our paths didn't align.

"Even though we didn't care for each other, we did our marital duties and she birthed a son. She thought that I would change the moment I saw him. She thought that I would get rid of my slaves and my pets when his hazel eyes locked onto mine. Oh, how horribly wrong that woman was. So naïve…so young.

"When I first looked at Zhao, I immediately saw him for what he was. He was everything. My flesh, my blood, my…everything. And I wanted to keep him that way.

"But Leiko had the advantage of being with him all the time since I had to leave my boy behind when I returned to the warfront. Zhao grew up without my influence, nurtured by a soft-hearted woman behind my back.

"Back then, I was a novice Admiral—the youngest one in Fire Nation history. With a lot of coaxing, I was able to procure four weeks of leave, and I made sure to spend each available second with my boy. I took him to the Earth Kingdom, away from my darling wife so I could teach him the ins and outs of hunting, disemboweling his prey, and preserving the flesh. And, when Zhao was eight, I taught him how to hunt women."

"Mmmm." Koori winced when the broadsword cut into her once more. Another line of blood traveled down her neck and into her tunic. Akira leaned down and licked the red trail up, flicking his tongue across his lips as he continued.

"He was good at it, too. Eight years old and already killing his fair share of Earth Kingdom peasant women. As a father, I was so proud of my little boy.

"But, after my time was up, he had to go back to Leiko's nurturing arms. She twisted him up and told him that life was precious—that it should be protected," he spat. "He was being distracted with her ridiculous lessons. And when my boy was ten, I couldn't stand the vile words he was spewing…"

Akira stood in the center of his estate's courtyard, leering at his son as the boy told him off—told him that he didn't want to accompany him on this year's trip to the Earth Kingdom.

"I don't want to go!" Zhao screamed, stomping his foot into the lush, grass-covered ground. "Mom said that what we do…what you do, isn't right. She said that you're a monster!" He pointed a small finger at his father and folded his arms across his chest as his hazel eyes glared.

Mouth twitching at his flesh-and-blood's words, Akira looked up at the house beyond his son. He was tired of this battle—he had to fight in the war and he refused to fight at home. His boy was being turned against him and he couldn't continue to live like this. Leiko would pay for her treachery, and he knew the perfect way to do it, too.

"Stand aside," he barked, marching past his son.

Zhao stood his ground, a determined scowl on his face. Akira pushed him to the side and strutted into the home that he paid for, the home of his ancestors, and the future home of his son's offspring.

He found his wife sitting in her library, reading a play about princes, dragons…and only Agni knew what else. Leiko was a constant pain and she needed to be shown what happened to women who didn't know their place.

Though, he couldn't treat her like a slave. No, legally, she was his wife—his matrimonial partner til death split them apart. Death, he thought with a smile, enjoying the concept. He quickly pushed the idea aside, scoffing at his momentary lapse of good judgement. Killing her would be murder in the Fire Nation's eyes; his title and estate couldn't protect him if she was found dead. So, he was resigned to teach her a lesson; something harmless and small, but terrifying, nonetheless.

He stood in the doorway for a moment, watching her with his yellow and predatory eyes. When the lone moment passed, he sprinted inside and grabbed her arm, twisting it above her head while she screamed.

What a delicious melody, he thought, enjoying the sound.

Leiko was struggling against him, calling him foul names as she clawed at his fingers.

"Unhand me you son of a—"

He smashed her face against the wall and she bounced to the floor, her nose broken. Not caring, Akira latched onto her arm once more and hauled her outside, tossing her to the ground in front of his son's feet.

"M-m-mom?" Zhao stuttered, running to his mother and wrapping his arms around her neck. Leiko looked at her son and shielded her nose, trying to protect him from the sight of her battered face.

Akira looked at the pair, his face grim. Huffing at the scene, he pulled a knife from his breastplate and tossed it to the ground. The blade sunk into the earth, golden hilt gleaming in the sun.

"Zhao," he said, catching his son's arm and pulling it toward him. "It's time that you grew up, son. Now, I want you to do something for me."

Zhao's hazel eyes bounced from his father to his mother. Akira tugged him and he stared at his father. "W-what do y-you want?"

"I need you to cut her, son."

"Akira, no!" Leiko gasped. "You can't…you—"

"I can do what I want, wretch!" Akira screamed, causing the boy in his arms to squirm.

"Father…father, let me go," he begged.

Like a vice, Akira's grip was firm and Zhao's struggles were nothing. "Cut her," he demanded, reaching for the knife. He plucked it from the ground and shoved it into his son's trembling fingers. "Your mother is a distraction, boy. She's been filling your head with lies and you need to teach her that it's wrong to deceive you."

"B-but—" Zhao looked at his injured mother. She wouldn't lie to him; no, she'd done nothing other than show him kindness. Was…was kindness a distraction? Was it a weakness?

"Do it," Akira snarled, pushing him forward.

Leiko looked at her husband, tears filling her eyes. "Please stop," she begged. "Please…please stop."

"Do it!"

Caught in the middle, Zhao threw the knife down and backed away from it. Akira quickly walked to him and knelt, clasping both of his shoulders in another vice-like grip. "Son, you and I…we have fun on our trips, don't we?" he asked. Hesitantly, the young boy nodded. "Good," Akira smiled. "Good boy. Now," he looked at the crying woman behind him. She was such a worthless piece of flesh. "Now, do as I say and cut her. It doesn't need to be deep, son. Just…teach her where she belongs. Show her that she shouldn't fill your head with such swill. One cut, son. That's all I'm asking for—one slice and you're done."

In a flash, the knife was back in Zhao's shaking hands. Akira pushed him forward, guiding him to Leiko's hunched-over form.

Zhao stood before his mother, his face scrunched together as he tried to ignore his mother's sobs. All he needed to do was cut her one time. His father had spent all of his childhood teaching him where the appropriate spots were. He knew which areas would only maim and which would kill. And he had certainly killed someone on more than one occasion. So, he stepped forward, staring at his mother's pain.

He remembered when his father took him hunting—back then, it was just animals. They had spent the majority of the night hiding in a tree, bows wedged in their frozen fingers as they waited for large game. When the platypus-bear had wandered into their line of vision, Zhao immediately released his bowstring and the animal went down with a hefty thud. They had scrambled out of the tree and cautiously walked up to their prey. Akira made sure to keep his boy back in case the animal took one final lunge at his predators. The beast groaned at their approach, too tired and injured to do much else. 'Good job, son,' Akira had said. 'He's weak. Put him out of his misery.' And Zhao did just that, slicing the animal's throat with a well-placed cut.

Eyes welling with tears, Zhao took another step toward his mother. In his eyes, she was morphing into that platypus-bear—the injured animal that just needed to be put down. Leiko could never escape her fate; she was always going to be under Akira's thumb, fighting against him whenever she could. All Zhao had to do was strike her…put her out of her misery.

After a single slice across her throat, Zhao's trembling fingers dropped the knife and his mother bled out, clutching her neck like it would stop the blood from dripping into her crimson kimono.

Akira was stunned. His yellow eyes bounced from the pooling blood to the boy and he hastily ripped his son back, pulling him off to the side so they could watch the woman die, together. Though he was subtly pleased with his son's actions, he was deeply troubled. His wife would die from her wound, even if they tried to help her. And, when she took her last breath, the past few moments would be scrutinized by the local authorities. He had to think of something, and he needed to be quick about it.

Patting Zhao's quaking shoulders, Akira whispered, "I'm proud of you, son."

"She died almost immediately after that," Akira said, smiling. "And when she was finally gone, I packed up my son and shipped him off to the best military school in the Fire Nation. He blossomed under the constant tutelage and hardened his resolve. He wanted to be just like me, and I couldn't be prouder of him."

No, Koori thought, gagging. No, none of this is true. Master...he went to the Western Air Temple. He…he…

"Well, little fish," Akira said, frowning. The flat edge of the broadsword pressed against her chest, blade angled up to her chin. "How'd you like my story?"

Gasping, Koori managed to wiggle her chair back, but it didn't help. Akira was still on top of her, leering at her while Zuko's sword pushed dangerously close to her skin.

"Oh," he sighed, enjoying her wriggles, "I suppose that it was a little gruesome. But, I need you to understand." Akira leaned forward and pressed his lips against her ear. She could hear his calm breathing. "You're nothing but a pretty little distraction. If you get in my way—if you get in Zhao's way, even—I'll be sure to kill you. Do you understand?"

She couldn't nod—she couldn't move. Koori could just stare straight ahead, beyond the yellow-eyed Admiral's shoulder.

"I want grandchildren," Akira sneered. "I don't care who he picks, but I'm desperately hoping that it won't be you. You remind me of my darling Leiko—weak and soft-hearted. You're not the kind of woman my boy needs. You'll just continue to addle him and pry him away from what's important." He drew back and glared at the petrified young woman. "Now, you're not going to mutter a single word about what just happened, are you?" He slowly pulled the broadsword back, giving her enough room to move her head if she desired.

Eager to please, she shook her head. "N-no."

"Good girl," he smirked, pulling the blade back even more. "Now, let's get you back to Zh—"

The flap burst open and an irate Zhao stalked inside. His merciless eyes took in the scene: Koori sitting on a chair, a sword to her throat, a pale line of blood dribbling down her alabaster skin. Zhao was seething at the sight.

"Get away from her," he snarled, expertly disarming his father and pushing his slave behind him.

Koori lurched out of her chair and shoved herself in the corner, away from both men. She couldn't think—she could barely breathe. Everything that she had just heard was swimming in her head and she didn't know what to do with the information. A large piece of her wanted to vomit and she would've let the bile flow, but then she'd have to clean up the mess. And she didn't want to spend another moment in Akira's tent.

"Calm down, Zhao," Akira sighed, smirking at his son. "I found her wandering around after the explosion. She's a little banged up, but looks unharmed. I must say, though…blowing up Zuko's ship," he whistled, "I'm impressed."

"I didn't blow up anything," Zhao grunted, reaching behind him for his slave. Unable to find her, he glanced backward. She was pressed tightly in the corner of the tent, breathing erratically. "What did you do to her?"

"Nothing. Isn't that right, little fish?" Yellow eyes flicked to the panting slave and a foul smile graced his face.

She didn't say anything and she was too frightened to move.

"This doesn't look like nothing."

"I…I want to go home," Koori whimpered. She looked at Zhao, her eyes pleading. His eyes instantly softened when he heard her request. "Please…c-can we go h-home?"

Eyes hardening once more, Zhao flipped the broadsword around, aiming it at his father. "If I ever see you alone with her again, it'll be the last thing you do," he snapped. "Mark my words, I will destroy you."

Akira chuckled. "I would expect nothing less, son."

Teeth clenching, the hazel-eyed Admiral sheathed the sword and chucked the strap over his shoulder. He grabbed for his slave and she stepped next to him, making sure to keep herself just outside his reach. She didn't want to be directly next to him right now, not with Akira's story still swirling around her head.

When they were finally out of the tent, Zhao lunged and pulled Koori close. She protested silently, squirming in his hands until she stilled and collapsed against him.

Zhao had always been her monster—the person who kept her captive and tormented her without cause. Throughout her internment, she had never considered the possibility that her owner had demons, too. No, he never said anything about his past. Koori shuddered as his arms wrapped around her waist, securing her protectively against him. Ten-year-old Zhao never stood a chance.

It was short, I know. Here's the part where I usually tell you why I wrote what I did, but we're not gonna do that today. No, I want you to let me know what you thought just happened. And if you do review, I'll give you the missing piece of Akira's story - something that I alluded to in a previous chapter.