A/N: Apologies that this one is so short.
26. Spring
They call her Izumi, the spring that followed winter. Born on the day the fire lilies bloomed, bright flames that burned orange and red in the palace gardens, she comes into this world kicking and screaming in declaration of her existence, laying claim to life. Everything about her is so vibrant—dark hair a tuft of grass upon her hair and soft skin flushed pink—the true embodiment of new life, no name quite so fitting.
"You're getting tears on the baby," Mai says softly, leaning her head on his shoulder. Zuko kisses her cheek.
He had believed for the longest time, feared even longer, that a curse plagued the roots of his family tree, and made the fathers incapable of paternal affection, shutting their sons and daughters away like the white imperial robes and curtains, only to be brought out in the event of death. He feared that he would lock himself away, retreat into the dark recesses of isolation, terrified of apathy and regret. Zuko considers himself immeasurably blessed to have proved himself wrong.
For after the midwife cleans her up, the umbilical cord cut, and the baby swaddled, when they finally take their newborn daughter in their arms, Zuko concludes that this, right here, with fingers that can just barely curl round his finger, and two tiny feet the size of his thumb, is truly love at first sight.