50. THE THING ONE HAS TO UNDERSTAND ABOUT MY SISTER IS THAT, YES, SHE'S CRAZY, BUT NOT IN A WAY THAT'S EASY TO UNDERSTAND. I honestly don't even like to use the word crazy to describe what she is. Crazy is an easy word to throw around. It's trite, unwieldy, inexact. Crazy is how people describe that one ex, or how teenagers describe their parents. Crazy is the word husbands use when their wives are mad are them, or vice versa. None of those things even come close to what my sister is. No words do, really. Psychotic, sociopathic, demented, manic, insane, every single one of those collection of characters proves, in the end, woefully inadequate, which is why, I suppose, in the end, I'm always forced to fall back on calling her crazy. There's simply nothing else to do.
So, yes, my sister is crazy, and she's currently sitting in my house, sipping tea, doing that bizarre trick of hers where she glares without glaring, as if for a being as exalted as her to actually glare at someone would be so ludicrous as break one's very mind.
So attempt to establish control over Azula is an exercise in futility, as well as being potentially fatal. All one can really hope to do is to try to establish control over the situation. Remove as much external stimuli as possible. Deprive her of an audience. Make sure there's no one around to snicker if this is a bad day and she starts talking to the voices in her head. Hope and pray that she doesn't actually talk to voices in her head, and that that was just something she used to say to give people the creeps. Put her in a situation where she is given the opportunity to do what she loves best, act superior, play the merciful god. These are the methods of control and containment that I practiced and was well on my way to perfecting during the first eighteen years of my life, and these are the lessons that I find bubbling back up from the deep dark places I had hoped to never see them again as Katara and I lead her back to our house.
It was Azula who suggested that we retire to somewhere more private, no doubt expecting me to play the chivalrous fool and demand that what we had to say, we say in public. I like to think that I surprised her when I leapt at the chance to reduce the number of people who were in danger, but the truth is, I probably didn't. She's Azula, the Golden Child, Daddy's Little Angel of Death. She's always a step ahead, or, at least, she likes to think she is. If playing into that will keep people from dying, if letting her sit in front of my fireplace and drink my tea and sneer at my life will get this over and done with faster, then fine, I'll do it. I'll do it and I'll smile and I put my fist through a wall later.
Anything to get her to go away, because to be honest, I'm done with this bullshit.
It's just the three of us now, occupying chairs in front of the fireplace, where a weak flame gives off more crackling and popping than actual heat. Katara and I sit in our usual places, our chairs turned to face Azula, who lounges easily in what is usually Toph's chair, legs stretched out, casting her glance over the house with a disdainful air, chin out, lazily sipping tea as if she really couldn't be bothered, but just for kicks, she'll play along. I try to mimic her pose, her air of calm and lack of concern, but I can't. I never have. I'm perched on the edge of my chair, absurdly uncomfortable, torn between trying to act cool and knowing that that's just not going to happen.
Katara, showing once again that she's much smarter than I am, doesn't even bother to relax. She sits in her chair, straight-backed, tension vibrating in the corners of her eyes, jaw set, mechanically sipping tea to give her hands something to do. The three of us sit in silence for what feels like an incredibly long time, Azula looking anywhere but at us, us wishing we could look anywhere but at Azula. Finally, Katara sets her cup on its saucer. The soft clink sounds like main mast cracking in a storm. With rigid gestures, Katara places the cup and the saucer on the table before us and brushes her hands down her skirt. She clasps her hands, rests them in her lap, and shoots me what I hope is a smile before turning to Azula and saying, in a calm, friendly voice, "So, welcome to our home, princess."
Katara speaks in Suomi, and my sister reacts in exactly the way I knew she would. She rolls her eyes and huffs, turning to me and snarling in Nihongo, "You don't actually expect me to speak their mongrel tongue, do you?"
I swallow some tea, trying not to show how it tastes like liquid ash in my mouth. I set the cup aside, running a hand through my hair as I say, in the same language, "It is their country, you know."
She snorts, setting her own tea cup down with a clatter on the table and hurling herself back in her chair. "Please. The whole world's our country now, or did you manage to forget that, Zu-Zu?"
I sigh, shaking my head. "Trust me, Azula, no one's forgotten that."
She giggles a bit, eyes sparkling. "Well, I had to make sure. One never can be entirely sure of what you know; you never were good at retaining information."
It's really hard not to roll my eyes and laugh at that. I really hope that's not the best you can do. Instead, I just kind of shrug and say, in a resigned tone, "Whatever, I'm not going to argue with you. I refuse to believe that you came all the way down here just to taunt me, so, whatever it is, let's get it over with and call it a day."
For the record, at no point to I mention, or even hint at, the fact that Katara has become extremely proficient at Nihongo. If my sister could ever bestir herself to really look at those she considers inferior, then she would notice that, as relaxed and bored and compliant as Katara is trying to look, her eyes give away that she understands nearly every word.
But instead of paying attention to anyone but whatever twisted image she has of me, she just puts on an extremely dramatic pout and says, "Aww, but Zu-Zu, we haven't seen each other in…what…over five years? I want to catch up, find out what you've been up to, ask where you precious little ship went!"
That finally does it for me. I've officially lost interest in this conversation. I sink back into my chair, my hands clasped and resting on my stomach, wondering if my eyes are expression the strange combination of boredom and irritation that I feel. "Like you fucking care, Azula."
When I was fifteen and my sister was thirteen, there was a servant about my age who was basically my own personal assistant. His name was Hideki, and I liked him. He was a good kid, and he was really closer to my friend than my servant, or at least, as much as I allowed myself to have friends back then. One day, him and I were sitting on the veranda of my room in the palace, doing something or other. We were hungry, and he volunteered to run to the kitchens and grab a snack. I let him go, because he was sweet on one of the girls who worked there. He didn't come back for a long time, which was expected, because that girl was also sweet on him. I didn't suspect anything was wrong until I heard the screaming. I bolted out of my room, racing down the halls until I found my sister, standing over Hideki's smoldering body, ranting about how people needed to watch where they were going, or else they'd be sorry. I flipped out, chewing her out for killing someone for no reason. Unperturbed, my little sister, still not fully free of her little kid chubbiness, glared at me with unapologetic eyes and pointed out that, as descendants of Agni himself and thus, living gods, we could do whatever we wanted, and didn't need a reason to kill someone. Without thinking, I snapped that Hideki was a good guy, and that I liked him.
I'll never forget the look that passed over her eyes. Her lip trembled, and her eyes went as big as saucers. The flames in her hands went out, and tears poured down her eyes as she blubbered, "Oh…you liked him? I'm sorry…I didn't know…" After that, she buried her face in her hands and ran off in hysterics, and refused to come out of her room for a week afterwards.
I didn't know what to do then, and I certainly don't want to do now, as Azula's face falls and her shoulders slump. For a moment, she looks for all the world like a little girl who just got her hand caught in the cookie jar. She looks hurt, lost, confused, bewildered, like I just slapped her across the face and called her a whore. Beside me, Katara looks so stunned that, for a moment, I fear she's going to slide out of her seat.
I just sit and wait.
Sure enough, like that, the illusion is gone. The hurt little girl, the little sister that I used to watch play with her dolls on the floor of my room, is gone, banished, strangled in her crib and tossed out with the trash. Azula actually seems to shudder a bit, her whole body twitching, her face twisting into a snarl as her eyes flash to something that only she can see, her gaze brimming with tears even as it blazes with unadulterated hatred. She shakes her head, and when she speaks, she sounds disturbingly like a snake about to strike.
"Yeah, well, fuck you, maybe I do care, maybe I don't care, whatever, but at the very least, you owe father an explanation."
I'm settling even further down, my face in one hand, the elbow propped on the arm of my chair. I feel the same as I always do, when Azula takes one of these turns. Five years. I want to laugh, I really do. Five years, and I still have no idea what's going on in her head.
To which a voice replies, And after five years, why do you even care?
To which I say, Because I fucking do.
Because uncle would want me to care…
"I don't owe father anything, Azula."
She scoffs, as if that was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard in her life. "What?! Zu-Zu, you and I both know that we owe father everything."
I sigh, feeling very tired. "I'm not having this fight with you, Azula."
She huffs, crossing her arms and tilting her head, her face twisting into a leer, the glimpse of the little girl so far gone that one wonders if it was ever really there. "Well, you never were one for a fight, always running away at the first sign of trouble." She spits out the last word, like a bug had crawled into her mouth and she had just now noticed it. She takes a moment to smile, basking in her barb, while beside me Katara stiffens, gripping her hands together until her knuckles start to turn white.
I shake my head. "Azula…just…what are you here for?"
She rolls her eyes. "I already told you that."
"No," I say, pinching the bridge of my nose, "you didn't. You've just sat here baiting me."
She shakes her head vehemently, eyes flashing, jabbing a finger towards me. "No, that's bullshit, and you know it. We just fucking talked about this."
"Uh huh," I say, trying to see where this was all going, "did we? When?"
She bats the question away. "It doesn't matter. Point is, we talked about this, but I guess, seeing as you're so fucking stupid – thought the level of stupidity you've reached recently is truly astonishing, even for you, what with the company you've started keeping – but, like I said, since you're so fucking stupid, I guess I'll just tell you again." She gives a theatric roll of the eyes, the likes of which our old rhetoric teacher would've been proud (had my sister not had him whipped for daring to give one of her speeches poor marks, a process that ended when the poor old man had a heart attack), and snatches a leather cylinder that she had brought with her off the ground. With a flick of her wrist, she casually tossed it into Katara's lap, muttering, "There you go, whore."
I have to admit, I just about shot a lightning bolt at my sister right then and there. Insult me? Fine. I've been insulted all my life. Insult Katara? That's…that's a little difference. I'm about to say something when Katara fixes me with a look, eyes blazing, a look that says, Don't you dare be an idiot now, you fool, then calmly hands the cylinder over to me, a thin smile on her face. I nod slowly, reaching out and wrapping my hand around the soft leather casing, and, for an instant, she reaches out with a finger, lightly runs it over one of mine, a glimmer in her eyes saying, We got this, remember? I nod slowly, and try not to smile, taking the cylinder from her and popping it open.
Into my lap spill two scrolls, very elaborate, very ornate. The scrolls themselves are very heavy, printed on what we call in the Fire Nation dragon-skin paper, which isn't dragon-skin, of course, but is actually just a very expensively made kind of paper that looks like it could be the skin of a dragon, and can only be used by the Royal Family. The writing on the scrolls is absurdly ornate and intricate, carefully hand-written calligraphy in classic script, using the stilted, unwieldy court language that only nobility learn and that everyone hates. At random, I pick one scroll over the other, bending over it and furrowing my brow at it.
Beside me, Katara stirs, leaning over and whispering softly, "Mikä se on?" What is it?
I shrug, still trying to makes heads-or-tails of the kind of elaborate script I haven't bothered with in years. "I'm not sure," I reply in the same language. "It's in court script."
She smiles. "Don't you hate court script?"
I smile back. "About as much as you hate grammar."
From her chair, where she has finally managed to resume her relaxed pose, my sister groans, snarling at us in Nihongo, "If you're going to start speaking in your slut's barbarian language, please talk in a way that I don't have to hear you."
Shifting back so that she's facing Azula fully, Katara smiles sweetly and says, "Et puhu Suomi, otan sen?" You don't speak Suomi, I take it?
I shake my head, still trying to make heads-or-tails of what I'm reading, not because I can't (the skill comes back with distressing ease) but simply because…well…I'm not sure I understand what I'm seeing. "Hän puhuu hienosti." She speaks just fine.
"Of course I do," Azula growls, still refusing to speak anything but Nihongo, "I can speak anything I need to. But just because I can, doesn't mean I do." Her eyes narrow, as Katara continues to smile sweetly and uncomprehendingly, until Azula throws up her hands and heaves herself deeper into the chair. "Oh, why do I even bother…are you done yet, Zu-Zu?"
I nod slowly, deep in thought. Yeah, I'm done, though I still don't understand. I pick up the other scroll, give it a quick once-over. That one, at least, says what I expect it to, but…this other one… I shake my head, my mind reeling. What the actual fuck? I let the second scroll roll itself up in my lap, holding the first scroll in the air by one end, the other end hanging limply out in space, tapping gently against my arm. It almost feels like it's beating in time with the pulsing pain in my head.
"Did you…did you read this?"
Azula rolls her eyes, grinning like a loon. "Of course I read it, Zu-Zu. Come on, I was there when Father dictated it." She narrows her eyes, and this time, she actually does seem to lick her lips. "Unlike some of us, I'm trusted to actually be present and do things."
I nod slowly. "Uh huh. Then care to explain this to me?"
She shrugs. "Oh, Zu-Zu, always needing things spelled out for him. When are you ever going to grow up and learn?"
I'm struggling hard to maintain my composure, to keep my face blank and placid and free of the venomous glare I know she's just aching for. "Just spell it out for me."
She shakes her head and clucks her tongue. "Fine, fine, be that way. Basically," she says, in a resigned, nonchalant tone that is completely at odds with the white hot rage burning in the depths of her eyes, "Father has decided that, after everything that's happened to you, maybe you've managed to learn your lesson. So, sign that paper, blame everything on our fat idiot of an uncle, and you can come back home and re-take your place."
It takes a minute for this to sink in. When it does, Katara is barely able to stop her mouth from hanging wide open, while I just outright blink in confusion. So, I didn't misread that… I shake my head, trying to figure out how I feel. Shouldn't I feel something? I know I should…
For a split second, I'm eighteen again. I'm angry, in pain, lonely, lost, confused. I cry nearly every night. I can't sleep, I can't eat, I've torn the mirror in my cabin off the wall and hurled it out into the sea. My face is wrapped in gauze and bandages, and all I think about every day, every hour, every gods-damn second, is just how much I want to go home. I didn't even want to be restored to my position then; somehow, I knew that that was never going to happen, not so long as my father had his Golden Child in Azula.
But…still…I would've given anything to go home…
Except…I have a home now…
And it's not in the Fire Nation…
I turn, look at Katara, see her smiling back at me. Somehow, she knows what my decision is. Somehow, she knows that I made this decision a long time ago.
I made this decision before I even knew there was a decision to make…
So yeah, I start laughing. It's slow at first, just a soft chuckle, deep in my chest. But then I look up at Azula, see her bewildered expression, see, for possibly the first and last time in human history, what it would look like for Azula to be struck speechless, and then I'm giggling. Giggles turn into real laughter, then real laughter into hysterics, and the next thing I know, I'm clutching my sides, tears pouring out of my one good eye, just in complete stitches. Azula just gapes, her startled, befuddled look turning slowly into anger and then into blind hatred as she watches Katara, helpless with her own mirth, stand up and crawl into my lap, burying her face in my neck as we just laugh ourselves sick.
It's only with the greatest difficulty that put ourselves back together. We're still giggling as Katara plants a big, wet kiss on my lips, one which I return with full force, after which we disentangle ourselves and I hand her the first scroll. Without a word, she tosses it into the fire, taking a poker and shoving it down deep into the flames. Even after she's grabbed a pen and inkpot and brought it to me, and even as I'm dipping the pen into the ink and preparing to sign my name, even then, we're still…well…a bit loopy.
We're full of mirth right up into Azula explodes.
"What the fuck are you doing?!"
She's not lounging in that chair anymore. No, she's on her feet, shaking with fury and confusion. Her eyes are wild, her movements ragged, muddled, jerky, like she doesn't know whether to sit down or leap out the window, and she's trying to do both at the same time, all while her brain tells her to do somersaults. Her fists are clenched, and her body seems to pulse with barely contained energy.
To that, I merely look up at her, smiling, and say, "What do you mean? I'm signing the papers."
"Which fucking papers?!" she snarls.
I shrug. "That should be obvious, shouldn't it? I'm renouncing my claim to the throne." With a flourish, I do just that, writing the characters of my full name, Tokugawa Zuko, on the handy space provided. I lift the scroll to my face, blow softly on the ink, shake it a little, make sure it's reasonably dry, then, still with a happy smile, roll the scroll up and slip it into the cylinder, tapping the cap into place. With the cylinder, I tap the top of my head, where I haven't worn a topknot since the worst day of my life. "This is your lucky day, I suppose. You get to keep wearing that thing." I stand, feeling like a massive weight has been lifted from my shoulders. "Though, really, you're the one who loses. I always thought that thing was ugly."
Her hand flies to her topknot, trembling as it gently brushes its fingertips across what I know to be very cool and very smooth. Catching herself, she pulls her hand away, and through gritted teeth she grinds out, "It is not ugly."
Katara snorts at that, causing Azula's eyes to fly to her. Suspicion dawns on her face, but I don't care. I've done what needed to be done. I hold the cylinder out to my sister, and say, feeling calm and relaxed, "Well, you have what you wanted. Now go."
She blinks once, twice, and then, without warning, swats the cylinder out of my hand and across the room. "You…you think I came here for that?!"
I sigh, rolling my eyes. "Fine, sister, I'll bite. What did you come here for?"
She steps towards me. She's very close. I raise a hand at Katara, who has put herself into a fighting stance. Katara nods at me, but stays how she is, ready to bend at a moment's notice. I turn my attention to my sister. I look into her eyes, or, at least, the only one I can see. It looks so much like mine… I look deep, searching, desperate. Are you in there, sister? Are you still there? Where's the girl who used to play with dolls, who liked stories of fantasy and adventure…
The girl who said Zu-Zu with love…
But she's not there, is she? Maybe she never was…
The answer, when it comes, is not what I was expecting.
"I came here for you."
I blink at that. I really don't know what else to do. A thousand possible replies fly through my head, and just as quickly, disappear, until I'm left with is, "Wait…what?"
She jabs a finger into my chest. "You heard me. I came here for you." She pivots on her heel, and begins, for lack of a better descripting, stomping around the room like a spoiled five-year-old who just got told no for the first time.
Which isn't a bad description…
"You know what Father wanted to do?" She doesn't wait for an answer, just rants on. "He wanted to demand that the Water Tribes turn you over, you and all your crew, whoever had managed to survive. He was fucking livid that you had turned against him like that." She stops, giggles, raises a finger. "Though he was also impressed. He really never would've thought you had that kind of gall in you, but still," her face twists back into a snarl and she's away again, "the point is, he wanted you dead. You know who stopped him? You know who talked him out of it?" She jabs both thumbs into her chest, hard enough to make me wince at the sight. "Me, that's who! ME!" She throws her hands up in the air, screaming at the wall. "I went to him, and I said, You know, Father, think about it, think about how it'll look, if you have my idiot brother brought home in chains. Everyone will think he tried to overthrow you, and that he was enough of a threat to warrant an execution! Think of all the fuss! And nevermind how much of a royal pain these barbarians are when they work together on something. Why not try something different?"
I step towards her, arms down, fists clenched at my sides. "So, you actually thought…you actually thought I'd want to come home?" I reach up, point at my scar. "After that fucking bastard did this?!"
She shrugs, looking bored by the topic. "Please, Zu-Zu, it's just a scar. And besides, don't blame me, blame Mom."
That stops me in my tracks. I tilt my head, the world reeling and spinning and turning around me. The fuck? "But…wait…Mom?"
Azula nods, lifting up a hand and examining her fingernails, her moment of rage forgotten. "Well, yeah. How many times do I have to tell you? Mom talks to me." She points over the corner behind me. "I mean, gods, she's right here. How do you never see her?" She shakes her head, bemused. "And to think, you thought she loved you best."
I won't lie, I see red. The world flares into a thousand-thousand shades of red, as if flames were dancing just behind my eyes. My blood surges in my veins, and all I want to do is burn my sister to a crisp. I take a deep breath, storm over, and snatch the cylinder off the ground. I hold it out to her once more, words growling out of my throat like crush glass. "Just fucking take the cylinder, Azula. Take it, go home, and finally get what you always wanted."
The tears again. Oh, gods, not the fucking tears…
"But…but Mom said that you'd come home if I asked…"
I sigh. Just like that, the rage is gone. I never could stay mad at her. I wonder why, even as I know. It's not her fault. She's sick. She needs help. "Look," I saw, rubbing my eyes with my free hand, holding out the cylinder with the other, "just…just take the damn thing."
Azula stomps her foot, tears brimming out of her eyes. "But…Mom said!"
I just shake my head, speaking in a calm, cool voice, shoving the anger and the rage deep down into my gut. "Well…Mom was wrong. I'm sorry, but she was wrong."
If I'm shaking my head, Azula is practically hurling hers from one end of the room to the other, almost as if she wants to twist it off her own neck. "No, no, no, fucking no! You need to come home!"
I take a deep breath, let it out. I reach out behind me, and just like that, Katara is with me, her fingers entwined with mine, her other hand on my arm, and we're holding each other tight.
"Azula, listen to me: I am home."
"No, no, no. You don't belong here."
"Azula, this is the only place I do belong."
She takes a step towards me, once again slapping the cylinder out of my hand and coming close enough that I can almost see the things that slither around in her mind.
"Why? So you can dress in fur and throw rocks at the sea and fuck your whore? Is that what this is all about, some silly, stupid little Water Tribe slut?" She leans in closer, until her forehead is almost touching mine, and she's screaming, screaming like a demon out of hell. "You're going to turn your back on Father, your homeland, me, all because it turns out that Water Tribe girls really do know how to suck dick?!"
I should feel angry, I know, but all I feel, just then, is sad. I don't know what to do, I really don't. I just want to hug her, but I know that would only make it worse. I want to pull her in and rock her back and forth, like she used to let me do when Mom was still alive, and our parents would scream at each other long into the night.
But that little girl is gone…
Buried beneath the madness…
"Azula," I say, sighing, "just…go."
She steps back, a strange gleam in her eyes. "Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you? Like for me to just run off and leave you here, so you can hide." She leans forward, finger out. "Well, I see through you, don't think I don't. You might've fooled everyone else, even Father, what with your crazy suicide mission and charging into battle screaming banzai, or yes, I heard the reports, but I knew better. I know better, because I know you. I see you, you dirty, filthy, race-traitor, stupid, moronic, idiot of a coward."
The slap, when it comes, is as violent as it is unexpected. Azula's reeling back against the wall behind her, holding her face, and I'm standing there, dumbfounded, while Katara stands before my sister, fists clenched, shaking with rage. I start to step forward, to get between them, but, in unison, both of their hands go up, and I stop, and I watch.
And I wait.
"Fuck you, you crazy bitch." Katara's voice is unlike I've ever heard come from her before. She's almost a different person, standing there in our home, glaring down at my sister, as I realize, for the first time, that Katara's got an inch on her. "You want to come in here, yell and scream and call me names? Fine. I didn't expect any better from you. But don't you dare, don't you fucking dare, call Zuko a coward. You hear me?!"
Azula just giggles. I see it in her eyes. Victory.
She's finally going to get what she came here for, as much as she does anything for a reason…
"And what," my sister snarls, eyes aglow, "are you going to do about it."
Katara doesn't even hesitate.
"Agni Kai."
Azula just smiles.
"You're on."
And what am I doing at that moment?
Wondering when I lost my fucking mind…
So, that took all goddamn afternoon; sorry about that. Azula can be a bitch to write, in every possible meaning of the term. Seriously, the girl is at trip. Writing her is kind of like dealing with That One Relative that everyone has, that always shows up at Christmas, even though everyone is kind of hoping that they don't. It's kind of draining, you know? Yeesh.
Someone mentioned in a review that they felt that Ozai seemed to be letting Zuko off easy. Well, he wasn't; Azula pitched the dude the idea this idea, that it'd be easier (and a propaganda victory, too) if they could get Zuko to come back to court. I mean, why not? Keep him under tabs, and it wasn't like he's going back into the line of succession. Ozai's standing there thinking, Yeah, well, and who knows, maybe he's learned a thing or two in defeat, and will be better than my daughter, who is obviously out of her mind. Meanwhile, Azula's thinking…whatever it is that passes for thinking with Azula.
But there you go…
Also, with Ozai and the peace terms, it's important to remember that Ozai thinks of himself as a god, and what would a god enjoy more than the feeling of being merciful, especially to an object that he probably feels isn't worth his time? So yeah, Azula basically saved Zuko's life, for reasons that even I, the guy who wrote the damn chapter, can't even begin to understand.
Weird, right?
In the next chapter, Katara teaches Azula a lesson, and, for the first time in his life, Zuko gets the last word. Stay tuned!
