"Leaving so soon?"

He steps resolutely forward again. "I don't want to —"

"I just helped you create absolute chaos, Blue. Let's talk for a bit."

Kaz accidentally crunches a twig underfoot and then stands still — Sokka is right, he isn't exactly the stealthiest. "I have to go home," he mutters.

"You've been out half the night, I'm sure your folks won't notice if you slip in a bit late as long as you're back before dawn."

No, he shouldn't stop to talk with the strange man who'd help him careen cabbage over the walls of the storage building. He really shouldn't, but he doesn't exactly feel like checking in on Iroh and growing frustrated today and his sleep schedule is messed up anyway. Another step leads to a leaf crunching and something flying into his face; he dislikes this part of the foliage. "Fine," he turns around to see Sokka sitting on a rock and staring at him with a rough smile. "Who are you, anyway?"

"I told you. I'm Sokka," he holds out his hands in a gesture of mock surrender, and Kaz thuds onto one of the other stones in the area, shifting himself when the rugged surface bites into his skin. "I'm more curious about who you are."

He bites his lip and hopes it's not obvious — the mask doesn't hide the lower portion of his face that well. "I'm nobody."

And yet he knows that statement isn't convincing — how many dark-skinned Fire Nation princes are there? Sokka, he'd decided while inside, is definitely water tribe. That leaves him with questions he wants answered and also doesn't want to be asked. If Sokka knows anything about the Fire Nation monarchy as it currently is, if he's heard the rumors or seen him in the palace . . . there's a heavy chance that he's well aware of who's under the mask, and that's terrifying.

"You're Fire Nation?"

He nods roughly. "Yes."

"And you're . . . Northern Water Tribe?"

He shudders but he can't deny it. "I don't know which tribe."

"Ah," Sokka leans to the side and opens up towards him — it's a clear sign of trust. "I have not seen one of my people in a long time. And I never expected to find someone that was of both nations here. Tell me," he whispers loudly, "was it your mother? Was your father a soldier?"

"Yes," he says, because that's close to the truth and what he had almost believed for the longest time. The man looks sad all of a sudden. "I hope she's alright, now. Some cruelty knows no bounds."

"Oh — oh," and it feels dirty, so wrong, that something could even think that his father hurt his mother. "No, it's not . . . it's not like that. My father was a deserter in the war and my mom was a healer and they fell in love."

"A waterbender, then," his eyes light up a bit. "Are you one?"

Kaz lights up his palm in response to that, willing his flames to stay orange, to stay ordinary, under the starry sky. Sokka nods at the display as he turns it out. "But you use a sword. You didn't bend, today."

I don't have enough control and my flames would be obvious. "Dad taught me."

A few seconds pass before Sokka tentatively encroaches further upon the subject. "Your father was a bender and a swordsman, then. Funny coincidences," Kaz doesn't know how to respond so he stays quiet. "Are they . . ."

He has to lie or there's no reason for him to be here, in the Caldera. "Yeah. I live with my aunt now."

"A good woman, then, for taking you in," Kaz will not laugh — he knows that if this man knew he was talking about the Fire Lord he would more than reconsider his words. "I'm sorry for your loss, Blue," he finishes soberly. "I like the mask, though — very water tribe. Was it your mother's?"

"Yeah," he holds up a hand to the glossy finish. It must be strange to talk to a boy in a mask — he'd almost forgotten that he was wearing one himself. Suddenly, once again, he misses his mother's touch so urgently — her tight hugs and calming caresses, the way she would play with water, how her cooling touch canceled out his own. He's caught up in a wave of emotion when he chokes out again, glad that his face isn't visible, "I miss her."

"I'm sorry, son," Sokka looks at him with a strangely broken look. "I — I lost a lot in the war. When I was younger I lost my mother to the Fire Nation. And then when I was a teenager I lost my sister and my father and my grandmother and all of my friends and now I'm alone."

The sheer sadness that escapes from this towering monster of a person, who's drawn out a black sword and his wiping the blade with a cloth he has produced out of somewhere, is awe-inducing in the worst kind of way. "I'm sorry. That you're alone."

It's given a rueful smile. "Your mother was probably from the North Pole. There weren't any healers helping deserters when I was your age from the South Pole, where I'm from."

He tries to think about where exactly his mother is from but he can't remember. "She never really told me much about it."

"Perhaps she didn't want to remember," Sokka says. "The war was rough and she must have left home when she was young. In the North Pole women are healers, all the waterbenders. It's a tough culture, ours. Never once has Agna Qel'a fallen. After the war when the Southern Water Tribe was all but gone they all went there too. And now there is little left of the south," he continues wryly. "Still, I hope they have continued some of our traditions up there."

"If you're from the Northern Water Tribe then . . . why are you here?"

"I live in Shu Jing. I am a swordmaster and my old master perished in the war so I took up his residence. There is nothing left for me in my old home."

"You live in — why are you here, still?" Kaz is confused. "If you hate the Fire Nation then why do you live here? And why are you in the Caldera?"

"I have some business to take care of here before I go back home. I have not been here in a long time — but I'd heard that the Fire Lord was missing and that there's a new prince and that suddenly there is a lot going on in the palace."

"Are you going to . . . attack the palace?"

He attempts to hide his fear with a lilt in his tone, something like jubilence; he thinks he does it a little too well because Sokka pounds the stone. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

No. "I don't get why."

"No, I'm not going to attack the palace. I'm done fighting in wars. I don't have much left to lose but anything is still something."

"So you're here because . . ."

"I have to meet an old friend, Blue," Sokka winks. "Something happened to him and he reached out to me for the first time in years. I thought it was a fine time to pay a visit and see what's going on here. I will admit I've been staying out of affairs here for a while. I am not the biggest fan of your Fire Lord," he chuckles. "And you must not be — that's why you're doing this, are you not? You live here."

"I . . . no, actually. One of my friends does. And she needed help so . . ."

"I see," suddenly the towering water tribe man seems a lot closer to him, his blue eyes large and moon-like. Kaz takes in his environment again — the quietness of the trees, the darkness of the night, the gravel underfoot — and wonders what part of him thought that speaking to a random if helpful stranger about his life was a good idea. But then again, he feels like he's tied to this man on a string — perhaps because of heritage, perhaps because of loss. He wonders if he can ask if Sokka knows his mother . . . but then maybe that wouldn't be the best idea. And the likely answer to that will be 'no'. "You're not from here."

"I'm Fire Nation," he confirms, surprised.

"Not from here," Sokka gesticulates with his arms. "Not from this district — I can tell. That mask is well-made and even your clothes are. Your . . . aunt is a noble, is she not?"

If only. "Yes."

"And then why are you . . . trying to impress someone then, are you?"

He turns bright red and is once again glad his face isn't visible. "No! This is the right thing."

"Next time you do the 'right thing'," Sokka snickers, "think about it first. You're accomplished for your age but these are some laws to be breaking."

"I know," Kaz grumbles. "The — the prince is looking for me."

Sokka settles back down. "Ah, this mysterious Fire Nation prince. Never though old Azula would have a kid, and then hide him, but I suppose even she can be human sometimes —"

"He's not —" no, this is fine. "Yeah. That's the . . . prince."

"I suppose he's just as terrible as the rest," he places his neck against a tree trunk. "Crazy, all of that line. All the goods ones don't make it in that family, Blue. You don't want some kind of monster like that on your trail. What's his name?"

Monster. Of course — but the word doesn't even bite this time because it's a descriptor for Azula and not him, and he understands even if he dislikes that that conclusion can be drawn. "Crown Prince Kazou," he says firmly. He'd repeated those words to himself in the mirror for days on end when he'd first come here, unable to do much else with his arm in a sling. "That's his name."

"Sounds rough," Sokka yawns. "Sure anyone is worth having something like that on your trail?"

His mask is lifted up enough for his smirk to be visible. "I'm sure that I can evade some stuck-up prince." And once again he feels that distinction — the one between the Fire Nation's Crown Prince and Kaz. But then again, it was still Kaz who held up a sword to Jiro's throat. That situation has been hushed outside of the palace and he's glad that Sokka is unaware of what happened that night. He feels that this man is a — justified — pillar of something like righteousness, and Rini's sentence floats through his brain. Doing stuff that's technically right in a wrong way isn't good. He should still be punished. And that's funny, because the person he's doing this for probably thinks he should be in jail. She also probably thinks that he is catching himself.

Being two people at once is difficult. Sokka's yawn grows louder — "If you say so, buddy. Good job with those swords, by the way. Your father or your tutors or whoever's got you covered pretty well. I'm a swordmaster, though," he takes the black weapon in his hand and swings it around in a perfect circle, "so I think I might have a bit more on them. I like you."

Kaz hadn't been able to see much of Sokka in action, partly because they hadn't actually needed to fight anyone on the way in or out. But he can very much believe that he is, indeed, a master. "Um. Thanks."

"And you know what, Blue? I'll be here for the next six or seven days. You need help, find me. I've got you covered. We can work on your planning."

"Where would —"

"This place'll be crawling with palace informants," Sokka says. Then he points far to the left. "Underneath the two rocks out there. You know what I mean?"

"Why —"

"It's nice to see a familiar face," he says as he finally hoists himself up. "And for whatever reason, you remind me of myself. Stay safe, son."

Something purple glints over the horizon, so after sitting for a moment in silence Kaz lifts himself up and checks that his sword is inside its sheath before slowly jogging back home, stepping around crunchy and dead fauna.