Chapter Four: Kyoshi (or: "The Ponytail Was Stupid, But What-Are-You?")

Their latest intelligence placed the Avatar on Kyoshi Island. Which was weird, since the last hawk from Commander Zhao placed him at a port town in the Earth Kingdom. But Zhao's hawk had come yesterday, and their information was from today. There was only one explanation.

"Sky bison must fly at truly astonishing rates," Zuko declared. He would not underestimate this fluffy foe.

"I am sure you are right, Prince Zuko," his uncle said. "What will you do when we get there? It will be difficult to crash into a village on solid land."

Zuko scowled. Crash into one village full of women, children, and the elderly. He just wished he'd run over the boomerang guy. "Of course not. We'll take a squad of komodo-rhinos—"

"Ah. Trampling instead of crashing."

"Let's see you come up with a better idea!"

Uncle's idea started with a haircut, and progressed to Earth Kingdom clothes and an unassuming boat he just happened to have on board, as if he had always meant to convince Zuko to leave their Fire Nation ship with only the two of them. It was probably a sign of the old General's tactical genius, but Zuko wasn't focusing on that part.

"...So the ponytail is stupid," he mumbled.

"If you are to infiltrate as a refugee—"

"Why didn't anyone tell me? And I can't just cut it off, it's a symbol of my—" 'honor' got stuck in the back of his throat. 'Station' was a weak substitute. Even if he was practically un-banished, and any day now he'd be going home. Where Azula would definitely make fun of his hair and probably write on his shaved head while he was asleep (or have Ty Lee chi-block him so she could do it while he was awake). Oh Agni, the Water Tribe peasant was right.

Uncle did that weird thing he did, where he reached out and wrapped his arms around Zuko and didn't let go even when Zuko's stiff shoulders turned to flailing. "Nephew. When you return to court, you will want a proper head of hair, won't you? And I could not in good conscience allow you to grow it back unevenly. That would look stupid."

He finally released the struggling boy. Zuko flushed, and straightened his clothes, and finally nodded. Uncle knew where he kept his shaving supplies; he gathered them, and sat behind him, and talked to distract Zuko as his head felt lighter and lighter and colder and colder.

"Our spies who return report quite favorably of Kyoshi." Uncle kept talking before Zuko could quite parse that statement. "They even have a lovely beach! I am not sure it's for swimming, though… Oh! And they attack all newcomers on sight, so do not fear they have uncovered us as Fire Nation. It is simply part of their quaint local greeting!"

"This place is neutral?"

As the wooden boat hit the shore, Suki's first thought was another bald kid? Her second was a sigh. Her third was better get the blindfolds.

The old man chuckled indulgently as they restrained him. The kid squawked, and got a solid kick in on Aoki's stomach before they got him trussed up, and kept trying to fight blind and hand-tied even after. Suki slung him over her shoulder. He kicked ineffectually at her back the entire way into town.

She kind of liked him.

Uncle hadn't mentioned the blindfolds. The not-scary-at-all-he-was-a-prince blindfolds, the it-was-just-a-tactical-disadvantage-he-hadn't-been-expecting blindfolds, the ow-ow-ow-it-was-cutting-into-his-burn blindfolds.

He couldn't see the person carrying him, but he knew they had kidneys, and he did his best to kick them into submission.

"Tie them to the statue?" one of their assailants asked. A girl. Which was no surprise, because all the worst people in the world were girls.

"Hmm. Traditional, but aren't they still re-painting that?" the one carrying him replied. She shifted him on her shoulder. He took this as a sign of her discomfort, and renewed his kidney assault. She patted him on the back. He redoubled his kidney assault. "Let's just drop them at the dojo until the headman can come. I think I have a date with an idiot, anyway."

There was a lot of girlie tittering. Another sign that he and Uncle were in the clutches of evil.

Zuko preemptively set his glare to maximum force as he was dumped on the ground.

"All right, let's see what we've got this time." The leader ripped off his blindfold. Ripped. Zuko clamped his teeth together and blinked hard and didn't cry his eyes just stung. "Oh, that's… a little oozy. Sorry. Aoki, go get him some bandages. You got a name, kid?"

(When he'd asked Uncle what he should say, what backstory they should use, Iroh's reply had been simple: "Just be yourself. I am sure they will find you delightful!" Zuko had never been so sure that words so close to his mother's were actually an insult. And then Iroh added, because he apparently assumed his nephew was an idiot who didn't know when to keep quiet: "The best story is one that is based in truth. But do not mention the Fire Nation. Or firebending. Or being a prince. And, perhaps, you should abstain from the phrase 'Dragon of the West.' Oh! We need new names!")

"I don't need your apologies and I don't need your bandages and I don't need to tell you my name!" Zuko shouted.

"This is my charming nephew, Li," his traitorous Uncle said. "And I am—"

"Uncle Mushi," Zuko declared, because it was the stupidest name he could think up on the spot.

Uncle coughed. "Yes. Mushi. We are but humble refugees—"

Zuko didn't like their cover story anymore, it was stupid and undignified and he refused to be a part of it. "I'm not a refugee! I just... can't go home. Right now. But I will!"

"—seeking a safe, neutral place for my nephew to recover from his wounds."

"If I had my—" bending "—swords, you never would have beaten me!"

"Because we're girls?" one of them asked, with a hand on her hip. It sounded like a continuation of a conversation he was no part of.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Girls are terrifying, was the emphatic subtext of this sentence.

"Can we keep him?" another one asked. Zuko turned his glare on her, which somehow was her cue to clasp her hands over her heart and make a high-pitched sound like a boarquipine sitting on its own quills.

Another girl returned with a roll of bandages, which prompted Uncle to further treachery. "Thank you, kind ladies. You may wish to keep my nephew restrained until the bandages are in place."

"Uncle!"

The leader raised an eyebrow. "No offense, but we're not untying either of you just yet."

"Are you sure? I could make us tea while we wait for your headman. I brought my pot!"

One of the girls nudged uncle's bag with her foot. Zuko heard a slight porcelain click.

"Uncle," he groaned, and let the girl with the bandages touch his face, because it had to be less embarrassing than this. As she dressed his wound, he tried to ignore the mounting pity and understanding in her eyes, because it was all wrong. "Stop it. You think you know what happened but you don't."

"Really? Because it looks like you took a fireball to the face." She grabbed his chin, and tilted his head. "Close range. Didn't even have a chance to dodge, did you?"

He glared. And finally, finally, she looked past his stupid scar to see him. Green eyes met gold. She hissed, and dropped his chin. "Fire Nation."

Uncle sighed, very dramatically. "We are indeed colonials. But as you can tell from his stubbornness, my nephew is just as much of Earth as he is of Fire. We do not bring the war with us."

This was such a blatant lie that Zuko turned his scowl to the ground, and kept quiet as the girl finished tying his newest bandages off. The wrapped fabric felt comforting and familiar, which was stupid. Just as stupid as Uncle's the best story is one that is based on truth. He should have just trampled into town with komodo-rhinos. At least trampling was honest.

The door of the dojo slid open.

"Suki?" the Water Tribe boy asked. Then he blinked down at Zuko and Uncle.

"Oh good," Sokka said. "More prisoners. That's, ah... that's really a hobby of yours, isn't it?"

And maybe, in retrospect, he should probably have definitely recognized the little prince and the old guy. But he'd only seen the old guy once, from a rapidly-flying-higher bison. And the Fire Prince's distinctive features (in Sokka Vision) were his stupid ponytail, his that-had-to-sting scar, and his My Little Megalomaniac suit of armor that made him look like he had some kind of heft. Width. Whatever. And he'd only actually seen the kid twice. And in further retrospect, he was going to feel like a real jerk when he realized he recognized small children by their stupid hair, clothing style, and disfiguring facial features. But right at this particular non-retrospective moment in time, when he saw a little bald kid with a bandage over half his head who gave Aang a run for his money in the twiggy build department (except for those biceps. Tui and La, Sokka was not jealous but he wouldn't be opposed to comparing training notes), his first thought was less "holy crap, the enemy!" and more "I sure hope bald isn't Suki's type." Because it seemed a little bit like she had a collection going.

"I was hoping we could, ah," he cleared his throat. Squared his shoulders, ran a hand over his wolf tail, and brought out the suave. "I was hoping to show you how a real man fights."

The kid glared murder at his boomerang. Since this wasn't actually a change in his expression, Sokka didn't notice.

Suki's smile was crafted by the finest spirits. Or by Koh. He really wasn't clear on which, not even after the first (second, third, and oh hey here comes the fourth) times she slammed him into the tatami mats.

The kid hit his head back against the wall. "Please blindfold me again. Please. His footwork is physically painful to watch."

"You think you could do better?" Sokka sniped in his general direction, mostly, plus or minus the spinning room.

"Yes."

The entire world revolved around Suki's smirk, in a way that was probably more metaphorical than literal.

Zuko was mildly insulted at being untied. Like they thought he wasn't a threat. (If he wanted to be untied he could have just burned his way out, thank you.) And then he demanded swords and they gave them to him, which was even worse. And then he took it out on the women's leader, and his footwork was perfect, but he still ended up on his back. He blamed the lack of depth perception.

"Ha!" the Water Tribe peasant said.

Zuko spun on his hands, and scythed the teenager's legs out from under him without even getting up. "Ha."

"But seriously," one of the warriors whispered to another, a lot more loudly than she probably meant to. "We're keeping him, right?"

"Fire Nation," the other whispered back. "Don't get attached to the unagi bait."

"Wait, Fire Nation?" The peasant was just starting to get up. Zuko kicked his legs out from under him again, derailing that train of thought like a face to the floor. "...Ow."

"Get up," Zuko ordered.

"Excuse me, you're the one who keeps—"

"Get up and keep up."

Tag-teaming a foe was not dishonorable. It was strategic. And he wasn't getting revenge for blindfolds or just-a-fluke defeats, he was testing his enemies' fighting acumen in a controlled environment while waiting for the Avatar to collect his team idiot from Dojo Daycare.