"The thousands his life had touched were at the funeral. From tea shop patrons to soldiers, from a merchant who had once been a mugger to the Earth King himself. They all paid their respects to the man who laid before them, and one by one, they left, until only a few remained. A man in ornate robes, his face scarred stood there still, looking as the scared boy that the man had once helped. A woman in a blue dress tried to comfort him, only to realize that this was the one thing she could not help heal. Alone at the side of the man who had raised him, the scarred man finally sang a song that he had heard him sing in the past, in mourning."
"Leaves from the vine
Falling so slow
Like fragile tiny shells
Drifting in the foam"
"Little soldier boy,
Come marching home
Brave soldier boy
Come marching home"
"And although the Fire Lord stood, trying to remain strong for his people, at the funeral of his uncle, he knew that something irreplaceable was gone from his life."