"Lucky girl." Go-Hara rasps one day. "Lucky, lucky girl." She tsks.

"How can you say that?" Azula asks. The very question is an absolute affront. One that sets her fire blazing to a degree she hasn't felt in a very long time.

"Because you had a chance." She pauses and corrects herself. "You have a chance and you're throwing it away."

Azula furrows her brows and shakes her head, "You had it right the first time, I had a chance. My chance is gone." Twice over. It would seem that each time she has her fingers (very firmly) around something that will make her happy, someone comes to pry her fingers off of it. Or maybe she squeezes too tightly and shatters it herself.

The old woman tsks again. "You have a chance! You have a chance! You. Have. A. Chance!" Azula should be used to her turbulent moods by now, but this time the woman is acting rather infantile. She wonders if the disease has progressed, wonders if leprosy can even do such a thing to the mind.

"We should talk about something else."

"You should stop playing in alleyways and make a life for yourself…"

"I already tried that." Twice over.

Quick and deadly as a lightning strike, the woman's mood shifts. She is very visibly enraged and Azula can't understand why. She thinks that Go-Hara detects her confusion. "I don't have a chance. I'd give anything to have one. But…" she holds up her knobby hands, "Every day in this decrepit town, I watch perfectly healthy folks waste what they have. Nobody wants to fight for anything anymore. They fail once or twice and they decide that there's nothing to fight for."

Azula opens her mouth. But Go-Hara rages on, her fury seems to build with every word and by the end of her raving her voice is raw and soft, "that's because they don't know what it's like to truly be in a position where fighting isn't an option." She backpedals, "where it's an option but it truly doesn't matter how much fight you have in you, you're punching at a breeze. And I just have to watch them give up, wishing that I had the chance to just throw my life away. I don't even have a life to throw away."

Her breathing is rugged.

There are a lot of things that Azula can say. Things that are better. Things that could calm the woman down or appease her. She picks the one thing that will do anything but. "Perhaps you're the lucky one; you don't have to fight to die like the rest of us."

Go-Hara turns on her heel and storms away. She is startlingly fast, Azula chalks it up to pure hatred fueled adrenaline.

She doesn't see the woman again for a very long time.

It is so terribly lonely and the more she thinks about it, the more pleasant it seems to prove to Go-Hara, to herself, to everyone that she is ready to see herself out. Maybe that will drive home how little of a chance she knows she has. Or maybe there is no one to prove anything to. Likely Go-Hara has died like everyone else she gets close to. This time the note is a bitter one to end on.

She ventures into the forest that day and she comes back with a few sprigs of hemlock in her gloved hands. She finds that her usual spot is occupied. She counts the flowers in her hands, there is plenty of spare hemlock to offer the intruder.

"Where were you?"

"Picking flowers." They fall to the alley floor.

Go-Hara eyes the hemlock at her feet, "bah! Some bouquet that is."

"I thought that you died."

She thinks that the woman is snarling. But it is often hard to tell with Go-Hara, especially these days. The woman's worsening condition is beginning to limit her facial movement. "I am going to lose this fight." She declares. "But I'm still fighting." The resentment is back, possibly fuller than before. "You can win but you've stopped fighting."

Azula swallows and waits for the woman to demand that she pick herself back up and resume the battle. Instead she gestures to the flowers. "Go on then. They're right there, eat 'em off'a the dirty ground."

Azula folds her arms over her chest, torn between hatred and misery. Torn between wanting to do just that, if only to see how the woman would react, and wanting to kick the flowers away out of spite.

Instead she finds herself standing there. Now that it is happening, she wonders how it hasn't happened sooner; she finds herself wondering about Hajime and Atsu in the Spirit World. She imagines herself standing there in a bubbling hot spring with bamboo that reaches gold-orange clouds. There is steam all around,enchanting as it crawls over black sand, and curls around formations of long hardened magma. That is how she has always imagined the Spirit World. And Hajime and Atsu stand in the pool, Seukhyun and Caihong too. But they aren't delighted to see her. And when Hajime embraces her it is mournful. He blames himself. He says that she shouldn't be here. Ojihara is furious. Absolutely livid. Just like Go-Hara…

When she comes back to herself she finds that the real Go-Hara isn't angry at all. Not anymore.

"I just want you to have a chance." The woman mumbles. "I met a lot of people and a lot of them don't deserve to live."

She has always appreciated the woman's bluntness.

"Why do you think that I do?"

The woman shrugs. "Sometimes you just get a feeling about a person."

Azula doesn't take the hemlock that night or the next. She doesn't take it at all. Go-Hara doesn't bring up matters of motivation again.

.oOo.

"Are you happy?" Azula asks one morning. A morning where things aren't particularly good nor particularly bad. These are the honest days. The days when she truly knows how she feels within.

"Happy?" The woman grins as wide as her affliction will allow. "I'm downright joyful! I've gotten to see more sunsets than most people. I got to ride hippo-cows and lasso ostrich horses." Azula thinks that it is supposed to be the other way around, not that she knows much about ranches. "And I got to meet a princess before I died! They call me a dead woman walking, but I've lived more than the lot'a them!" Suddenly her laugh isn't such a hideous sound. This is the Go-Hara whose company she enjoys.

"Sounds, fulfilling." Azula nods.

"Aye, girl!" She nods. "You're no lepper. You have a full life to live. I ain't got much longer. Can you do a dying old woman a favor?"

"Depends on the favor."

Go-Hara chuckles. "Can you live that full life for me? I can't do it, can you?"

That morning she leaves a blanket in the alleyway, at the old woman's feet. On an old scrap of paper she scawls a thank you.

And with the rising sun as a backdrop, she heads for the vast grassland again.

That day she learns that sometimes the sick are less ill than the healthy.

.oOo.

She thinks about it more than she thought she would. It was just a little touch. A soft little brush. But she has learned that those smaller, simpler touches are often more profound than the bolder declarations. She absently touches her cheek where his hand had been. She can still feel phantom tingles.

It was only a playful gesture…

Only a playful gesture and yet…

She hears a knock on her door and her heart quickens if only somewhat. Upon opening it, TyLee flounces into the room and flops onto the bed. Azula had forgotten that the woman liked to do that.

"I know that you don't like baking, but Mai's birthday is tomorrow…"

Azula had forgotten that too. Granted she has never really had time for birthdays.

"I was hoping that we could bake her something special. She doesn't like the icing on the other cakes, it's 'too bright'. I think that it's just fine though."

"Sure, TyLee, I'll help you bake." Though she can't promise that it will be any good. Hajime had tried time and time again to teach her to cook the things she harvested but the culinary arts are lost on her.

"Great!" TyLee bounces up once more. She takes Azula by the hand and drags her into the kitchen.

"Okay so I've already…"

"Made a huge mess." Azula observes. At least she won't have to feel guilty for wrecking the kitchen.

"Yeah, that's pretty much it."

"I can't cook, TyLee."

She stares at Azula. Azula stares back. The princess is beginning to gather that she had been summoned under the impression that she could make something of this mess.

"You didn't learn to cook in the Earth Kingdom?"

She shakes her head. "I know how to roast meat." Even then she usually burns it quite badly. "Have you tried asking Zuzu?"

TyLee nods. "It wasn't this bad before he got here. The head chef personally escorted him out."

.oOo.

The first step had been to clean the kitchen. Azula is good at this. She probably should have gotten one of the servants to do it for her but she needs to know with certainty that her baking area is absolutely spotless. And with her hand having done the work, she knows that it is.

TyLee drops two eggs into the flour mix.

Azula shakes her head.

"It says, two eggs'."

"Yes." Azula agrees as she cracks it against the rim of the bowl. She cringes as the yolk bursts in her palm. "two cracked eggs."

TyLee nods. She too rams the an egg against the bowl, dropping the smashed bits into the mix.

"Without the shells."

"Whoops." She purses her lips as she begins picking shell shards out. "Well how do we get the yolk out without getting shell bits?"

"You open it correctly."

"How?"

Azula wipes her hands clean and shrugs. She plucks another egg and tries again. Just when she thinks that the yolk will slide easily free, it explodes again, spattering her face with yolk. She crinkles her nose and wipes the mess from her forehead.

"You have to be gentle." TyLee suggests. She picks up another egg and taps it on the rim of the bowl. This time she only has to pick a few pieces of shell from the mix.

"TyLee, can I ask you something?" She asks upon finally putting the cake in the oven. She will let the servants determine when to take it out.

"Sure, Azula!"

She swallows, before back peddling in her mind, "firstly, did you read my journal with Zuko?"

She cringes, "was I not supposed to?"

"I was hoping that you did."

TyLee relaxes, "why?"

"Do you think that…" She pauses. "Do you think that Hajime would be angry if I found someone else." It is a silly question, Hajime can't get mad at her, he is dead.

"Oh, Azula!" TyLee takes her by the wrists, she thinks of a beach party so long ago, hadn't TyLee been trying to give her love advice then too? "I think that he would be happy that you aren't hurt or alone anymore." Still holding Azula's hand she presses it over the princess' heart.

"Okay."

"Who is it?" TyLee beams.

She isn't sure how TyLee doesn't know already. She hasn't exactly been around that many people. And then she does seem to connect the dots. She gives a happy little gasp and covers her mouth, "it's Sokka, isn't it?"

She nods.

Still she finds herself hesitant.

.oOo.

She takes the time to wash her floury, yolky hair and changes into fresh silks. She is offered lotions and perfumes and she helps herself to at least a little of it. She thinks that she is finally starting to settle more fully and comfortably back into her old lifestyle. At least a touch anyhow.

"The cake tastes good, what's it for?"

Azula's face flashes red, "Sokka, you didn't!"

He throws his hands up, "I didn't, I didn't! Promise." He drops his hands. "But it smells good."

Azula exhales. Truly she should knock the man on his ass. "It's for Mai, can't you tell."

He taps his chin. "Gloomy colors. 'Birthday' spelled with little mochi chunks and no 'happy'. Yeah I can tell it's for Mai."

"I thought that we should just give her the mochi."

"I didn't realize that you can cook."

Azula gives a dismissive gesture. "Wait until you taste it to make assumptions."

He laughs. "I guess that you can't be good at everything." He takes a seat next to her on the bed, his hand brushes over hers briefly before he finds an unoccupied spot to put it. But she finds it again and without a word she takes it. He stares for a moment, at her hand in his.

"What's this?" He holds up their hands.

She clears her throat, "it is my hand, Sokka. And yours. I would imagine that you have known what a hand is for a while now."

He rolls his eyes. "I know what hands are! I just want to know why you're holding mine."

"Because it is here." And she wonders if that is all there is to it. He is simply there and available. But she doesn't think that this is the case. She is holding his hand because it is his hand. The hand that hovered over hers when she'd first woken up dazed and distraught, it is the hand that took hers at the theater, the hand that guided her as she learned to sew, the hand that held hers when she was falling apart.

He chuckles again. "I don't exactly know what that means, Azula."

But she does, she knows exactly what it means and she finds that she is just as hesitant to say it as she had been with Hajime. Perhaps more so. She hasn't been around Sokka nearly as long as she had been around Hajime-not affectionately anyhow. She doesn't know how to say it, not in a poetic and elegant way.

And maybe that is just it, maybe it isn't something that is meant to be spoken at all.

Anyways, she had promised Go-Hara that she would live. That she wouldn't waste her youth and her pretty face. She had promised to truly live. She doesn't give herself time to overthink it. She cups Sokka's face in her hands and pulls his face closer for a kiss. Her first one in a very, very long time.