Rekindling
Chapter 6
Last night's rain, which has seeped into your ever-trembling heart, flows atop your scars, as though it were washing away your past.
The rope that should have been fastened has come undone, as though from the very beginning, ships were never able to stay in one place.
Always lost, no longer even able to go back home, your voice shouts, ''Find me!'' - though still, nobody hears.
So lonely, clutching your knees and waiting - ''I'm all alone...''
Always wandering, no longer even able to scream, only walking through the darkness.
''I'm all alone, just as I've always been...''
I won't let you say things like that anymore.
(Polaris, Aimer)
Zuko was sure Yane was on her period.
"I told you to bring the umbrella."
Flinching from the tone of her voice, Zuko took an effort not to look away as she held his eyes with an accusing sheen. Her eyelashes glinted with remnants of tears, her cheeks flushed. For whatever reason, even for the pettiest little thing, he found that he hated her tears more than a million of things in this world.
"I know. I forgot, okay?" he scratched the back of his head with unsaid frustration. "I'm sorry."
"No, it's okay," she hastily told him, grabbing a hold onto his wrist unconsciously. "I'm just overly emotional because I think I'm about to have."
He gave her a noncommittal shrug in response. "I figured that out hours ago. Don't feel bad about it. It's my fault I left our umbrella by the door."
She took in a deep breath and released a puff of air in a defeated sigh. Sullenly, she glared at the rain like it had offended her, lower lip puckered out and eyes downcast. Zuko heard the soft drizzle pattering against the tiles of the pagoda they were taking refuge in. Then, he remembered.
"Hey, you haven't tried the roasted soy bean matcha latte yet."
Yane stared at the cup in his hand blankly. "Was the name of the drink that long?"
"You told me to get you anything with 'roasted' on it," he reminded as she received the cup and brightened considerably.
"You didn't get anything for yourself?" she asked before taking a sip.
"I'll grab something when we get out of here."
The drizzle was steadily becoming a downpour. Zuko silently cursed himself for even saying that out loud knowing the kind of rotten luck he carried in his pocket. Yane had wanted to visit the botanical gardens in the famous Golden Gate Park. She had charged into the tea shop one day, smile so bright it singed his retinas, and had immediately demanded him to bring her to the park for finally being accepted in Caduceus.
Gazing back at her, Zuko noted the new dress she especially picked out for this occasion. The black floral dress that reached the soles of her feet had some sort of a slit that revealed her legs, and Zuko would be lying if he said that the outfit didn't look demurely sexy on her. She badly needed a new profile picture, she had said so shamelessly, but with the rate the rain was going, she might end up with only selfies.
"We could go back to the Redwood Trail," he said, averting his eyes from her figure before she turned back to him.
"Now?" she intoned, incredulous. "Look at the rain, man. It's pouring! You can't expect us to go running under the rain like kids."
"You mean you haven't tried that?"
She gave him a dubious look. "Have you?"
Zuko held the knowing glance for while, hoping his face wouldn't betray the lie he had formed in between his teeth. "Yes."
She snorted and took a sip from her drink. "Like heck you'd be allowed to play in the rain and risk catching colds."
"I know my childhood sucked," he remarked, crossing his arms.
Blinking at his statement and sudden change of tone, Yane placed her cup beside her and reached out for his wrist again. Her hand was warm after a moment of holding onto the cup.
"I didn't mean to bring back sad memories, Zuko."
A soft breeze blew through his hair, the smell of the rain quickly filling his senses and lulling him to succumb to the melancholic but relaxing atmosphere. He remembered. The sky was also in the hue of gray that day. Not a speck of sunshine nor a crack of lightning even attempted to shed some color in that monotone sky.
"Before I got this scar, my childhood was... more normal."
"You don't have to—" she started, probably about to tell him that there wasn't any need to share a delicate piece of his life if he didn't want to.
His scar. This mark of dishonor. A permanent imperfection on his porcelain skin that everyone scrutinised at. From the corner of his eye, he caught the quick dart of her eyes to him again, or rather, to where the said blemish was on his face. Yane had always looked at him squarely, not at his left side with any trace of curiosity or pity, but now, he could feel her stare brewing with something akin to despair and rage.
His hand drifted up to touch the tight flesh on his cheek almost without realizing it, and saw her recoiling, knowing she had been caught staring.
"Have you heard of the Yong Fu Scandal?"
She placed the cup in front of her mouth, then warily said, "I've read about it."
"The 89 employees were affected when the oil rig that exploded—16 dead, 73 injured. A small fisherman boat carrying 2 people. Both dead. The oil that spilled into the sea, killing—I don't know, hundreds of marine life? All the casualties were pinned unto Yong Fu Corporation. Agni Enterprises kept its hands spotless amidst what the world the dubbed 'Most Tragic Corporate Scandals of the Decade'. You'll never see our company's name in any of the headlines."
Yane contemplated on his words, her eyebrows knitted together. "That's not the case, is it? Agni is partly responsible for it."
A battered smile ripped across his mouth, a mask that became sorely familiar through the reflection in Yane's eyes. "You've only half right. Agni wasn't just partly responsible. My father and his board members conspired to bring Yong Fu to its end by making it seem like the oil drilling rig malfunctioned and subsequently exploding due to Yong Fu's negligence."
Her arm abruptly stopped midway to her mouth, spilling some of her drink on her skirt. Slowly, she turned her head to meet his shameful eyes with horror speaking to him in great volumes.
"It wasn't an accident?" she whispered, voice low and unbelieving.
"No," he confirmed, the faces of those monsters flashing across his memories like a broken tape. "I was there when they were planning it. Me and my sister, both. But unlike her, I didn't keep quiet. I spoke against my father's righthand man. I argued against each of their points and pointed out the cruelty of the plot they were getting to. I thought my father was on my side. He kept his silence, up until the very end of the discussion. And that made me so proud of myself for the first time."
Zuko covered his scar with his palm, voice quivering as he continued, "I thought he finally acknowledged me as worthy to be called his son. Until we got home, alone in his study. He stared at the fireplace without any word, while stupid me kept on talking about removing the board members from their positions. I didn't see it coming.
"He threw a burning log at me. I didn't have time to react. The next thing I knew, I was on the floor, clawing at my face. I never understood much about fire's destruction until I felt it sear through my flesh."
Zuko peered through the cascade of rain. The plants were no longer visible under the curtain of shower that kept the two of them inside an isolated bubble in this Japanese pagoda. The rhythmic sibilant sounds kept the silence from joining them as a companion.
"You did the right thing," her voice cut across the rain's continuous strumming.
He frowned at her. "I lost everything I owned after that night. I lost my home."
"You lost the things that didn't matter," she said firmly, her hand now balled around his closed fist. "You lost the things that kept you from being the true you. Your father. Your sister. Your company. You did something to save those people. It was more honorable than anything your father has ever done. At that moment, you surpassed the person he was."
He thought her words were familiar. Ah. His uncle Iroh had said something similar to that. The first time he heard them, he was still enslaved by the voices of his father. None of what Uncle Iroh had told him made anything close to sense.
But, now...
He finally understood.
"The words that kept coming out of my mouth after that was 'I need to regain my honor'. My uncle repeatedly told me 'there was no crown to reclaim'. I get it now."
"Does your uncle always speak in metaphors?" she asked jokingly.
Chuckling, he nodded. "Uncle Iroh is an weirdo who's addicted to tea. You should meet him someday. You're going to enjoy his sense of humor."
"Is it like yours?"
"No," he said abruptly, almost sounding offended.
"Good," she laughed. "Then, I'll surely enjoy it."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing," Yane said lightly, holding her cup again. "You're blessed, you know that? You have a really cool uncle who goes through lengths to be there for you. You have friends who make sure you stay on the right path."
Aang's face came first, earnest glint in his gray orbs the first time he met him in the US. To Zuko's dismay, the cheerful expression on the young monk's face melted to reveal the crippling hurt and betrayal coming in the form of unshed tears and silent accusations.
"Aang's the only living witness to Agni's involvement in the Yong Fu Scandal. His mother held strong pieces of evidence against us and was about to stand as a whistleblower just before the oil rig explosion, but my father's men were a lot faster. She was murdered by a squad of men dispatched by the Hong family. A bullet to her head was all that was needed to silence her.
"Aang was only able to procure some of the papers prior to her death and he fled to the US."
"And your father thought he was a big threat?" Yane wondered out loud.
"Of course," he agreed, recalling the piercing stare his father had given him when the Hong patriarch announced the hunt for the young witness. "No matter how seemingly inconsequential the evidences Aang held, they held value to Yong Fu in clearing their name from this scandal. Not to mention, as the biggest fish in the Chinese industry, Agni Enterprises has a lot of competitors seeking different means to diminish the political and economical power it held."
Hong Ozai hired professionals from a Chinese criminal order to track Aang down, capture him and bring him back to China alive. Seeing the opportunity to get rid of his son and make him useful at the same time, Ozai arranged a flight for Zuko to America to join the manhunt.
It was a cruel punishment, one that Zuko had always accepted as something he gravely deserved for defying and humiliating his father in front of all those powerful men. It was, he realized, the best thing's that ever happened to him.
If he hadn't been sent away from home, he would've still lived under the shadow of his father, ignorantly begging to become a monster like him.
"You were the one who found him," Yane said with a low voice.
"By pure luck," Zuko sighed, relieved but slightly disturbed. "Aang had changed his identity and became a monk. Shaved his head, tattooed a weird looking arrow on it. Imagine my surprise when he comes into the tea shop one unexpected morning, like a gold bar dropped on my lap. He thought I didn't want to have anything to do with my father, after what he did to me. He took pity on me and befriended me without any doubt. I took advantage of that kindness.
"It would've been easy," Zuko laughed as if he's been the subject of someone's joke, and maybe, he thought, he was. "I beat my father's men into finding the whistleblower. I knew I was going to get what I've been wanting from my dad. All I needed to do was take Aang back, and I'll get my family back."
Wrapping her arms around herself, she shifted on her seat so he could see her face, lightly illuminated by what little glow the sun gave through the clouds. Sensing his stare, she grinned at him, knowing and accepting.
"You didn't," she said.
"I didn't," he confirmed. "And you know the rest of the story."
The rain continued to murmur, a white noise that Zuko started noticing again once they stopped talking. The orange-haired doctor extended her legs beyond the ledge of the pagoda, crossing them together and letting her exposed toes soak under the gentle drizzle. He watched the droplets of water collide with the gray-rose leather of her sandals before they race each other to the puddle by the side of her feet.
"It probably doesn't mean much if I say it. But I'm really proud of you, Zuko."
Zuko averted his eyes from her shoes to her collarbones, to dip of her neck, then to the tiny upturn of her lips. There were so many things he wanted to tell her, but he had no idea how to compress all of these feelings into tangible words that could properly get his message across.
Yane gave up the meager amount of water she had to nurse her own scalded wounds just so she could wash some of it over his scars.
"Can I touch it?" Yane asked.
He realized she was looking at the left side of his face where his hand had once again unconsciously settled to.
With some reluctance, he dropped his hand and nodded.
Carefully, as though he was a delicate porcelain, Yane feathered her fingertips over the ridge of his eye. She lightly brushed over his closed eye and traced the jagged line of his scar to the lobe of his ear. Her fingers now felt cold to his face and Zuko had to clench his hands to keep himself from shivering or pulling her hand from his skin.
"There's nothing to be ashamed of," she said like she's read his internal thoughts. "This scar makes you beautiful. It's a reminder of your nobility and of the pure heart you have."
When he opened his eyes, he saw her obsidian irises glimmer. He couldn't help but lean to her touch.
Yane trailed her hand to the side of his neck before chuckling, "Of course, I also mean you look handsome outside."
Zuko felt his ears blaze at the bold comment, quickly tearing his eyes from her smug face. "You're unbelievable," he muttered under his breath.
"Aww," she cooed, cupping his face with both hands now. "Is Prince Zuko embarrassed by this little, pretty commoner?"
Regaining his composure, he stared back at her evenly, as if daring her to look away. "I knew we should've stayed at Redwood Trail."
"Huh, why? There's no roof there. Our clothes will be soiled by the time we get home."
"That's the point," he shrugged. "At least you'll have an excuse to cuddle beside me for warmth."
Yane could only stare at him when it came tumbling out of his mouth, and surprisingly, Zuko felt no embarrassment over the seemingly flirtatious comment. He found that it was becoming easier to speak his mind and desire to get closer to her. It was an addicting thought.
It was also empowering.
She released his face and sighed almost contentedly, "Well, who knew you could be this romantic."
"You think?" he laughed. "Mai wouldn't agree with you."
He regretted it the second he said it. He sneaked a peak under his long lashes and felt an instant wave of relief when Yane kept that smile intact.
"Do I need an excuse to cuddle with you, though?" she laughed.
Zuko pretended to give it some thought before heaving a feigned, defeated sigh. "I guess not. When did you realize you liked me, anyway?"
Yane gestured to all of him. "Who said I liked you?"
"There are some things better expressed without the use of words," he retorted in response.
He was met with silence to his mild and disappointed surprise. Had he been wrong to assume she liked him back after all? He may be awkward as much as awkward could go, admittedly so, but Zuko was no longer the insensitive teen he used to be back in his hometown. He understood those attentive glances she generously shed over him, soft stares entwined with admiration. It didn't take someone experienced in this field to know how loud her actions had been towards him.
Unless, of course, he was being lured to a delusional state yet again.
"No, stop," she ordered abruptly, slapping him out of the trance he was about to venture in. "I know what you're thinking. I can read it all over your face."
She sighed when he merely prodded her to continue with his unresponsiveness.
"Remember when I choked on my milk tea because the boba almost went down the wrong pipe?"
He nodded slowly, a smile threatening to make spill out of his mashed lips.
"And I ended up coughing like I was dying and accidentally knocking over my drink? I felt really awful that time because it hurt to breathe and the drink I've waited three weeks to buy went down the drain. Literally. Then you started laughing. It was the first time I've heard to laugh. Not a scoff of amused disbelief. Not a low, conservative chuckle. A real laugh."
Biting on her bottom lip, she looked as though she was having a difficult time moving on and explaining her thoughts about that tidbit of memory he himself has almost forgotten. He could see the internal debate dancing in her eyes, until she snapped them shut and resigned to opening her mouth to speak her mind.
"You laughed, then you suddenly stopped. You looked so surprised. It's as if it's also the first time you heard yourself laugh. It was nice... and sad at the same time."
Zuko searched her face for any traces of emotions she tried to keep but could find none but sincere compassion. "...You fell for me because of that?"
"I think real life oxymorons are exhilarating," her voice was barely a whisper. "Things that are contradictory yet there ain't any other way they could be perfect but with each other. You're somewhat like an embodiment of that idea. A beautiful tragedy. Tragic because of what life put you through. Beautiful, because your purity was made even more apparent through the pruning."
A dull ache pulsed in his chest. "You overestimate me," he argued weakly.
"I did no such thing. Anyway," she drawled out before hopping to her feet and making a beeline out of the pagoda.
With eyes widening at her sudden movement, he shouted, "Yane! What the hell? You're going to get sick!"
"Stop overreacting, Royal Sourpuss," Yane laughed and stayed under the veil of shower. "Rain's about to stop, anyway. Look, you can already see the golden hour sunlight. You need to take this opportunity to get a nice photo of me. Hurry! Hurry!"
"You're really crazy!" he yelled, all the while scrambling for his phone.
As though she had the decade-worth of modelling skill, she slid her foot and crossed it over the other. She tossed locks of copper hair, twisting her body as she did so. Yane raised a hand to her head like she had an ongoing migraine, and truth be told, Zuko never had enough brain cells to understand women and their headache poses, but he couldn't find it in him to jeer at her.
The way she moved like she was dancing, under the scarlet rays of the sun, with her hair a reminiscence of a raging fire, that visage of a princess ruling over flames—it was mesmerising.
Where had he seen it?
"Zuko!" she yipped, puncturing through his sphere of thoughts. "Hurry up! And make sure you capture my good angle."
"Yeah, yeah! Hold on for a second!"
Hong Zuko looked at her one more time before snapping the photo.
A/N: Yong Fu literally means forever rich/wealthy/fortunate. Wanted to paint an irony here with the words. Thanks for reading!