Returning to school had been rough. Even though the school uniform provided full coverage on an average day, Azula still had to layer up to hide the nasty bruises marring her neck.

It was just her luck. As the bruise on her cheek faded, she gained a new one in the shape of large handprints on her throat. She knew she looked ridiculous. They were still in that weird limbo where fall wasn't quite over, but winter was tiptoeing its way in, so it wasn't cold enough for her get up.

She donned a large hoodie with a comically long scarf, a pair of shades, and a beanie to cover her head. Would she be sweating bullets by the end of the day? Yes. Would her pride be protected by not letting anyone know that she was falling out of her father's favor? Also yes.

Still, the oddball looks were getting to her. She was sure she even heard a few people taking pictures as she walked by.

The upside was that she'd managed to avoid Chan most of the morning. It seemed like he hadn't come to school at all. Whatever the circumstances, the bastard was lucky he didn't have to face her today. She really wasn't in the mood and she needed a punching bag.

It was lunchtime now. She was in her usual spot outside and just basking in the sun and seclusion that the little abandoned bench provided her. She felt so relaxed, so calm, that she loosened the scarf around her neck a little. Just as she was about to quickly slip it from around her neck completely, she heard elephant-like footsteps barreling towards her.

She didn't even have to turn around to know who it was. She took a shaky gulp as she watched Ruon Jian maneuver his long, toned legs under the picnic table. His goofy grin in place, she couldn't fight back the tiny grin she gave him.

"Good to see you, Fujiwara!" the goofy boy exclaimed. His positive energy was magnetic.

Azula couldn't fight the way the corners of her mouth curled up. "Since when do you call me by my surname," the girl sassed, only half serious.

Ruon Jian - just as ditzy as ever - shrugged and smiled genuinely. "Dunno. Thought it'd be cool."

Azula scoffed and shook her head. This boy would be the death of her.

"Why are you dressed like you're in a tundra? It's only sixty-five degrees out?" Ruon Jian questioned.

Azula shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. She pulled her clothes tighter to her body, trying to shrink in on herself. "I'm…anemic," she responded unconvincingly.

His eyes glazed over her, eyes whirling with pity before he scooted closer to her on the bench. His hand reached forward to tuck a stray strand of hair back into her beanie. She watched his eyelids droop heavy with sadness.

"Why is your neck purple?"

Azula's heart dropped to her stomach. She sat frozen for what felt like ages. Sweat beaded - not just from the extra layers - on her back. An eerie chill ran up her spine.

She knew that someone finding out was a risk, which is why she was so meticulous about wrapping herself. But the last person she'd expected to find out was Ruon Jian.

Too vulnerable and panicked, instead of wasting time trying to come up with another bullshit excuse, she just packed her things as quickly as she could and sprinted away from him. He called out to her as she ran away, but she just stuffed herself further into her layers, too ashamed to look him in the eye.

….

All that could be heard throughout the house was the sound of wheezing accompanied by the grunts of a person training. Iroh - comfortable with a cup of tea in his office - shook his head when yet another thud followed by a pained wheeze sounded off.

His nephew would be the death of him. He admired the boy's passion - hell, with a father like Ozai how could he not want to push himself to the breaking point to prove his worth? But he was becoming truly unreasonable. His health problems automatically disqualifying him from serving mandatory service in the military was really taking a toll on him.

Iroh supposed the boy wasn't giving himself grace by his constant visits to his uncle's trophy room. Iroh wasn't completely against his nephew's training. He was spindly and scrawny. A little meat on his bones could definitely do him a world of good, but he was going to kill himself on the way there.

Finally fed up with Zuko's nonsense for the day, Iroh reluctantly rose from the comfort of his chair and headed out towards the backyard. When he opened the back door, he was immediately greeted by the sun's rays politely reaching out towards him, lovingly warming his skin. The older man took a deep breath and drank in the view. Today was a perfect day to be out training in their endless field of a backyard.

Unfortunately, that delusion was quickly shattered when he saw his nephew writhing against the ground in pain. Iroh hiked up his housecoat and shuffled his slippered feet onto the grass.

"I think that's enough for today, nephew."

Iroh crouched down - with much difficulty since arthritis had begun developing in his knees - and gathered Zuko in his arms with all his might. He made a grunt as he rose to pull the teenaged boy up, but Zuko had his own agenda. He suddenly seemed to gain some strength and pushed his beloved uncle away.

"No! That's the problem now. I'm not enough," he shouted, not privy to his own strength.

While Zuko's back was turned, ready to go through another set of martial arts moves, Iroh had fallen to the ground with a loud thud. He held back a wince, feeling a bruise forming on his bottom. He struggled to stand once again, but the task was more strenuous because of his lack of energy.

In the stretch of time that it had taken him to rise to steady feet, Zuko hadn't so much as glanced back once. Iroh huffed a hot breath through his nose. Now he was pissed. He marched up to his nephew - limp in his stride - and blocked his hand from completing a set.

The young boy wasn't too happy about being forcibly stopped and moved to untangle himself from his uncle's iron grip. Unfortunately, he'd forgotten how his uncle had become such a decorated fighter. He easily clutched Zuko's hand again, got him off his feet as he went flying for a moment, brought him back down to the ground only to twist his arm behind his back and have him keel over at the waist.

Without seeing his face, Iroh knew that his nephew was embarrassed. Too bad he wasn't in the mood to comfort him.

"What are you trying to prove?!" he screamed as he pulled Zuko up by the collar, releasing the hold he had on his arm.

The boy was still stubborn as ever as he kept his eyes lurking in every direction but his uncle's face. Iroh shook with rage before just letting the boy flop to the ground. He didn't have the patience to deal with a moody teenager today.

….

Avoiding Ruon Jian proved to be an arduous task. He seemed to know where she was at all times. She was sure she hadn't crawled so much since she was a baby. Azula took shelter behind lockers, desks, people, doors, and everything else imaginable. The boy was persistent if nothing else. She hated how it was both something that she adored and loathed about him.

She was able to lose him by the end of the day. They both had to attend their respective after school sports practices, so she was banking on no random pop-ups throughout that time. Azula was fine for the most part.

Aside from all the peculiar looks sent her way about her…fashion choices, nobody thought she was anymore stand-offish than she usually was. She was still sweating bullets though and even erred on the brink of fainting. When Coach Kyoshi pulled her to the side about her get up and shakiness through practice, the girl was very adamant about being fine and not taking off her extra garments under any circumstances.

Kyoshi seemed to understand her refusal, but instead of releasing her back into the mock game the team was playing, she sent her to the nurse's office and told her not to return to practice until she found a new, more practical fashion trend. Azula was a bit peeved as she hastily packed her things and headed to the student pick-up center, but she was relieved.

She'd made it through an entire day without being discovered. Er - almost not being discovered. She was sure that Ruon Jian wasn't done with her yet.

The twins Lo and Li arrived to pick her up. Thank goodness they did. Surely she would've passed out had she had to walk home in all these clothes.

She let the window down as she rode home in silence, the wind caressing her heated skin and tangling her hair. She dressed down as she sat in the back seat. A sigh escaped her lips. Despite the ugly coloring of her neck, she couldn't fight the calm that spilled over her body. It was nice not to be panicking all throughout the day about her appearance.

She felt reborn, washed away of all the sins that colored her. She thought to herself - who would she be if she had the chance to start things over? To be a whole new person? Another version of Azula that maybe her father would be proud of?

But time wasn't kind to her. The drive home was short and abrupt. The ecstasy that the free and flighty wind provided her was quickly brought to a halt as it stilled before her house. There wasn't even a slight chill to sweep up the wisps of her hair despite the settling cold of the past few days.

Azula's heart hammered in her ears. She barely even registered the clopping her heeled dress shoes made as she mounted the driveway path to the front door.

Lo and Li - wary of her sudden listlessness - opened the door for her. She probably would've stood there all night just clenching and unclenching her fists if they hadn't been there. She slowly sifted her foot over the threshold apprehensive of what tonight could possibly bring.

The moments in between her foot lifting and landing registered as years in her mind. Sweat pooled in all her uncomfortable crevices. A shiver, not from the night's cold, ran up her spine. When in the hell had she become so frightened to enter her own home?

A weight lifted from her chest when her first step finally made contact with the floor. She sighed, thankful for the quiet that blanketed the house. But she would soon grow uncomfortable in it. Ozai's figure flashed across the room as she finally gathered the strength to enter the house.

"Good evening father," she called out to a retreating figure. Not once did he look up from the file he held steadfast in his hand. He simply pushed his reading glasses up the bridge of his nose and kept on walking by.

She winced when she heard the slam of his office door. Lo and Li - sensitive to the girl's moods - went to approach her for some comfort, but Azula set off down the hall before either could get a word of reason in.

She gently tapped on her father's door. She knew better than anyone else how privy her father was to his privacy. She waited with hands fidgeting in her lap for a response that would give her clearance to enter. Several minutes dragged on before she realized he hadn't replied.

Maybe he didn't hear me, she mused knowing full well that that was likely not the case at all. Azula tapped at his office door again, this time carefully opening the door in quick succession. She peeked in like a curious child. He still had yet to draw his eyes from his files. Ozai continued sifting through a pile as if nothing else more in the world could be happening.

Azula felt a pit grow in her stomach. She dug her fingers into her sides trying to assuage the uncomfortable feeling.

"My volleyball team has a few games coming up," she babbled, the words spilling from her mouth like a spilled drink. "I-I do hope that with your…oft busy schedule that you'll designate some time to come to one."

There was a deadly silence that followed. The only sound that registered was the printer whirring as her father hit a few keys on his computer monitor. He stood to gather whatever copies had been made and plopped back down into his seat with a grunt.

Azula - defeated and humiliated - lowered her head. She backed out of Ozai's office, drawing the door closed with her. She stood before the closed door dazed. It felt like the world had fallen off its axis. She didn't know what to do as she stood in that dark hallway waiting for something…anything to happen.

Her father's footsteps clambered to the other side of the door. She could see the shadows obscuring the light that poured through the door's cracks. For a moment, hope welled in her chest. For what she didn't know, but she stepped forward with goofy, childish happiness, hand outstretched toward the door knob.

All she heard was the door lock before those heavy footsteps turned to a squeaking chair. Azula withdrew her hand and stepped back. This time her body shook with an unknown emotion. Her hands became unsteady, her eyes glossed over, and there was a strange tightening sensation in her throat. As the flustered heat settled into her face, she sprinted to her room and locked the door.