Kind of discouraged at lack of reader feedback, but -shrug- it's only the second chapter. And I've got all this work already written, so...boop. You're welcome. (Assuming anyone is actually reading this). Get ready for Daiyu and Zuko hijinks. These two are idiots. Also, Iroh is awesome. And that is all.
Black Jade
CHAPTER TWO
Villains
She wasn't sure when she'd fallen asleep.
It had to be the most foolish thing she'd done in the last twenty-four hours—aside from getting herself banished, that is. And damn it, but judging by the soft blanket draped over her shoulders when she awoke, the foolish, sentimental old man had let her do it.
Scrambling out of the cabin like her ass was on fire, Daiyu flew through the maze of the hull, dodging the occasional off-duty soldier, and all but threw herself onto the main deck only to skid to an abrupt halt.
The docks were nowhere in sight, and all around as far as the eye could see was the sparkling blue of the open ocean.
Maybe it was the trace of Water Tribe in her, or perhaps just her natural naval spirit, but the sight worked as an instant balm to sooth away the restlessness in her heart. Not only that, but despite the uncertainty of her circumstances, it meant that she'd kept accord with her father's demands. The sun was up, and wherever she was, it was long gone from the harbor. Judging by the way she'd been allowed to move about the ship uncontested, soldiers going about their business with only the odd passing glance of disinterest, or a nod every now and again, she was in no danger of being detained either. All in all, things seemed to be looking up.
And so it was only natural that the universe decided it was time to be a bastard.
"What kind of firebender doesn't rise with the sun?"
She let out an involuntary groan.
"The kind who is convinced early mornings are the universe's way of saying 'fuck you.'" She turned to face the frowning prince. "I've been offended by it since early childhood, so if you ever say, 'good morning' to me, and all I can say is, 'screw off,' don't take it personally."
Looking vaguely bewildered, he muttered, "Since I doubt we'll be seeing many mornings together, I don't think it'll be an issue—I want you off my ship at the next port."
"Ah." She nodded, somewhat shocked she'd been allowed onboard to begin with. "I suppose I should just be grateful I haven't been thrown overboard yet?"
"No one's throwing you overboard..." he growled. "Don't be dramatic."
"Haha!" She couldn't help but let out a sharp bout of laughter, twirling her fingers in an elaborate bow and salute. "You're one to talk, your royal drama lordliness! Stalking about and slamming doors...honestly. Are you twelve?"
"Did I say no one's throwing you overboard? I think I just changed my mind."
"Fickle too. The plot thickens..."
"Are you done pointing out my many faults?" he grumbled, and when Daiyu gave a little shrug and a nod, he said, "Good. Because I don't have time for you and your family trauma. I have an important job to do, and I don't need you or Zhao getting in my way. Got a problem with that?"
"Wha-no! No problem." She held up both hands in surrender, brows arched in surprise at his confrontational tone. "Nooo problem at all. I'll stay far out of the way of your uh, very important job."
"...Good." He narrowed skeptical eyes at her, clearly a little unprepared for her to agree with him.
"Great!" She gave him a grin and thumbs up for good measure. She held the painfully forced smile long enough for him to start staring at her like a hog-monkey with two heads until she spoke through her teeth, "Why did this suddenly get so awkward?"
"I don't know!" he threw his hands up, shuffling uncomfortably. "I sort of thought you might...argue more."
"I do like arguing. Do you want me to?" When he merely stared at her like he was trying to pick her apart, somehow parse her motives, Daiyu let out a weary sigh. "Look, I...after everything, at the very least, I owe you my respect—and not just because you're a prince." She nodded along with her words as they started to make sense to her. "I respect you, as a person, and I want to respect your wishes. This is your ship, your rules. You want me gone at the next harbor? I'm gone. I'll stay out of your way. You won't see me again."
He seemed unsure how to respond to this, striding over to stand beside her looking out over the prow of the ship, arms crossed over his chest. Finally, he asked, "What are you going to do?"
"Aw, do you care?" The corner of her lip lifted into a wry smirk.
He flashed a sharp look at her. "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't."
That shut her down before she could start in on him. Odd. Daiyu wasn't sure if she liked him knowing her well enough to do that—make her be serious, that is.
She tried to shrug it off and look unaffected.
"I don't know. I thought I might hunt down my father's old master. He's a deserter, but he was a damn good teacher once. Kind of a fatalistic old bastard though." She let out a little chuckle. "He's the worst pessimist I ever met. And I've met you."
He gave her an unimpressed look. "That's your plan then? Capture the old man instead of the Avatar and hope your father forgives you?"
Her mouth twisted into a smile that sat more like a grimace, shaking her head. "No, Prince Zuko... That's not the plan."
"What, then?" he demanded, giving her a look that gradually fell with realization. "You're not—You're not thinking of deserting too, are you?!"
She shrugged. "Don't have much other choice at this point. Besides, I can't say I'm entirely thrilled with the way your father runs things—no offense, but he makes really bad decisions."
"How—how can you say that? That's treason!" he protested, looking so gobsmacked that Daiyu felt the urge to laugh at him. She didn't though, because that would be cruel, and she was trying to curb that nasty side of her.
"I can say that because I've seen the consequences of his bad decisions firsthand," she told him gently. "I was on the front lines not too long ago. I've seen good people—good people on both sides, innocents even—die for no reason. The things they teach us in school are the biggest load of lies. They tell us we're trying to share our greatness with the world, but what they don't tell us is that the rest of the world is already great. Then we come in and destroy it. It's what we've done for a hundred years, and the rest of the world hates us for it. You can't stand there in good conscience and tell me there isn't a damn good reason for that."
"That's—that's just because the masses are stupid and uneducated—"
"No," she said, softly but insistently, shaking her head with a smile. "They're not. And neither are you, so use your head, Prince Zuko. We are an ever-expanding population confined to an island nation with limited resources. Keep in mind that we in the upper class are used to living in luxury and we are very invested in things staying that way. So what do we need to do to keep the status quo?" She watched as his brow furrowed, troubled thoughts racing through his head. "I'll tell you what my father's solution is, and judging by what good friends they are, I'm willing to bet his thoughts run pretty close to your father's too. Just yesterday, he said to me, 'Those with power have the right to take whatever they want from those without it,' and that, 'There is no place in this Great Nation for those too weak to seize it.' Does that sound like someone who wants to share our greatness with the world?"
Gradually, his troubled expression morphed into a scowl, and he grated out, "Your father is a menace, and doesn't share a thing in common with mine!"
Leveling him with an unimpressed look, Daiyu pointed a finger at her puffy cheek letting it illustrate the point.
"Then tell me why I'm standing here next to you."
Incensed he leaned into her space and hissed, "You're standing here because I allow it. Think about that and pray that I have a poor enough memory to forget every traitorous thing that just came out of your mouth."
"I hope you don't forget," she said softly. "Despite what everyone else says, you're a good prince—a good person—and I believe in you."
A startled, conflicted expression crossed his pinched features for a fleeting moment before he turned away with a snarl and stalked off, flames flickering at the ends of his fingers. She got the saddest feeling though, that instead of retreating with strength and dignity he so strongly wished to convey, he was fleeing from her. She let out a sigh and cast her gaze out to the sea.
"While good intentioned, you have poor timing, Lieutenant Daiyu," came the voice of the general, filled with caution, "I do not think my nephew was ready to hear such strong opinions..."
"When is anyone ever ready to learn that they might not be the hero of the story?" she muttered back, still staring straight ahead. "No one sane wants to think of themselves as one of the villains... It's not a pleasant reality, but it is the truth. We're the bad guys."
"Is that what the kids are calling it these days?" he toddled up to stand alongside her.
"I think one of the more common terms is 'ash-makers,' actually."
"Hmm, not very complimentary..." he remarked, tugging thoughtfully at his beard. "Did I overhear you speaking to my nephew about finding my old friend Jeong Jeong?"
"If by 'overhear' you meant 'eavesdrop,' then yes, you eavesdropped correctly," she answered with a mischievous edge to her smile.
"Ha-ha, forgive an old man his curiosity. I'm simply concerned."
"That's kind of you, General Iroh." Her smile turned sincere. "You've always been kind."
"Not always," he laughed a little sadly. "Kindness, much like wisdom, must be learned. My nephew is still learning."
"He's got a good teacher, then."
"Not at all. You see, kindness is something one must learn to value on one's own," he pointed out. "It is a sad sort of irony that cruelty is often a skillful teacher of kindness, because the ones who value kindness the most are those whose lives are so deeply bereft of it. I think you know something of this."
"Maybe a little..." she conceded, though she shook her head in disagreement. "I think cruelty can only teach kindness when there is a light to balance it. Otherwise the dark consumes you, like my father." She turned to face him with an insistent glint to her eyes, daring him to dispute her when she said, "The one who taught me kindness was my mother."
Instead of chastising her, Iroh only smiled at her brightly and gestured for her to walk with him.
"Come. Join me for a cup of tea. It'll be at least another day until we reach the next port. We so rarely entertain such interesting guests. I'd like to hear more about your mother in the meantime, if you'll indulge me."
Daiyu smiled.
"Her name is Anka. She said it means 'friendly spirit' in the native tongue of the water tribes..."
They had plenty of time to discuss Daiyu's mother, alongside many other things too, considering he was right when he said it would be at least a day before they reached a harbor. In fact Daiyu ended up spending several more days on Zuko's ship as they sailed around gathering intelligence about the Avatar. Even when they reached the next port and she swiftly readied her things to leave as per the prince's orders, she was shocked when the steel door to her cabin slammed open to reveal Zuko himself, scowling, and breathing like he'd sprinted there all the way from the bridge.
"You are not to leave the ship," he snarled at her.
She blinked, frozen halfway through the motion of folding a shirt. "Am I a prisoner now?"
"No!" he was quick to deny it, then the stormy expression on his face clouded over again. "Even considering the fact that you all but confessed your intention to desert the other day—don't think I forgot about that—and by all means you should be a prisoner, I'm here to tell you that this port's no good."
She blinked again. "No good?"
"Completely rotten. There's a plague going around. You can't disembark here."
"Oh." Another blink. He continued to stand stiffly in the doorway, glaring at her. "Oh-kay, then...? I suppose I'll just get out of your hair whenever we reach the next port?" He gave her a tight nod. "Um. Thanks...for letting me know?"
"You're welcome," he all but shouted at her, then, just as abrupt as he had appeared, he proceeded to slam her door and stomp back down the hall.
Belatedly, she frowned as she realized he had barged in without knocking, (she was no blushing maiden, but still, the door was there for a reason for fuckssake), and she resolved to give him the stink-eye for the rest of the day after that bizarre little encounter. What's more, when she followed the general up on deck, lured with promises of teaching her how to play the ancient game of pai sho, she saw people down at the docks merrily going about their day, shaking hands, hawking wares, and apart from the looming presence of the Fire Nation ship in the harbor, things seemed to be proceeding business as usual.
"A plague, huh?" She sent a flat-eyed stare down the deck where the prince swiftly involved himself in a furious exchange with his poor, overworked lieutenant.
"What's that?" Iroh called back over his shoulder.
"Oh, nothing." She sent Zuko a pointed look which he made a point to avoid as they walked past. "I guess I'll just pretend I don't smell bull-ant shit."
"Don't ask questions," he snapped at her.
"I didn't ask you anything!"
"Good!"
"Great!"
"Excellent!" Iroh cut in with a grin. "Prince Zuko, since you have nothing to occupy your time, other than menacing poor Lieutenant Jee for information he does not have, would you like to join us for a game of pai sho? Lieutenant Daiyu has never played before—a novice to the game, can you believe it?—so you might just have a small chance of winning this time."
"Ouch!" Daiyu laughed, forgetting her affront with the prince in the face of such a blatant roasting. "That's a bit harsh, coming from you, Sir." She turned her grin from the general to Zuko whose face grew stormier by the moment. Lieutenant Jee, clearly used to Zuko's turbulent moods enough to anticipate an outburst, tried to make a stealthy getaway. "I'm sure you can't be that bad at pai sho."
"He is completely terrible," the old man said with no mercy, voice filled with heavy resignation. "It's a shame."
"I don't have time for your stupid games, Uncle! The Avatar—"
"—is impossible to track down so long as he is going from place to place on that flying bison. We must use the time we spend waiting for him to reveal his final destination wisely. To strategize! And that is why I have told you, time and time again, that pai sho is much more than just a game!"
The old general's eyes gleamed with a competitive fire that gave Daiyu visions of the ruthless Dragon of the West the tales painted so well.
"Your uncle is really intense about this game, Prince Zuko..." she said quietly, regarding the overzealous old man with a new awareness. Sensing danger, she tried to slide out of immediate striking distance, just to be cautious. "Really intense. It's—actually, it's a little terrifying, can you please not leave me alone with him when he's like this?"
With an exasperated groan and a dramatic roll of his eyes the prince stalked off to walk ahead of them, pausing only to shoot an irritated look at her over his shoulder and drag her after him.
"Don't say I never did anything for you."
With a small high-pitched laugh of disbelief, Daiyu could only shake her head.
"Perish the thought!"
With how awkward and cagy he'd been acting, she got the feeling that he had probably done more for her than she even knew about—more than he wanted her to know about, specifically. It was all just a little mysterious. Though he might listen to his uncle occasionally, when it suited him, it was clear that the prince kept his own council. Had he always been like that? she wondered. When they were kids there was always something that seemed a little 'needy' about him. Not for attention—in fact, unlike Azula, he actively tended to avoid it—not praise, not even validation but...he needed for something that seemed far more vital to the human condition.
Daiyu could remember that it had made her deeply uncomfortable, and she had treated him coldly for it. And that shamed her now, because without knowing it then, she had somehow recognized a soul with the same missing pieces as hers. Only, Daiyu had always been much better at hiding things. And back then, to see someone flaunting their open wounds so blatantly like that had offended the sensibilities her father had drilled into her. But what did Daiyu really know about Zuko? This fiercely independent and taciturn prince was all but a stranger to her now.
Time changed people.
War changed people.
She knew that better than most.
One thing was for sure though, and it was that Iroh was right about his nephew. He was genuinely terrible at pai sho. But Daiyu was worse, and he won the first round. He even had the audacity to laugh at her, despite the cheap victory.
"Sheesh, you can't even go a little bit easy on me?"
"You asked for it."
Still staring at the board in mild astonishment, Iroh remarked over his steaming teacup, "When I said you had a small chance, Prince Zuko, I must admit, I didn't think you would actually win." Daiyu tried to smother a laugh while the prince sent a savage look at his uncle, who merely grinned at him. "I am glad you seem to be enjoying the game. If I knew an easy victory was all it took to spark your interest, I might have let you have it more often."
"Are you saying she let me win?" he demanded, rounding a scowl at her next.
"No!" Daiyu shook her head, holding up her hands in protest. "I just have no idea what I'm doing!"
"That makes it better?!"
"Let's go another round," she was quick to say. "I think I've got it figured out. Prepare yourself. I'm going to crush you this time."
"We'll see about that."
He knuckled down glowering at the pieces as if they were shouting insults about his ancestry.
Daiyu did not win the next round, nor the one after that. But after three defeats, she'd been burned enough for a strategy to start to form in her mind. Getting a sense for which of the flower tiles created harmonies was key, she realized. And then she had to worry about placing them in just the right position and sequence to disrupt Zuko's tiles...without being obvious about what she was doing. That's where Zuko's failing was. He seemed to take a lot of joy out of wrecking her progress and listening to her moan and groan about it. The trick, she found, was doing so without alerting your enemy that you were already stealing victory right out from under their nose. The look on Zuko's face every time she did it was worth every loss.
"You're forcing each other to improvise," Iroh noted, more engaged than Daiyu had ever seen, and rather than just alarming, she also started to find it amusing. "That's good! A good tactician must always adapt to their opponent. Prince Zuko, if I knew you would improve so rapidly with a player nearer to your own level, I would have found one for you ages ago."
"Is that supposed to be a complement?"
As they bickered back and forth, Daiyu felt a flash of bewilderment at just how she had arrived at this point. How did she get here again? Oh, right. She had dishonored her father in front of the royals and been banished less than a week ago. Wasn't she supposed to be angry about that? Apparently, all the promised rage she'd been bottling up for an epic explosion was still stewing on the back burner. It was still there, of course. She felt the foreboding presence of it whenever she pictured her father's—no, Zhao's stupid face. He didn't deserve the right to be called 'father,' not when he'd banished her and thrown her naval career—no, her entire future—down the toilet.
But while banishment sounded really terrible in principle...she was now having more fun than she'd done in years. (And with the most unlikely company too). The real kind—the pure, untainted kind of fun that she didn't even realize she missed. Not like the excitement of another skirmish or the lust and blood rush of battle she was so used to. And as she thought back on it, on the endless cycle of drilling and fighting and killing, really, what kind of future was that? One Zhao had chosen for her, that's what. And when she thought of the rage that boiled just beneath the surface from everything that had happened, all she could really focus on was how much of her life she had wasted pursuing something she didn't even want. Which brought to mind the question...what did she want?
She wasn't sure. But for now, the fondness she felt as she placed down a white jade tile, and the petty amusement, watching as the prince blew smoke out his flared nostrils as he lost, yet again, was satisfying enough.
How long would this peace last though? she wondered.
Apparently as long as it took for Zuko's frustration to reach its limit. Eventually, he flipped the board, sending the tiles scattering everywhere before stalking out of the room in a (literal) fiery rage.
"Well, at least he was invested for a little while," the old general mused with a sigh. "Would you help me reset the board, Lieutenant? Now, now, don't look so alarmed, I only wish to teach you some formations. And you must pay very close attention, Daiyu. These gambits are part of a special, little-known branch of strategy in pai sho." He held up a white lotus tile with a peculiar smile. "Memorize them, and you will go very far indeed..."
And memorize them she did, along with around fifty different blends of tea that she swiftly became addicted to—thank you, General Iroh. She had no idea there were so many different kinds! She used to think there was only green and black, but then there was also white tea, red tea, dragon pearl tea, different roasts and seasons of tea, and a plethora of herbal tisane to go along with all of them. And she didn't even know what to call matcha, and some of the fermented blends the general introduced her to. One thing was for certain, and it was that she gained a great appreciation for almost all of them—except kombucha. That unholy armpit sauce could fuck right off.
She'd burn all of it, only she was afraid that it might intensify the stench, and that was simply unacceptable.
"Careful, or he'll turn you into a female version of himself," said Zuko as he agonized over various, criss-crossing ant-trails etched onto the scroll of a map in his hands, pacing back and forth along the deck. Then he paused to think about the words that just came out of his mouth, looked over at her, and shuddered.
She shrugged from her perch on the taffrail of the ship, blowing out smoke from her pipe.
"Better than a female version of your sister." When he sent her a befuddled look at the nonsensical words, she shrugged again, examining her tapered digits, frowning to herself at the lack of luster. "I tend to picture Azula as a nonbinary entity in my head. Like a genderless spirit of vindictive spite and malice and glee—not an actual person. She's a tyrannical force of nature."
Zuko paused again, rolling up the scroll and sending her another look, this time openly stressing the question, "Why were the two of you even friends? You never acted like you liked each other, even back when we were all kids."
"She wasn't my friend," she muttered unhappily. "She was my measuring stick." When he sent her another questioning look, she rolled her eyes. "I wasn't lying when I said my father—Zhao, made me associate with her. She was the ultimate standard to which he judged everything. To have even the slightest measure of approval, I had to memorize everything about her—her habits, her manners, the way she did her hair, everything—and copy it. Until it just became a habit. There's a reason she called me 'Tiger Monkey,' and it wasn't out of friendship..." When he just gave her a dull look, she said, "You know, 'tiger-monkey-see-tiger-monkey-do'?"
He gave her an unsympathetic stare. "At least you weren't stuck with 'Zu-zu.'"
"Yeah? As opposed to having tiger monkey noises made at you all day?" She scratched at her head with one hand and an armpit with the other, crossing her eyes at him. "Ooo-eee oo-rar-rar?"
"Hah-ha!" He pointed his scroll at her like an accusing baton. "That's not worse than the turtle duck impression she used to do whenever I opened my mouth."
"Oh, my—pffft. I remember that! Didn't she keep it up for like, a month?"
"It was three..."
She let out a snort, unable to help herself at his miserable expression.
Waving a hand at him, she conceded, "Yeah, yeah, okay, you win. Your Azula experience was way more traumatizing."
He gave a satisfied nod, but looked at her thoughtfully, taking in the Lieutenant's uniform she still wore (despite having been dismissed from her post), the carefully filed nails, and expertly tamed topknot, even the hint of rouge she wore on her lips.
"Maybe it was," he said quietly, "but not enough to base my whole identity around her... You know, you don't have to pretend anymore." Even more quietly, he added, "You're better when you're just you."
"...Thanks," she told him with a tentative smile, oddly touched at the gesture. Feeling encouraged, and getting to her feet with a wave of resolve, she said, "You know what? Screw it."
Tucking away her burnt out pipe, she reached up to the emblem band and the hair stick that constrained her updone bun and tugged it loose with a savage yank. Tendrils of ebony hair fell around her face and settled down to her elbows, whipping in the brisk sea breeze as she shook out the unpleasant feeling of a tension abused scalp. Next, she wound her arm back and threw the band as hard as she could over the side of the ship, grinning, utterly satisfied as she leaned over the rail to watch it disappear beneath the frothing waves.
"That felt good. Really good," she said, sending a mischievous smirk at the prince over her shoulder. "Got anything else you wanna throw overboard?"
He pursed his lips, giving her an inscrutable look. Just as his cheeks were beginning to turn an odd shade of pink, he turned on his heel and announced, "I'm going to find Lieutenant Jee..."
"What?!" she called after him, "No! We can't throw Lieutenant Jee overboard!" The man in question froze just as he rounded the corner of the deck, eyes widening as Zuko marched toward him with his usual menacing gait. "I was just starting to like him! Hey, wait up, you can't seriously be thinking of—"
"Lieutenant! Get back here!"
Needless to say, the graceful, giraffe-gazelle-like sprinting skills of Lieutenant Jee as well as his impressive sense of self-preservation were remarked upon for several days after the incident. Zuko insisted up and down that it was a misunderstanding and an overreaction on the part of the Lieutenant, but the man continued to cast him wary, hypervigilant looks every time he entered or exited the same room.
The next day, Daiyu dressed down in her plain-clothes—a pair of dark ochre pants tucked into her curved boots with a hanging red sash and a sleeveless, copper qipao shirt with gold fastenings—and then she proceeded to use the various pieces of her discarded uniform as target practice. Launching an arm cop into the air, she'd blast it with a jet of blazing rage personified, yeeting the article overboard with the force of speeding train. Letting out a whoop, she would shade her eyes to track how far out it went before breaking the surface of the ocean with a towering splash, then throw her head back in wild laughter. Something about watching the sea swallow up her old life was incredibly satisfying, and she took great joy in shooting the rest of her armor off the side of Zuko's ship with various firebending strikes.
"C'mon, you know you want to," she taunted the prince—having just finished his daily training out on the deck—wiggling both brows as she tossed a boot up and down. "Just imagine it's Zhao's head."
He rolled his eyes at her. "You're a piece of work."
"It's so cathartic, though," she insisted, raking her wild hair back with a roguish grin where instead of a careful center part like Azula, the way the freed tresses parted now fell from her temple. "I almost wish I had more pieces of armor. This is great!" She followed that up by tossing the boot high in the air, then finished it off, whirling her leg around and shooting a blistering crescent of flame from her heel. "Bam! Take that! Look at it go! Another one bites the rust—ha-hah!"
"Bites the what?"
"Oh, you know—just a saying we have in the navy. When you lose someone at sea? And you know how rusty the hulls can get. And sometimes when the sun hits it just right, it can look like somebody got splattered on it—"
"That's kind of disrespectful, isn't it?" he remarked heatedly, "to be so flippant about soldiers who give their lives for their country."
"People give their lives for their country all the time, Prince Zuko. It isn't that special, especially when it's giving your life by getting your brains splattered out on your own ship," she said, holding up her cuirass for inspection. She gave him the stink-eye. "Especially when we're talking about sailors. Watch your terminology. The men won't respect you if you don't."
"They don't respect me anyway," he muttered, crossing his arms over his chest in a bitter temper. "Sometimes I think they only listen to me because of my uncle..." A beat later, she could practically see it as he withdrew into himself. Probably hadn't meant to say that last bit out loud...
"Well," she said with caution, "I respect you. And I'm listening to you." Then, with a teasing grin, she added, "Sometimes, I even like you!"
Then, something amazing happened.
Instead of withdrawing further, as usual, it was like...well, the only way Daiyu could really describe his face was like the sun coming out from behind the clouds.
"Only sometimes...?"
Perhaps it was the soft tone of his voice, or the tentative quirk of a smile playing around his lips, but it struck at something unguarded deep in her chest.
Instead of answering directly, she busied herself in a hurry with prying the breastplate off her cuirass, conveniently hiding the heat of her cheeks behind a curtain of hair. When she straightened up again, it was with a hopeful smile, hefting the plate from hand to hand.
"C'mooon. You know you wanna..." Her grin widened, straining the blisters on her healing cheek. "Bet'cha I can get mine to fly further out."
She could see the moment the spark of competition lit in his eyes, and he smirked.
"You're on."
What happened next was perhaps a message from the universe. Daiyu wasn't sure what exactly it was trying to tell them, but she got the distinct feeling that whatever it was had it out for poor Lieutenant Jee. Either that, or it loved him. She couldn't quite say for certain.
When Daiyu released the plate into the air on the count of three, the lieutenant rounded the same fateful corner as he did the other day, solemnly making his way to inform Zuko of (the lack of) intelligence of the Avatar, just as he did every day. It was a miracle that he was not beheaded in that same moment, because as it so happened, someone had spilled a bit of oil on the deck earlier that morning. And at just the moment Zuko pivoted to complete a successful fire crescent kick, he just so happened to step in said spot of oil, throwing the kick in completely the wrong direction...
Everything happened so fast, and Lieutenant Jee let out a yelp so abrupt (and abbreviated) that Daiyu almost thought the errant spinning breastplate did decapitate him at first. Instead, it merely shaved off a couple of hairs before embedding itself into the cabin wall directly above his head. Both she and Zuko watched, wide-eyed as the situation sunk in and the Lieutenant sunk down against the wall with a high-pitched wheeze of a sound, having apparently lost all ability (or all the will) to stand on his own.
After a beat of strained silence, Zuko sent her a sharp look.
"Not one word about this. Ever."
Dutiful and without another word, Daiyu gathered up the rest of her armor and quietly dumped the evidence over the side of the ship.
Could do with some encouragement here folks!
(I'm not begging or anything, just quietly despairing).
Fun facts!
The message the universe was trying to send them was NOT TO THROW SHIT IN THE FUCKING OCEAN OR THE OCEAN WILL THROW SHIT BACK. Seriously, Daiyu. Not cool. Don't screw with La. That guy can and will fuck you up. Don't be an idiot. Not like SOMEONE whose name rhymes with KA-POW and OW! in that specific order.
(Also, sometimes I don't know when to stop with over the top corn-flavored humor. Please feel free to tell me to shut the hell up).
