Chapter 9
While writing this fanfic I listened to the album "The Five Ghosts" by Stars. I actually got some of my plot ideas from listening to the songs! This chapter was influenced by "Dead Hearts."
The huddle of people clustered around the burnt house slowly starts to dissipate. Azula supposes they are returning to repair their homes or checking to see if particularly annoying relatives have been conveniently eliminated. Or whatever else peasants do. She feels useless just standing next to Temurin as he treats a young woman with a deep sword wound in the meat of her thigh.
Although. There is something oddly fascinating about watching him clean out the wound, teasing out gravel with tiny tweezers. A young man kneels beside Temurin. He holds the woman's leg still. Father never arranged medical lessons for her, so she's never really seen the aftermath of an injury. Besides, the waterbender healer they kept imprisoned in the Capital always healed Azula's training injuries without using these…nonbender methods. Temurin pours alcohol over the gash in his patient's thigh. The girl hisses with pain.
"That was the worst," Temurin says encouragingly. The girl stifles another whimper. Nodding in approval, Temurin gets out a needle and thread. Barbaric.
"I'm going," announces Azula. "I'll make sure the wagon's packed for tomorrow." She edges away.
"You're leaving tomorrow?" The pretty young man gripping the girl's leg looks up. It's hard to tell when he's covered in smoke residue and bits of plaster, but he seems to be Azula's age.
"Yes, we're going," says Temurin distantly. He carefully threads his surgery needle.
"Is there a problem?" Azula threatens. The man's eyes widen.
"No problem!" he answers. "It's just—I've been hoping to travel southeast, too. And since my home was just destroyed—"
"You want to come with us," Azula cuts in scornfully. "But why would we burden ourselves with you?"
"Nekana. Don't be so rude," says Temurin. He tugs his needle through the edge of his patient's wound. "I'm sure this young man—what's your name?"
"Altan."
"I'm sure Altan can pay to join our party." Temurin's needle darts in and out of the woman's flesh and he ties off the knot with a flourish. Azula smirks. Nothing will ever come in between Temurin and a profit.
Altan lets go of the woman while Temurin wraps a thick white bandage around her leg.
"I can pay," Altan says hesitantly. "Once we get to my uncle's house in Bahasa."
"Fair enough." For the first time in the whole conversation, Temurin looks up at Altan. "It will be 100 kuai for the journey. There's not a safer place in the world than next to Nekana."
Unless you're my enemy, Azula amends silently. Still, it's good to hear that Temurin thinks he's safe with her. Especially since only two hours ago she almost killed him on Ozai's orders. Something darkens in Temurin's eyes. Is he remembering too? She must have looked completely insane, yelling at Ozai and Ursa, thinking that Mila's bandits were sent by Zuko to murder her…
Azula's stomach sinks. In the high of the fight she'd forgotten. But after all this time, after she thought she had reclaimed the dark corners of her mind, it happened again. She stumbles backward. She has to get away.
But as always, she can't escape her greatest enemy.
Azula runs.
Her cheeks are wet as she sprints out of the town center. People spring out of her way, alarmed, but she doesn't care. She's always been good at short-distance sprints. Faster than Ty Lee and Mai, even faster than Zuko. But look at them. And look at her now. Zuko and Mai have their perfect little family and rule the Fire Nation. Ty Lee is as happy as a beaver-clam with her Kyoshi Warrior freaks. Even Ursa has a new husband and a new daughter.
Face it, Azula thinks as a stitch throbs in her side. They've won the race.
Her lungs constrict painfully. Azula slows to a walk. It's only when she stops running that she realizes she's out of breath because she's sobbing. Months and months of clarity, only to fall back and forget what she's learned, forget that Zuko isn't out to get her. She went right back to following whatever Ozai said, even though it didn't make sense. What had Ozai said? That Temurin is the reason she didn't have a family? And she believed him...
Azula laughs hysterically until she's gasping for breath, tears still rolling down her face. She lowers herself to the ground and wraps her arms around the legs. She knows the reason she doesn't have a family, and it's not Temurin or Zuko. It's not even Ozai or Ursa.
Azula has no family because her own mind is her enemy. At any moment, she can forget who she loves and who she hates and fall back into old patterns. It's as easy as firebending. Zuko's parting words come back to her.
"Rule by fear? Was fear why you came back to save me?"
"Do you think I'm asking you to stay with me because I fear you?"
Azula buries her face in her hands. When she left Zuko in the Fire Nation she was so sure that she was doing the right thing. She was even optimistic that she could build a new life in the Colonies. But since she's been here, what has she done? Today alone she's followed Ozai's orders, hallucinated Ursa, forgotten that Zuko cares, and slaughtered sages know how many people. Even though they deserved it.
It's hopeless. The tears stop flowing as a strange calm falls over Azula. She's finally found a fight she can't possibly win. It's over.
"Never give up without a fight," says a young voice. Azula opens her eyes. Zuko sits in front of her. But not Zuko as she last saw him—Zuko as a child unscarred.
"You're not real," Azula says dully. "You're just proving my point that I'm hopelessly insane."
"Am I not real?" questions the boy. "Even if I'm not, you're still the strongest person I know, Azula. It's not hopeless."
"Look at me!" spits Azula. "I'm crying in the dirt in a no-name colonial town. Do I look strong to you?"
"You came here because you were selfless," says Zuko. He smiles. "You left because you cared about me."
"It feels like I have nothing left," Azula sobs. Tears stream down her face once more.
"Your journey has been hard, Azula," the boy admits. "But if you could see what I see, you'd know to keep on trying. There is a future for you."
"You're just a figment of my imagination."
"Don't you believe in spirits, Azula?" young Zuko says, an odd look in his eyes. With the utmost gentleness, he places his hand on hers.
"You still have a role to play for good, Azula. Just remember even at your lowest point there are people who love you."
He rises.
"What—"
But Zuko is already gone.
Despite Aliya's protestations, by morning Temurin and Jirou are packed.
"I don't see why you have to leave now!" says Aliya. She has walked with them to the center of town, which still bristles with fallen timbers. A large smoked pit-black with the twisted remains of the bandits-gapes where the notice board once stood.
"I have people waiting for me in Bahasa," replies Temurin, looking guilty. "I'm late enough as it is."
"We'll be fine, Mom," says Jirou. Remarkably, the boy has recovered from his near-death experience and practically bouncing to get going. Azula wishes he looked a little bit less like the vision of Zuko she saw yesterday.
"Temurin! Nekana!" The man from yesterday—Altan—approaches, carrying a tattered pack that looks like he pulled it straight from the rubble. Azula hopes that his house was the one the bandits burned down. Not the one she struck with lightning.
"I'm ready!" Altan says. His light brown hair flops pointlessly.
They set off. Dawn has long since passed. Azula glances upward, but the sky is clear. No Fire Nation airships or Earth Kingdom war balloons.
Not that Zuko would try to arrest her, of course. But he may think he can save her.
Temurin obviously feels the urgency, too, although he's fleeing the law for a very different reason. He flicks the reins to drive the wagon faster. Jirou sits at the back of the wagon, his gangly legs dangling over the edge. Azula and Altan walk alongside the wagon as the outskirts of New Azulon shift into grassy plains. She pulls a tall strand of grass and whips it around nervously.
"Ow!" Altan yelps as the reed smacks the flesh of his upper arm.
Azula rolls her eyes and checks the road behind them.
It's another hour before they see it.
"An airship!" shouts Jirou from the wagon. He points eagerly at the sky.
Azula looks up, hearing the roar of a distant turbine. Sure enough, an airship sails inexorably towards New Azulon. A Fire Nation airship.
"They must be sending support for the villagers," shouts Temurin from the front. "Based on what we saw yesterday, the Fire Nation is going to get a tough reception."
"It's not just disaster support," says Azula. She points to the Imperial Crest emblazoned on the side. "That's the Firelord's personal airship." A lump grows in her throat. Maybe it's her imagination, but she feels like she can see a tiny figure standing at the bow of the ship, looking back at her.
"Pick up the pace," she orders Temurin. The endless plains loom before her, eager to swallow her whole.
She is meant to stay lost.
Zuko kneels by the ruins of a shopfront and touches the charred front door. There's no mistaking it.
"Lightning," he whispers. She was here.
"The villagers say the woman left in a wagon going south, my Lord," reports Mak from a few paces behind. The General hesitates. "Shall I order them followed?"
Zuko rubs the ash between his fingers. Specks of black dust slip out of his grasp and drift away in the breeze.
"No," he says heavily. "Let her go."
