Chapter 1

A withered leaf, probably from one of the many ornamental trees that line the palace grounds, flitted down the cracked cobblestone street out front of the rookery that was Iroh and Zuko's apartment. It seemed out of place amongst the shanties, much like how Zuko felt: like a highborn relic dulled in color by impoverished and austere architecture. Drowned and swallowed and stepped on by the feet of uncountable refugees that patterned the lower ring.

He watched it absentmindedly, his face pressed against his palm as he peered out over the windowsill. The night before already seemed far away, the only evidence being the slick of grease Uncle had worked into his hair and the empty seat that he was sure would await him at the tea shop: the one where a girl with a kind smile adorned in humble Earth Kingdom green usually resided, but surely wouldn't anymore.

It was for the best, but he sighed at the thought regardless. In the very least, Uncle hadn't interrogated him about it, merely kept on as usual. Dishes clinked together as he prepared his morning tea from the other room, a muffled symphony that Zuko had become well acquainted with. Back to usual. Back to loneliness. The sooner he could forget Jin and let the pit at the bottom of his stomach harden him, let it sew back together the self-inflicted hole in his defenses, the better.

A gentle knock came, but Zuko didn't look, just listened as Uncle pushed aside the sliding door. "Nephew, are you ready for work?" he asked, peering inside with his customary smile.

"Yes," Zuko murmured, and he was, at least on the outside. He brushed his fingers over his top button, just to make sure.

"You seem troubled," Uncle noted.

"Just tired," Zuko answered as convincingly as he could. But tired was so many things, none of which sleep ever helped.

Uncle made a noise that sounded thoroughly unconvinced, and when Zuko didn't tear his eyes from the window, he sighed. "I will speak to Pao. You stay home and get some rest. The tea shop will be fine for one day."

Zuko finally brought his gaze inside, but couldn't find it in himself to look Uncle in the eyes. He compromised on looking at his feet instead, wanting to show that he was at least appreciative of the sentiment. "Thank you," he murmured.

"You are welcome," Uncle replied. "I will see you when I get home." He paused as he turned to leave, and when he spoke again, he sounded worn out, wistful even, like the act of giving advice had become tiresome over time, even for him. "You know, Nephew, perhaps you should find something to cheer you up, if only for the time being. Might take your mind off things."

To which things he was referring, Zuko could only guess, but he figured it was a myriad. Take his mind off of home, off his destiny, off finding the avatar. All the things that Uncle never understood his desire for, and probably never would.

"I'll try Uncle," he said simply, unsure if he really meant it or not.

Uncle gave him a pensive smile, and with that, he slid the door closed, and it shut with a soft click. And Zuko was left with nothing but the muted sounds of Uncle leaving the house and of a city that was still awakening.

He briefly tried to think of things that would cheer him up, but what was there? Honestly? After a few minutes, without warning, he grew angry. Angry at himself for his weakness. Angry at Uncle for enabling it. Angry at nothing and everything all at once. With a swift yank, he tore open the front of his server's robe, nearly popping off a button in the process, and threw it to the floor, disgusted at it. He didn't want to be a server, or anything like it. He wasn't a server, merely being paraded around as one in some humiliating attempt to get him to assimilate.

But… he wasn't exactly a Prince anymore, either. And that fact did nothing to comfort him, only added to his frustration of being stuck in this inbetween state he'd found himself in. He wanted nothing more than to just be, to just be something he wanted to be, something he chose to be, to have some amount of control in this tailspin of a life he was oh-so-lucky to have been born in. And since he couldn't be a Prince, and he didn't want to be a server, there had to be something else. ...There was something else.

From a nail on the wall, he removed the blue and white mask and held it in his hands, contemplating. Uncle wouldn't be happy with him, that much he knew. Though, he suspected it was the theft that Uncle wasn't happy with, not the mask. But what else was he, if he weren't a Prince, or a server, or a thief? Nothing? Perhaps he should figure that out.

He put the mask back, unsure of it, as he slipped on more suitable clothes for a walk, one that would hopefully clear his head. Better than sitting here and sulking, a piece of advice he'd taken from Uncle from previous, albeit a little late.

The streets of Ba Sing Se weren't much less dour than the apartment, although a little more lively, if you could call it that. The refugees lined up against the walls desperate for a bit of warmth from the person next to them weren't exactly spirited, but they were alive, and the sight brought the fortune of having an apartment at all into a sort of daunting perspective. Things could be worse. Things had been worse.

Rolling carts and barely shoed feet shuffled by him as merchants made their way to market to find a suitable place to set up shop. In the early hours, not many sellers were fully prepared, and even fewer customers to count. It was a massive relief compared to noon, when the sun was high and the streets were so full that his shoulders pinballed off people in the crowd. He could actually see the stalls ahead of him as opposed to having to wait until he passed them by, which made spotting a shop selling trinkets substantially easier. Not that he was one for trinkets, but Uncle surely was. Maybe they'd have a tea set or something of the like.

He stumbled suddenly, his foot falling into a sunken dip in the street. After catching his balance, and making sure no one had seen, he turned to view the inconvenience. His features of annoyance fell into obscurity, and he found himself staring, slack jawed, at what everyone else surely saw as an ordinary pothole. But ordinary it was not, marked by three distinct toeprints.

It couldn't be. His eyes shot up and saw nothing, but he wasn't crazy. He knew no other animal could have made such a mark. The avatar's bison was in Ba Sing Se, which in turn, meant the avatar was as well. He started a mild sprint back towards home, pivoting on his heels now and then to check the sky.

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