Water
Collision
Not for the first time, Zuko was grateful that he'd never participated in Uncle's music nights on the ship. They were a waste of time—nearly as much as the visit to Uncle's old lady friend had been—half the crew was tone-deaf, and Uncle always tried to insist that Zuko perform. That was never going to happen. Zuko had enough humiliation in his life without trying to publicly fumble through the few children's songs he still remembered how to play. By now, Uncle was accustomed to Zuko's refusals. That part worked in Zuko's favor. Uncle always asked out of habit, but it had been long enough now that there were no long arguments to contend with. Just one request from Uncle, a refusal from Zuko, and that was the end of it.
Most importantly, the noise and activity of music night meant that Zuko could sneak practically anywhere he wanted and no one would be the wiser. He'd once snuck into Lieutenant Jee's cabin during music night, stole his favorite shirt, and hung it from the top of the control tower like a flag, just to see if he could. And Jee had never blamed Zuko for the prank.
Tonight was more important than that. If all went well, he'd finally have everything he needed to capture the Avatar. Tonight, Zuko dressed in black and packed his swords and his mask into a black bag. Changing into his full disguise before he left the ship would be stupid and reckless—more than most things he did—but the black should be more than enough to get him off the ship and into the forest without being spotted. Then he could don the mask and the swords, and so long as he made it back before sunrise, no one would ever know he had been gone.
Zuko locked the door to his cabin and crept, soundless, down the corridor. Sneaking was so much easier without his full armor—he moved from one shadow to the next, practically a shadow himself. It felt good. Out of his armor, dressed in the Blue Spirit's clothes, he could almost forget his problems. He could almost believe that he was someone entirely different. Someone other than Prince Zuko, son of Fire Lord Ozai, disgraced heir to the throne.
And by the time the sun rose, he would have the key to removing that disgrace in hand.
Katara only pretended to go to sleep. It wasn't hard to stay awake. Her heart was racing in anticipation as she ran over her plan again and again. Wait until the boys fell asleep. Take Sokka's machete and sneak into the village. Use Sokka's machete to pry open the door of the pirates' shop and to fight anyone who tried to stop her. Use waterbending for the rest. Get the scroll, and maybe a few of the other Water Tribe artifacts, and sneak back to camp before the boys woke up.
Simple. Once she got to the ship, she would have the whole ocean at her disposal, and it wasn't a large vessel. As long as she only had to face one or two pirates at a time, she could manage.
Sokka fell asleep first. Only a few minutes after they all curled up for the night, the first thunderous snore reached her, and Katara stared straight upward, counting each snore until Aang's joined in. She waited another few minutes to be certain that both boys were asleep before she slipped out of her sleeping bag and crept across the clearing. The machete was exactly where she remembered, and she stowed it in an empty shoulder bag. Throwing the bag over her shoulder, she spared the boys one last glance, and then she was gone.
The road back to the village was dark and quiet. She tried not to think about the platypus bears lurking in the quiet depths of the forest. It would be embarrassing to sneak out of camp in the middle of the night to reclaim Water Tribe property from pirates only to be stopped by the local wildlife.
When she reached town, the main square was still illuminated by dim lamplight, but Katara skirted around it, sticking to the shadows of the side streets as much as possible. She wasn't exactly dressed to stay well-hidden in the dark, but there was little she could do about that. She wasn't even sure that they had any darker clothes. Sokka's tunics were only a shade darker than her own, and they all smelled.
But the village was quiet. All the way down to the harbor, she saw no one, she heard no one. And that meant that there was no one to see or hear her.
At the edge of the village, she crouched down beside a house to retrieve the machete from the shoulder bag and bundled the bag up under her arm. As long as everything went according to plan, she would go back to camp with the bag stuffed with the spoils of her little expedition.
With a slow breath, she steeled herself and crept to the corner. Good. The harbor was just as quiet as the village. Lanterns burned along the docks, and a few of the ships were illuminated as well, but as far as she could tell, there was no one on guard.
That seemed—odd.
Makapu was a nice town, she told herself as she darted forward and ducked behind a pile of crates. It was probably nothing. There probably wasn't any need for guards here. The villagers all took Aunt Wu's advice seriously, and she wouldn't tell anyone to steal from the ships, especially not the pirate ships.
Still, as Katara drew nearer to the pirate ship, the lack of guards seemed more and more suspicious.
But then in an instant, it became far less quiet. She wasn't near enough to see the deck of the pirate ship clearly, but she knew a fight when she heard one. There were no shouts, no calls for support or backup, but there were metallic whooshes and clangs, and a sudden flurry of footsteps, heavy and light mingling together. Grip tightening on the machete, Katara edged her way up the ramp.
Then there was a series of thumps, and all at once it was quiet again.
Katara's foot landed a little heavier than she meant it to, and she winced at the way the noise carried in the sudden quiet.
There was movement on the deck, a light set of footsteps approaching through otherwise consuming silence. And then a terrifying, big-toothed blue face peered over the railing and just stared at her.
Everything was going according to plan. Zuko made it to the pirate ship unseen, knocked out a guard without so much as a sound, and vaulted onto the deck to take the rest of the pirates by surprise. And it worked. Before any of them could react, Zuko appeared out of nowhere and thumped three on the head before whipping his swords out in a whirlwind to take out the remaining men. Even his injured arm wasn't giving him too much trouble. A layer of fresh salve and clean bandages had numbed the burn fairly well, and his left sword moved almost as fluidly as his right. Almost.
For once, he had the upper hand, and he wasn't going to let a bit of discomfort slow him down.
But when he had dispatched all of the pirates on deck, he heard more movement on the ramp. Zuko looked over the railing.
He thought that his eyes were playing tricks on him. They had to be.
Zuko couldn't possibly be this lucky.
The girl stared up at him for an uncomfortably long time, and Zuko stared back. That was her. That was definitely her. He thought he even recognized the weapon she was holding. She must have stolen it from her idiot brother.
The Avatar moved first, edging her way up the ramp, never breaking eye contact with Zuko. He was almost surprised. Almost impressed. He looked terrifying in the mask, and yet the Avatar didn't seem intimidated. Or at least not intimidated enough to keep her distance.
A few paces away from him, she stopped and stared into his eyes. Well, the holes in the mask that concealed his eyes, anyway. He reminded himself that there was no way she could see anything beneath it.
"You're not a pirate," she announced, her high, clear voice carrying a little farther than it should.
Zuko's mouth dropped open and his chin caught on the lower rim of the mask. How was he supposed to respond to that? Of course he wasn't a pirate. He was the Blue Spirit. He had wanted posters in ports up and down the Earth Kingdom coast, and he was surrounded by unconscious and injured pirates.
He was not a pirate. He was robbing pirates. He wasn't sure what that made him.
The Avatar took a deep breath and nodded, then pushed past him. "I don't know what you're doing here, but I have to take back something that belongs to me. I won't get in your way."
Zuko felt as though his eyes were trying to pop out of his skull. That went beyond courage. That was audacity, that was stupidly risky behavior. For a second, he almost forgot what he was supposed to be doing and just watched as she marched past him and straight through the open door of the shop.
Then there was a soft thump from inside the darkened room, and he came back to reality. The Avatar was hardly even trying to be quiet. If she wasn't more careful, the rest of the crew would wake up and investigate—then they'd find Zuko and the Avatar.
He couldn't be caught. And he couldn't let the Avatar be captured by pirates.
Zuko darted after her, footsteps soundless. Once he reached the darkness of the shop, he had to slow down to allow his eyes to adjust—the mask didn't make it any easier to see in the dark, and he couldn't go crashing into shelves full of trinkets or he'd be caught. The Avatar, unfortunately, was less concerned with silence, and made her way to the back of the shop, blindly feeling her way along the shelves, leaving a stream of clattering noises in her wake.
Zuko had to clench his jaw to keep from swearing aloud, and he padded down the aisle after her.
The Avatar was crouched down by a shelf—the shelf of scrolls, he realized—when he reached her. Zuko grabbed her shoulder and she started, turning back to look at him.
"What are you doing?" she hissed, smacking his hand away. In her other hand, she had a scroll—the scroll that Zuko was looking for.
He had a momentary impulse to grab it from her. He needed that scroll. He had to use it. He had to have it so he could—capture the Avatar.
Who was right in front of him.
Who didn't know who he was.
Who he could probably capture right now, if he was careful about it.
Right. Maybe he didn't need to worry about the scroll.
He pressed a gloved finger to the mouth of his mask. Just stop making noise so I don't have to fight a whole crew of pirates to get you back to my ship.
The Avatar scowled up at him. "I am being quiet." With that, she stood, and her head bumped against a low-hanging lantern. The sudden movement dislodged the hook from the wall, and the lantern plummeted downward.
The man—boy?—in the blue mask dove for the lantern. But before he could catch it, the lantern crashed down, shattering the glass and scattering shards clear across the floor.
Katara winced. Okay, maybe Masky had a point. That was a little on the loud side. But she had the scroll, and it wasn't like she had been seen. As long as she could get off the ship safely and get back to shore, she should be fine. From there, she could run into the village, zigzag between the houses until they lost her trail, then go back to camp and no one would ever know that the thief was her.
Simple. Just like she'd planned.
But there was a muffled shout below them, and the masked man gave an audible sigh. Hey. It wasn't her fault that it was almost too dark to see in here. It wasn't her fault that the lanterns were hung so poorly that any sudden movement would knock them loose.
Masky was sneaking around a pirate ship at night too. Honestly, what did he expect? Things couldn't go right all the time.
"Come on," she hissed, squeezing past him, scroll in one hand, machete in the other. "If we're quick enough, maybe—"
Masky blocked her path with an arm and shook his head firmly. He drew his swords and stepped in front of her again.
Katara couldn't decide how annoyed she should be. She wasn't helpless. She had a weapon, and she had her bending—she was perfectly capable of fighting. She didn't need protection. But on the other hand, he had already knocked out several of the pirates without help and without alerting anyone else. Maybe he knew what he was doing.
She wasn't sure she could trust him, but at least Masky wasn't on the pirates' side.
Holding the machete at the ready, Katara crept along after him on tiptoe. Apparently, she still wasn't quiet enough. Whenever she made the mistake of stepping on a creaky floorboard, he kept peering back over his shoulder and making furious gestures to quiet her down.
Well, that was too bad for him. She didn't have magical creaky-board detection powers, and the pirates were already on the way. Being stealthy wouldn't help anything.
They were nearly to the door when the first pirate reached them, and Masky whirled into action, both swords flashing in the moonlight. The pirate fought back with a dagger, but Masky knocked the dagger aside with the flat of his right sword, then struck the pirate in the back of the head with the hilt of his left. It was quick and clean, and in a moment, the pirate was down.
Katara didn't have time to be impressed. They made it less than a step out onto the deck before a fresh swarm of pirates burst out of the hold, and Masky shoved Katara out of the way. He met the pirates halfway, blocking every attack and landing a few of his own, all without making a sound.
Hey. That was just rude. She didn't need to be shoved out of the way. She could fight.
But it was sort of mesmerizing to watch. Masky leapt over a swipe of a sword, then rolled beneath another the instant he landed, and in a sudden burst of movement, sprang back to his feet, catching both pirates under the chin with the hilt of his swords.
It almost reminded her of watching Jet fight.
No. This wasn't Jet. Masky had a similar height and build, and he fought with two swords just like Jet, but everything about his movement was different. While Jet's fighting was broad and sweeping, Masky's was quick and almost explosive. It was every bit as smooth as Jet's, but where Jet had been a stream of consistent, spinning energy and motion, Masky moved in bursts, giving momentary pauses to find his next target, then flying through a flurry of blocks and attacks until another pirate—or two, or even three—was down.
But more and more pirates kept appearing from the hold, and the footsteps below deck echoed closer and closer. Katara couldn't stay back any longer. He was outnumbered, and it would only get worse if the rest of the pirates made it up the stairs.
She tried to come closer to join the fight, but the empty eyes of the mask turned on her, and he shoved her back again.
Katara scowled. Fine. If she couldn't get close enough to fight with Sokka's machete, then she'd just have to fight with waterbending.
Stowing both the scroll and the machete in her shoulder bag, Katara edged closer to the railing. Saltwater was a bit more stubborn than fresh, but she was near enough to reach it. Drawing a mass of water up from the surface, she tried to pick a target. Unfortunately, Masky was moving too quickly—there was a clear shot at a pirate, then Masky dodged back in front, blocked an attack, landed his own, and darted out of the way again. Maybe she could avoid hitting him if she could see better, or if she was a more practiced waterbender. But she wasn't. There was no way to miss him. That meant that she just had to be more creative.
Katara pulled up even more water, building a wave, bigger and bigger and bigger until it was enough to swallow a man—no, several men—whole.
Then she unleashed a deluge on the whole group, knocking the pirates and Masky all to the ground in a mass of soggy limbs. The remaining water crashed through the door to the hold. With a frown of concentration, she caught the wave before it reached the bottom of the steps and pulled it back up until it blocked the door like a great, watery plug. Exhaling, she froze the wave solid.
Masky scrambled to his feet, dripping, while the pirates struggled to disentangle themselves, but Katara wasn't finished. Another bulge of water rose from the sea at her command and formed into a sphere over the pirates. Then she let it drop, and before the pirates could move out of the way, she froze them too.
She could feel Masky staring at her.
"What?" she hissed. "Why are you looking at me like that?" She couldn't actually see the face under the mask, but she could feel the judgement radiating off of him. "Were you enjoying being outnumbered? Are you mad that you can't show off anymore?"
He huffed, and Katara rolled her eyes.
"Come on. We don't have a lot of time. Saltwater melts fast." She grabbed his arm to drag him down the ramp.
The moment her hands closed around his left forearm, Masky made a ghastly sound and bent almost double.
In the rush of the fight, Zuko had almost managed to forget the burn on his arm. So long as nothing touched it, he could hardly feel that it was there. And when it came to hand-to-hand combat, Zuko was a master. If he didn't want anyone to touch his left arm, no one would touch his left arm. Everything was working perfectly.
Of course, evasive combat maneuvers didn't help after the combat was over. Not when there was an overly eager girl there to grab him precisely where he was injured and yank.
Agni, that hurt. It hadn't been this bad since the burn was fresh.
To her credit, the Avatar released his arm immediately and stepped back, looking horrified.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I didn't realize you were hurt."
There was real remorse on her face. That was odd. Zuko didn't normally see that look from—well, anyone. Usually, Zuko got smugness and looks that said he deserved whatever misfortune befell him. Looks or even whispers, sometimes. It depended on the day and how bold his crew was feeling.
He clutched his left arm, jaw tight, as he willed the pain to subside.
"Here, let me see it." The Avatar touched his elbow lightly, her other hand reaching for the end of his sleeve.
Zuko slapped her hands away. He did not need help from her. He didn't want it.
She planted her hands on her hips and stared up at him, gaze boring into the blackness of his mask so that he was almost convinced that she could see his real eyes underneath. "If you're hurt, you can't just ignore it. Your arm will need treatment."
The pain began to dull a bit. He really wished that he could tell her to mind her own business. He was treating his burn just fine. He only ran into problems when a crazy waterbender doused him with saltwater and squeezed his arm.
Her eyes narrowed a bit. "Wait. I never saw you get hit. What happened? You were fighting just fine, and I didn't see any of them cut you. What happened to your arm?"
Zuko gave a short sigh. He had neither the time nor the inclination to listen to her. The pirates were already beginning to thaw out of their ice block, and Zuko needed to get the Avatar back to his ship. Somehow. Unfortunately, even as the pain dulled back to an ache, his left arm felt a little useless. That was a shame. If he could use both arms, he could have just thumped her on the head and carried her.
The Avatar was still staring at him, eyes piercing straight into his skull through the mask. Zuko frowned. He'd have to get her to go with him willingly. And to do that—
Left arm held tight against his stomach, he snatched the bag off of her shoulder and grabbed her arm.
"Hey! What are you doing?"
Zuko released her arm long enough to gesture toward the melting lump of pirate-filled ice and motioned for her to follow him.
Her eyes went wide again. "Oh. Right." She eyed the bag in his hand as she started down the ramp. "I'm perfectly capable of carrying my own bag."
Zuko gave what he hoped was a nonchalant shrug. It was difficultto communicate as the Blue Spirit. Not that he was great at communicating in the first place. Not that he would know what to say if he could speak to her. Not that she wouldn't run as far and as fast as she could if she heard his voice. But he wasn't a good liar in the first place—that had always been Azula's expertise—and it was even harder when he couldn't actually lie.
The Avatar looked suspiciously up at him out of the corner of her eye, but she made no further objection. Zuko let out a small breath. This would be so much easier if his injured arm weren't aching so badly and he could resort to force, but at least she was following. He stepped soundlessly off the ramp and glanced back just long enough to see her, then veered off toward his own ship. He had her bag, and inside it, her waterbending scroll. If she had been willing to break into a pirate ship in the middle of the night to get it, it made sense that she would follow him to get it back.
Or at least he hoped so. That was really his only plan at the moment. He tried to flex his left hand to test its strength, but that just reawakened the burn. This had to work. He had to get her close to his ship before she suspected anything, or he'd never be able to take her the rest of the way.
Katara wished it was easier to read Masky. With his face concealed, there was no expression to study, no good indication of his motives or intentions. All she had to go on was body language, and there wasn't much to see there either. He was holding his left arm a little stiff, like it hurt to move it too much, but otherwise, he was just—walking. More importantly, he was walking in the wrong direction. Camp was northeast of the village, and he was leading her south. And for some reason, he was insistent on carrying her bag.
A creeping suspicion told her that it was better not to question him. At least not while he still held her scroll.
So she watched him. There wasn't much else she could do.
He flexed his left hand and gave a tiny, almost imperceptible gasp.
Katara frowned. "Are you sure you don't want me to take a look at your arm? I'm not an expert, but I know leaving injuries untreated is never good. I know how to patch up almost anything."
Masky shook his head and held his left arm snug against his stomach, her bag still dangling from his right.
Katara pursed her lips. So he was stubborn. Well, so was she. "Okay. So did you get hit while you were fighting the pirates? I didn't see anything happen, but if it's fresh, then you really need to have someone take a look at it."
Again, he shook his head but offered no further explanation.
"So you were already hurt? And you fought anyway?"
This time, he stopped in his tracks and sighed audibly, letting his head hang back, then turned to stare her down. She had to admit that it was a little intimidating. The dark holes where his eyes should have been were spooky and blank, but at least he was still expressive. She would be more worried if he didn't get exasperated and make all those noisy sighs. She'd be worried if he was truly silent and stoic instead of—this.
"Listen, Masky, I'm just trying to figure out what's going on. I came here to get my scroll. I have no idea what you were up to."
He stared down at her for a long moment. Katara stared back.
She could almost feel the offense radiating off of him—whether it was because of the nickname or the challenge to his motives, she couldn't tell. She decided that she didn't care. He was leading her the wrong way, and he had her scroll, and as far as she could tell, he hadn't accomplished anything on the pirate ship aside from knocking a few heads together. She wanted to know why. People didn't just ambush pirate ships in the middle of the night for fun, and he had no obvious motive.
"What were you doing on that ship? You didn't take anything. I don't think you killed anyone. You had to be looking for something. What was it?" She narrowed her eyes, trying to peer into the depths of his mask, to make out any features through the eye holes. "Especially since you were already injured. Nobody is stupid enough to go into a fight that dangerous without a reason. So what was yours?"
There was a short inhalation through the mask, as though he was about to speak. Instead, he changed his grasp on the bag and caught hold of her forearm all in a single motion. His grip was firm, almost to the point of being uncomfortable. And then he tugged her forward, marching more purposefully than before away from the village, away from her campsite.
A deep unease wrapped itself around her mind as she trotted to keep up with his long stride. His grasp wasn't loosening, and he seemed to have no intention of stopping.
Maybe he wasn't going back to the pirate ship because he'd already found what he wanted. Maybe he wanted the scroll too. It was valuable, according to the pirates. Maybe Masky had been trying to steal the scroll for himself so he could sell it.
Or maybe—maybe word of her true identity had spread. Maybe between Zuko and King Bumi and Nuwa and Jet and Aunt Wu, rumors of the other Avatar had reached unfriendly ears. Maybe the masked man had only been looking for the scroll because he knew that it would interest a waterbender. And maybe Katara had unwittingly come for the bait earlier than he planned.
She went quiet, still hurrying to match his pace so he wouldn't tug too hard on her arm. She didn't dare speak. She could be wrong about all of it—maybe Masky was actually friendly, and she was just overreacting thanks to all the traps the Fire Nation had tried to lay for them since the South Pole, and thanks to Jet. But she couldn't shake the feeling of dread as he led her farther and farther from the others. Farther and farther south—with a jolt, she remembered watching Zuko and the other firebenders walking south from the harbor too.
That settled it. She had to get away. She had to get the scroll back from Masky. She had to get back to Sokka and Aang. And she had to do it all quickly enough that he couldn't follow her.
She scanned the sides of the road as the masked man dragged her along. There had to be a good place to hide—a thicket too tangled for him to navigate quickly, a ravine she could drop into, something. Then her eyes flicked forward again.
Or a bridge. A bridge would do nicely.
She could hear the rush of the water before they reached it, and she steadied her breath. The river was moving fast, and it was probably cold as well as dark.
Sokka would yell at her. Sokka would say that she was crazy for even thinking about it. That jumping into a fast-moving river at night was a stupid, reckless choice. But Sokka wasn't here right now, and Katara was a waterbender.
She waited until they were nearly halfway across the bridge before she stopped in her tracks, bracing herself so that she yanked Masky to a halt. When he swung around to face her, thrown slightly off balance, Katara grabbed his injured arm and squeezed as hard as she could.
He let out a horrible noise, a rasping cry of pain, and released his grip on her arm to protect the wound instead.
Katara snatched her bag out of his grasp, and before Masky could regain his composure, she slung it over her shoulder, and vaulted over the edge of the bridge.
The plummet down to the river was farther than she'd guessed, and the water was both faster than she'd expected and cold enough to steal the breath from her lungs. She surfaced for an instant, barely managing to suck in half a lungful of air thanks to the freezing tightness in her chest, then plunged under the surface again. She did her best to hold an open pocket of air around her head while the current carried her downstream, too fast to clearly make out obstacles in the riverbed.
Her hip rammed into a boulder, and the force of the blow spun her all the way around.
Just a little bit further, she told herself, struggling to keep enough air in her lungs as the cold and the shock of the blow set her mind spinning. If she could just make it around a bend in the river without getting hurt, she could climb out of the water and sprint back to camp on foot. Masky wouldn't be able to see where she emerged, and she would be able to escape.
If she could get out of the water.
She turned herself to face downstream again and squinted ahead into the darkness. The current dragged her sideways, and as Katara bent the water to push herself around what looked like another boulder, her shoulder scraped against a log. Her bending wavered, and her pocket of air vanished.
She had to get out of the water. And she had to do it fast.
In a dizzying rush of shadowy forms, she thought she could make out a log protruding from the bank into the middle of the river. With the last bit of air she had in her lungs, she slowed the water in front of her just enough so that she could crash into the log without breaking anything. It hurt. The river still rammed her into the log hard enough that all her remaining breath was forced out of her lungs, and she gulped down a mouthful of icy water.
Arms shaking, she hauled herself up higher on the log and coughed until she managed to expel all of the water. Ow. There was probably going to be a few nasty bruises on her hip and her stomach by morning. But when she shot a quick look back over her shoulder, she couldn't see the bridge anymore. She'd lost him.
Katara dragged herself up onto the bank, shaking and shivering. She was exhausted. And if it weren't for the cold, she might have considered resting here until morning. But she was cold, and Masky wasn't far away—she clambered to her feet and bent as much water as she could out of her clothes and her shoulder bag. She peered inside it long enough to make sure that the scroll and Sokka's machete were still there. They were. She let out a small sigh, teeth chattering, and tucked the scroll down the front of her tunic. Nobody was going to take it from her now.
Machete in hand, she picked her way through the trees toward the village, careful to stay out of sight of the road, and circled around the village through the forest. Maybe she was overreacting. She felt a small twinge of guilt. Maybe Masky wasn't actually dangerous—maybe he had actually wanted to help her, and in return, she'd hurt him and then ran away. It wasn't completely impossible. Unlikely, but not impossible.
But now that she'd escaped, she couldn't exactly go back to find out for certain. Staying out of sight was more important, especially since the pirates should be thawing out by now. But at least they'd be looking in the wrong direction if they came after her. She'd be safe enough until morning.
When she finally found the clearing again, Appa raised his massive head as if to greet her. Katara shushed the bison and tucked the machete and bag back where they belonged in the saddle. Then, shivering and aching and clutching the scroll tight to her chest, she crawled back into her sleeping bag.
She closed her eyes.
Zuko searched the forest until he could feel sunrise approaching, until his eyes grew bleary and it was harder than usual to make out detail in the forest floor through the slits in his mask. This was ridiculous. He'd had the Avatar. He'd had her, and they were mere minutes away from his ship when she'd wrenched his injured arm and thrown herself into the river. He'd never been so tantalizingly close to completing his mission before, and somehow, somehow, she'd known enough to seize an instant of opportunity and escape.
He'd almost be impressed if it weren't so maddening.
With a sigh, he tried to raise his left arm to remove his mask, but the burn twinged in protest, and he used his other hand instead. He should really keep looking. The Avatar was close, and he knew it. If he let her go now, it could be weeks until he had another opportunity to get that close again. Weeks that he couldn't afford to spare, not with Zhao out there on the hunt too.
But it had been hours since she'd jumped now, and Zuko still couldn't find where she'd gone. Once he recovered from the shock enough to move, he'd followed the river downstream all the way to the edge of the village and then doubled back and searched up the opposite bank all the way to the bridge. There were plenty of scuff marks near the edge of the water, but it was dark, and he could only see so much through the mask. He couldn't firebend for light—the Blue Spirit could not be seen firebending—and he couldn't take the mask off in case the Avatar was still close. She didn't trust him as the Blue Spirit, but she would trust him even less if she knew who he was beneath the disguise. So in the darkness, he couldn't tell whether the footprints in the slick, muddy banks belonged to the Avatar or a villager or an animal.
Zuko rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. So close. But she had bested him, and he couldn't exactly go to his crew for help with tracking her down now. Not unless he wanted them to know that he had snuck off the ship, not unless he wanted prying questions, and not unless he wanted the Blue Spirit's true identity revealed.
He couldn't have that. The Blue Spirit was effective, but he wasn't the Fire Nation's most beloved mystery. Zuko wasn't sure that Father would still want him back if it came out that Zuko and the Blue Spirit were one and the same.
He hated it. He hated that he had to give up on searching when he knew that the Avatar was so close, but he had no idea where to keep looking, and daylight was creeping nearer by the minute.
Slowly, he trudged back to the road. He'd still have time to get back to his cabin before anyone else woke up. If he was lucky, he might even have time to sneak to the infirmary first and dress the burn on his arm again.
Maybe this wasn't so bad, he told himself. He was going back empty-handed, but at least he wouldn't have to explain anything. He wouldn't have to make excuses about why he had dragged the Avatar back to the ship in the middle of the night while wearing the Blue Spirit's mask.
And he had gotten confirmation of at least one thing tonight—the Avatar could be baited. And Zuko still had a perfect piece of bait sitting at the bottom of his trunk, just waiting to be used.
Author's Note:
BLUTARA! I love me some Blutara. To be honest, I'm not even sure if this counts, since it's so antagonistic, but I also don't really care if this is a true Blutara chapter or not, because it was SO MUCH FUN to write. And have I mentioned how much I enjoy Book 1 fights? I feel like I have, but I'm gonna say it again anyway—I love when the characters are haphazardly throwing themselves around and hoping something works. And I love it even more when there's a bit of self-awareness injected into the situation, hence Katara's this-isn't-how-waterbending-is-supposed-to-work-but-it's-the-best-I've-got-so-screw-it attitude toward making a pirate popsicle.
Fun fact, there was a time (long, long ago) when I planned on doing something similar to this as a Halloween special chapter... in 2018. Ah, hubris. That was back when I thought I could fit every episode into a single 1–2k word chapter. But hey, at least it happened eventually, right? And at least I've actually reached a point where I can write on a more regular basis.
And finally! An update on... updates. I have the next few chapters drafted, but since they're part of a larger story arc (roughly equivalent to Bato of the Water Tribe) which is very rapidly growing a lot bigger than I expected, it's going to take some time for me to finish and edit that chunk of the story. I guess I'll be done when I'm done, and whenever that happens, I should have 3+ weeks of updates ready to go! Until then, reviews are very much appreciated and feel free to visit me (soopersara) on Tumblr!
