Zuko loves to read, but he's out of folk tales and other stories of legend to keep him entertained. He's read all the scrolls he could reach- some of them twice, His mother, as well as the librarian, have been nice enough to pick out a few scrolls for him on the higher shelves, but both of them are too busy to help him at the moment. He thinks hard on what he wouldn't mind rereading. The Legend of The Painted Lady is too boring. The Tale of Genji and The First Dragon catches his eye, but he remembers that adventure almost as clearly as he does Love Amongst the Dragons.
Not a problem, the 6-year-old decides. He'll just have to start looking in new places. He usually sticks to the lore or literature sections, but maybe he can find a cool war story. So, he starts picking through scrolls at random, starting with the farthest corner of the palace library. Unfortunately, the history section doesn't have anything that looks promising- almost none of the scrolls have pictures- so he moves on. Sitting in front of the natural sciences section, he unrolls his latest pick, and blinks in surprise.
The yellow paper shows a drawing of a man, knees slightly bent, one arm tucked close to his chest, and a fist stretched out in front of him. Chi paths run through the man's body in faded shades of red. Small, messy lettering covers the edges of the pages, explaining how firebending works with big words he doesn't know how to say yet.
Zuko has only just started to show signs of being able to produce flames at will. For as long as he can remember, his lessons have mostly been breathing exercises, and stance work. Recently, his training has also included letting his chi take over one of Master Kunyo's small flames, as well as learning his first basic kata. He's only made his own fire a few times, because his master says Zuko just isn't ready for more right now. His academic tutors say the same thing- that Zuko isn't very smart, and that he can't move onto the next set of lessons right now. Which is kind of confusing, because he thought reading a lot would make him smarter.
This scroll, though… Zuko hasn't ever seen a scroll like this before. Even though he doesn't understand what any of the words mean, his large eyes don't leave the page.
The naked man in the picture makes him curious. Between the diagram's bare legs is a really big finger. It looks a little familiar, like he's seen it before, but he can't remember where. Zuko definitely doesn't have a finger down there, and he thinks he would know if he did. He wants to learn more about it, too. He wants to ask his mom for help, but he's kind of afraid to. He doesn't know why, but it almost feels like he found something he shouldn't have. After all, people wear clothes, and the man in the picture wasn't wearing any. Is that bad? Zuko isn't allowed to walk around without any clothes on- it makes yhe servants really nervous. Would his mom be mad at him if she knew he had seen the scroll- if he had seen a naked person?
When she asks what he read about today, he thinks it's as good a time as any to bring it up. He tells her about the weird finger-thing, too, because he just can't get it off his mind.
"If I'm really good, can I have one?" he asks, a little shy as he stares at his feet.
She doesn't answer right away. When he looks up at his mother, his eyes go wide when he sees how surprised she looks. She clears her throat, quickly giving him a small smile. Zuko just looks at her for a second, wondering if he had said something bad, but he relaxes a little when she motions for him to come sit with her. He crawls into her lap, leaning back against her warm chest, because Mom is soft, and gentle, and kind. Her arms wrap around him, and her touch makes him feel calm right away. The nervous butterflies in his tummy flutter off when he realises she's not mad about his questions. She's just thinking really hard about how to answer them. That must be why her cheeks are so red.
"What you saw isn't something you can grow later on in life, sweetheart," she tells him.
Her words don't make any sense. "What do you mean?"
She explains to him the differences between boys and girls. Only boys have that body part, and they're born with it. She says Zuko is a girl, so Zuko doesn't have one, and never will. That thought… kind of makes him sad.
And he doesn't really understand- why does a dangly thing between someone's legs make them a boy?- but for now, he just nods and listens. He doesn't ask too many questions, because his tutors hate questions. They say it means he wasn't paying enough attention, and his dad says that questioning your elders only shows disrespect. He's lucky he got away with asking one question already. So, Zuko just pretends to understand everything his mom says, and that only makes her talk more.
She says these things are normal, and not bad, but that Zuko shouldn't talk about these things with other people. Mom also says Azula is too young for this talk right now, so he shouldn't mention this to his sister. With a wrinkle of his nose, Zuko thinks that maybe his mother doesn't know Azula as well as she thinks she does. After all, Azula already seems to know everything.
Ignoring his mom's warning, he drags his sister along to the library the very next day, but she doesn't seem to be listening to him. He tells her all the new words he's learned- like penis and vagina and sex- but she doesn't even care. Azula only makes a face at the picture.
"Gross," she says, her tiny nose all scrunched up. "It looks floppy and stupid. I like our private parts way better."
Zuko doesn't agree. Their own bits are all tucked inside of them, hidden from view. He tried peeking down there in the bath, but there's nothing to really look at, and the servants helping him had acted really weird about it. They got all red and told him to never do that again. He hasn't been able to find any of the crazy things his mother told him about.
But this thing- this new thing! The older child tilts his head to the side. He thinks it looks funny, but not in a bad way. When he tells Azula this, she calls him a dum-dum before walking away, interest gone.
A stray thought makes him sit straighter, and he looks up to see his sister turning out of the aisle. "Wait! Do you think Mai would like it?" he says, raising his voice. "Lala, are you still there?"
He sighs when she doesn't answer. Zuko stays just a few more minutes, trying to decide whether or not he should show Mai, too.
Mai isn't actually his friend- Mai and Ty Lee are both Azula's friends from school- but he thinks she's nice enough. She doesn't laugh at him like Azula and Ty Lee do, and she has very shiny hair, which is kind of pretty. It also means that Mai would make a good friend. He doesn't have the same chances to make friends like his sister does, so right now all of his friends are scrolls- which isn't bad, but, well, it's not the best. His tutors come to the palace to teach him one-on-one, because Zuko's scores aren't high enough for him to attend the Royal Fire Academy for Girls.
He looks at the shelves across from him, frowning. Maybe he could tell Mai about private parts, too. Then she would think he was smart- smart enough to be her friend, and then they could talk and hold hands. Friends hold hands, right?
"In my way, as usual."
The cold voice of his father makes him jump to his feet, and Zuko stands up straight to show respect. With a small bow, he says, "I'm sorry, Dad. I was just-"
"I didn't ask," the man says, giving the scroll on the floor a frown.
Zuko's face feels hot all of a sudden, but he doesn't really know why. He hopes his dad doesn't actually see what's on the page. Would Zuko be in trouble if he saw? For looking at… adult things?
His dad leaves without saying anything else, his robes dragging against the floor and over the scroll.
As soon as his dad is out of sight, Zuko falls to the ground, carefully checking the paper for any signs of rips or tears. Seeing none, he decides that the scroll will be safer in his room. He stuffs it down his trousers, in the space where his- where the boy parts would hang, if he had any. He looks behind him, making sure his dad is really gone.
Not that Zuko is afraid, of course. It's just that his dad seems to be mad all the time now. A little mean, even. So, Zuko does his best, trying not to end up in Dad's way, even if it doesn't work most of the time. He gets a lot of nasty words and looks, but he knows his dad doesn't really mean it. Dad loves him, just like Mom does, but she says that Dad shows it differently.
Zuko just has to work harder. That's all.
Still, he feels bad for whatever it is that has his father so angry in the first place.
A year later, he thinks of the scroll again as he peeks through his cousin's room.
Lu Ten left the palace over an hour ago to finish his enlistment paperwork in the city. Now at a whole 17 years of age, he plans to join the army. He seems so eager- so excited to be serving his country. He's been spending more and more time at the recruiting headquarters lately, which is odd because he doesn't have to enlist through them since he's royalty. But he goes anyway, because it's something that makes Lu Ten happy.
Zuko wants his cousin to be happy, but he just can't imagine a life without his best friend. He's always been able to count on the teen to ruffle his hair, to chase him around the beach, to show him neat little firebending tricks... Lu Ten has always been like a big brother. Even being an entire decade older, he never treats Zuko like a baby. He always makes time for his younger cousin, no matter how small the request.
With a sigh, Zuko pulls himself back to the present. He'd rather Lu Ten be here to play with him, but if his cousin is already gone-
Wait. What does Lu Ten do when Zuko isn't around? With a frown, he wonders what kind of things a teenager keeps in their bedroom, anyway- definitely cool adult things, right? Then he remembers the scroll, and subsequently, the talk his mother gave him. She'd made it sound like boys and girls are really different from each other, but Zuko doesn't know if he believes her. After all, he and his cousin are a lot alike. Still, he wonders if boys have anything special in their rooms. Probably not, but it can't hurt to look, right?
He sneaks into the main chamber, sure to look under the bed and pull open all the drawers of the bedside table. There aren't very many things to find, because Dad says that only commoners fill their living spaces with useless junk. What little Zuko does come across looks fairly boring- a comb, a small jar of unscented oil, meditation candles, and way too many hair ties.
Unsatisfied, he inspects the adjoining bathroom. A slender knife without a handle sits on the counter, still damp with little hairs clinging to it. Zuko eyes it for a moment, wishing he could have a knife, too. He knows his destiny lies in joining the military to help his nation win the war. And despite being a bender, he knows he's not very good. Maybe learning to use a weapon would be a good idea? He briefly thinks about taking it, but this knife has been much too recently used, so Lu Ten will surely notice if it goes missing.
When he reaches the first wardrobe in the dressing room, he finds it full of clothes he's never seen Lu Ten wear. He fumbles through stacks of too-short shorts, and even shirts without sleeves. The shorts- the underpants, Zuko realises- are like his own in that they look tailored to fit tighter on the body, meant to stop halfway down the thighs. However, they all have an extra piece on them, and it's the reason he didn't realise what they are at first. A separate, darker piece of cloth falls over the crotch, hanging out from the waistband. Zuko frowns, because his undershorts don't look like that. Maybe the extra fabric hides the bulge of a boy's private parts, for modesty?
His heart gives a strange little jerk, and suddenly, he's diving through the assortment of neatly-folded underwear, looking for the smallest pair. He wants one. Just a single pair of boys' underwear.
He needs one.
Despite his age, and his stocky father, Lu Ten is lean like his mother supposedly was, and Zuko finally stumbles upon the smallest of the shorts. He glances down at his current attire, thinking his loose outer clothes will hide the extra layer of clothing just fine. In his excitement, Zuko never even questions his actions. Something in his stomach flutters, and he just acts on instinct.
Wasting no time, Zuko runs back through his cousin's chambers, sure to leave everything as he originally found it before rushing to the door. Very carefully, he pokes his head out, looking for any sign of life in the corridor while hiding the faded shorts behind his back. Content with his stretch of privacy, he races back to the dressing area, practically kicking his shoes across the room in his haste. His sash comes off next, then the collared shoulder piece. The crimson dress flies over his head, sending his hair flying, but he doesn't care. His trousers sink down his thighs with every movement now, and he finally pulls them off, revealing his own pink underwear. With trembling fingers, Zuko pulls Lu Ten's undershorts on over them.
The fit isn't terrible- a little long, but they somewhat hold up on their own. Turning to look in the floor-length mirror to the right, a gasp escapes him. Eyes wide, he steps closer to his reflection, fingers dancing across the soft fabric. Zuko thinks he looks a little strange, wearing a long-sleeve shirt without any trousers, but his breath catches in his throat all the same.
He likes this.
He really, really likes this.
A slender hand slowly travels across the burgundy garment, eventually settling over his groin. The extra fabric there is loose, sagging away from his body. He presses his palm a little harder, noticing for perhaps the first time just how flat his private parts are.
What if he's missing something down there and he doesn't even know it? All his bits are technically on the inside, right? There could totally be a missing piece, gone unnoticed. That would certainly be his luck.
He sighs. Maybe it doesn't matter. He's still young, and he doesn't plan on having children anytime soon- hopefully never, he thinks with a hint of disgust. He remembers his mother's brief explanation on how babies are made, and really, why would he let someone stick one of those boy parts down there? That's just gross.
Either way, he likes these undershorts enough to wear them. And although he doesn't know why, he figures he probably shouldn't let anyone find out about this little… whatever this adventure has been. It's not even the fact that he's stealing. It's about the underclothes themselves, but also something a little more- Zuko doesn't even know what to call it. Whatever it is, it makes him feel warm on the inside, like his inner flame burns a little brighter. It starts as a tingle, deep in his stomach, and it spirals outward to his limbs, wrapping around his torso on the way. Yet, his heart has never felt lighter. Short eyelashes dart together as his eyes shut, and he takes a deep breath.
This feels right.
A soft rustle of fabric startles him. Whirling around, he looks up at his cousin, shoulders rising with tension. Sweat pools under his arms, and he takes a step backwards without thinking, nearly bumping into the wardrobe. Heat floods his face, but it's not from an embarrassed flush.
Zuko is scared.
Casually leaning against the door frame, Lu Ten crosses his arms. An odd look flickers across his face, and it's an emotion that Zuko doesn't recognise. Nervous apologies fall from the child's mouth, and as far as Zuko can tell, the words are jumbled, and he's not actually making any sense. His heart races, and his hands ache with how hard he clenches them, and his vision blurs with the dreaded tears.
He flinches violently when a large hand cups his shoulder, despite the tenderness in the touch. There's still a bruise from when his father gripped him too hard just the other day.
Suddenly Lu Ten crouches down in front of him, tilting his head to try and meet Zuko's eyes.
"Little Cousin," he coos. "Please don't cry. I'm not upset with you. I promise."
Sniffing, Zuko looks up to see a familiar face just inches from his own. Lu Ten's olive skin wears a hesitant smile, intense golden eyes gazing into the kid's pale face. Still, the 7-year-old feels shame curling around his throat, and it only heightens his panic. "I'm sorry," he gasps, but Lu Ten uses his free hand to wipe away the tears.
"It's okay," he whispers, his tone gentle in a way that reminds them both of Ursa. "Shh, don't cry, Zuko. You have nothing to be sorry for."
"But I-" Zuko almost chokes on the words. "Yes, I do. This is wrong!"
With one corner of his mouth twitching just a little higher, Lu Ten almost smiles, but stops. He searches his cousins' eyes for a long moment, then very carefully asks, "Why do you say that?"
"Because no one told me I could," comes the watery reply. Zuko opens his mouth as if to say more, but hesitates. "No one told me I could enter your rooms without permission, or-" Another pause. "Or wear your clothes. It was a dumb idea."
Pursing his lips, Lu Ten lets his hands fall, allowing them to rest in his lap instead. "Why?" His patient voice barely climbs higher than a murmur. "Is it dumb because they're my clothes?" He pauses. "Or is it because they're boys' clothes?"
"I'm not a boy," Zuko blurts out, voice just as quiet. His sobs have ceased rather abruptly as his survival instincts take over- they need to be quiet. If Lu Ten snuck up on him so easily, then surely a servant could. He's terrified that his father will somehow find out, and he has no idea how Ozai will react to such unbecoming behaviour. Neither the crossdressing nor the crying will go unpunished, or so he imagines. Of course, no one has ever said that dressing as the opposite sex is wrong, but no one has told Zuko it's alright, either. And he can only do what he's told. He is a princess, but he is a prisoner in the palace all the same.
And he doesn't want to give Dad yet another reason to be disappointed with him. That's the last thing Zuko wants.
He doesn't know what to say, so he says, "Mom said I'm a girl." If it's a weird thing to say, his cousin doesn't show it. Still, it makes Zuko's stomach feel funny.
After an uncomfortably long minute of silence, Lu Ten speaks up. "Tell you what," he starts, rising to his feet. He goes around the small room, collecting the clothes that have been haphazardly thrown across the floor. "Why don't you keep it, okay? It's not like I'll need it. I have plenty more smallclothes to wear, and that's an older pair, anyway."
He holds out Zuko's trousers, and the child tentatively begins to dress, deciding to trust the teenager and keep the shorts on. Lu Ten watches him, and it should be weird, but it isn't. The older cousin looks without actually seeing him, his mind seemingly far off in thought. It's an expression Zuko has seen many times before on Uncle Iroh's face when in a state of inner debate, trying to decide on the best course of action.
"You won't tell anyone, right?" Zuko asks, beside himself with worry.
"What?" Lu Ten absently says. He blinks, as if coming out of a haze, and says firmly, "Spirits, no. This can just be our secret, okay?"
Zuko nods.
Lu Ten looks torn for a moment, then shifts from foot to foot. "And… And you can come back to try on my clothes whenever you want. Even when I'm gone," he says. "How does that sound?"
"Really?," the child mutters, his shyness overtaking him once more at the generous offer. With some strategic pat-downs, Zuko's usual attire hides the extra layer of clothing well.
Lu Ten smiles, hesitant but encouraging. There's something in his eyes- something he's holding back from Zuko. For once, the younger cousin doesn't press it. Instead, he nods again in understanding, much calmer now. "Thank you," Zuko says, eyes slightly red and swollen. He's a pitiful sight, and they both stand there for a pregnant pause, allowing the child to collect his thoughts and reign in his emotions.
"Little Cousin," Lu Ten finally prompts, hands rising to straighten Zuko's collar.
"Yes?"
"I'll always love you," the deep, comforting voice whispers. With a final tug at the stiff material, Lu Ten's hands lightly hold Zuko's round face, as though handling precious porcelain. "No matter what. You know that, right?"
In a tiny voice, Zuko repeats, "Really?" He fiddles with the hem of his dress, too scared to look up in case the answer isn't what he needs to hear.
But then Lu Ten runs one of those hands through Zuko's hair. He grins, eyes shining, and he looks as genuine as ever while he combs the thick strands loose from Zuko's crooked up-do. All the tension is gone from his posture, and his answer comes easily.
"Really," he solemnly swears.
When Lu Ten leaves a few weeks later for basic training, Zuko feels as though a part of him is gone, too. He's lonely, and he doesn't know what to do with himself most of the time.
Azula's been snapping at him more than usual, making hurtful little comments about his firebending, so he's been trying to steer clear of her for now. Unfortunately, that also means he hasn't seen Mai or Ty Lee for a while, either.
The next time he sees Azula's friends, Zuko is in the gardens, trying to toss pebbles through a gap between two tree branches. He startles a little when Ty Lee shouts in greeting.
"Hi, Zuko!" Ty Lee says, cheerful as ever. "Have you seen Azula?"
"Oh," Zuko mumbles, expression falling a little. Of course they didn't come to see him. They're only here for his sister.
But as soon as his eyes pass over Mai, the disappointment turns to embarrassment, and he has to look away. He can't exactly look disappointed, like he was hoping for some company. That would be pathetic, right? Zuko is a princess, and he needs to act like one.
Trying to appear casual, he sends another rock spiraling through the air. It missed its mark completely, hits the tree trunk, and makes a very noticeable scraping sound before falling to the grass.
"What did that tree ever do to you?" Mai asks, sounding bored.
A flush rises to his cheeks, and he doesn't want to turn around. He doesn't want her to see how nervous he is. "It's just target practice," he lies. Honestly, he's bored and doesn't want to play with his toys anymore.
They're nice toys, of course. He has a few porcelain dolls, all delicately painted and topped with long, dark hair from a dragon moose's mane. He even has an odd, metal spiral- one with lots of colourful coils that used to be able to slink and bounce down stairs. Until, of course, Azula burned and disfigured one of the coils so badly that it can't move with its own momentum anymore.
Here he is, forced to play with rocks like some wild child. Except it's actually kind of fun, and he's kind of good at it, too-
"You're not very good, are you?" Ty Lee says, which makes him frown.
Before he can argue, Mai is stepping towards him, a small hand wrapping around his wrist. "Your wrist is all wrong," she says. He blinks, a little stunned by the sight of her face so close to his. He tries really, really hard not to breathe on her, because that would probably be weird, right? He doesn't know, because only his Mom and Lu Ten ever bring their faces this close to his. Azula used to, but he doesn't remember the last time she did.
Mai tries to move his hand in a certain way, but it just flops back and forth like a dead fish. Zuko's brain is too warm and fuzzy to catch on. Is he sick? Maybe he's sick. Firebenders naturally run warm, but he feels very, very warm all of a sudden. And then he turns ice-cold, because Mai drops his hand quickly as if burned, right as Azula's voice sounds off behind them.
"What, already trying to replace me so soon?" Zuko turned around, one hand glued to the wrist Mai touched in reverence. "The prototype is full of faults, I'm afraid."
"Pro- what did you just call me?" Zuko fumes. He doesn't know what that word means, but he definitely knows he's being made fun of.
"She means you were born first," Ty Lee chimes in. "When people make things, the first try never comes out quite right." Eyes wide, as if realising what she's just implied, she claps a hand over her mouth. "Oops! Sorry, Zuko, I swear I didn't mean-"
Mai cuts off the muffled apology. "It's so hot outside," she complains. "Are we just going to stand here all day?"
Zuko looks to Ty Lee, whose big eyes are still trained on him in regret. He sees Mai, whose eyes flicker uncomfortably to stare at her feet. And he knows without even looking that Azula is watching him very carefully. "Care to join us, Zuzu?" she says, a hidden quality to her voice that he just can't identify.
"Don't call me that," he huffs, crossing his arms. "It's such a baby name."
"It's fitting, if you're going to act like one," she says, her calm expression heating up just a little. "Play by yourself. See if I care!"
"Fine!" Zuko snaps, but he's not really sure why either of them are angry. An awkward moment passes before Azula turns to leave, Mai and Ty Lee hesitating for a fraction of a second before quickly falling into step behind the younger princess. He waits until he's sure they're gone before dropping his crossed arms.
Zuko and Azula aren't close anymore, and he doesn't like it.
He doesn't like the way she talks down to him, or the way her friends look at him with pity. He doesn't like how lonely it's been without his cousin or sister's company. He doesn't like how Dad's been spending more time with Azula lately.
But it's fine.
He's fine.
Zuko is absolutely, totally, just fine.
When Uncle Iroh first sends word from the frontline, presents arrive as well. Two dolls- one for Zuko, and one for Azula. Neither child can quite hide their disappointment.
Zuko supposes his doll might be pretty enough, but it simply doesn't do anything for him. It's not the fact that he doesn't play with toys anymore, or even the doll's obvious Earth Kingdom ethnicity. The thought of playing with it just doesn't interest him. He appreciates the thought of a gift, though, so he quickly pretends to like it. After all, that's what nice kids do. It's only proper.
Azula, however, holds no misgivings about showing her displeasure. When she sets her doll on fire, Mother sends him away so she and Azula can talk. He gladly runs, eager to get away from his crazy sister, and what he knows will be a very stern conversation. And before he knows it, he's back in Lu Ten's bathroom, the shiny blade in his right hand. Looking down at the doll, he thinks it would look better without the dress. Because how can girls even fight in dresses? It's simply not practical.
He doesn't even think- not until much later, anyway- about how well Azula, Mai, and Ty Lee can all fight and play in dresses. He doesn't even think about his own closet, filled with flowing, feminine clothing that doesn't hinder movement in the slightest. No, he only sees the doll's dress, and it almost seems to mock him. He doesn't know why, but it does, and it makes him so angry-
With great care, he saws through the fabric enough to reveal the second layer of clothing beneath- a loose pair of trousers. Somewhat pleased, the 8-year-old eyes his work. It looks much better indeed, with a proper tunic now. And then he frowns and thinks, well, since he's already got the knife in his hand, he might as well-
His mother is not happy with him. She demands to know why he mutilated the doll, and Zuko argues that he was only trying to cut its hair. He really didn't mean to cut off half the doll's face. Or singe the remaining hair. His hand had slipped, both times. Honest.
Later that evening, around the dinner table, Mother goes off on a short tangent about her deranged daughters, more fondly exasperated than actually upset. Azula smiles, pretending to be the good little girl she is not. Zuko also smiles, his mouth wavering as he, too, tries to be something he is not.
"They were such beautiful dolls," Ursa laments.
When Ozai learns the specifics of how each doll had been destroyed, he says, "Only the best of firebenders know to find true beauty in the most dangerous of flames. Well done, Azula."
She preens.
"Speaking of firebending," Ozai continues, voice hardening with reproach.
When the sharp gaze turns to Zuko, the child can feel his stomach fall to the floor, his appetite long gone. "Master Kunyo tells me you're unable to produce fire whips yet."
Zuko bows his head a little, knowing that he barely has the control needed to keep a continuous stream of fire locked onto a target. He certainly doesn't have the precision needed to focus his stream into a whip, let alone move it with such fluid motions yet. These are excuses, though, and his father does not like excuses. He listens uncomfortably as his father goes on to bring up exactly how far behind Azula he is, despite being a year older than her.
"She was born lucky," Ozai states. "You were lucky to be born."
And it feels like rocks have fallen into his stomach, cold and hard where only flame should sit. Eyes wide and wet, mouth still hanging open in horror, Zuko feels the hairs on the back of his neck rise as Azula laughs. He looks to his mother, and the worst part is, she says nothing. She purses her lips, sad eyes turned on him, but she does not speak out against Ozai's words. She must agree.
Everyone thinks he's a failure. That's why Dad doesn't spend time with him. That's why he and Azula are fighting more often. That's why nobody likes him.
Zuko is the problem.
The next time Zuko trains, he trains with his father's reproach in mind. His body aches, cold sweat racing down his back as he slips up again and again. Ozai had sent Master Kunyo to the colonies after Azula's complaints of him being inadequate. Their new instructor is much more to his sister's and father's liking. Master Yusu doles out slaps to the wrist and kicks to his shins in punishment. Master Yusu, Father says, will keep Zuko on his toes.
The child nearly passes out several times from thirst and exertion, but he doesn't give up. It takes him weeks, but he finally manages to make a fire whip consistently on each try. His father watches his lessons one day, and when Zuko turns to look at him, their gazes meet.
Something shifts in his dad's expression, just for a moment, but Zuko isn't able to figure it out before Ozai finally turns and walks away.
It's Mom who praises Zuko's hard work, and sneaks him an extra hug after dinner. It's his lady's maid, Giya, who helps him celebrate by preparing a hot bath to soak his sore muscles in, topped off with a new, sweet-smelling soap. Father doesn't so much as say a word to him. Is he proud? Disappointed? Something else?
Zuko then realises he shouldn't have expected anything else.
He has fleeting memories of a gentle hand on his head, as they stand in the sand. He remembers a deep voice, low and calming, as he falls asleep. The scratch of facial hair against his cheek.
These are things he knows have happened, years and years ago, back when he was too little to make any lasting memories. He doesn't know where or when they happened. He only knows that these moments are of his father, the man who holds so much of Zuko's admiration and respect and love.
It makes him kind of sad, to think that maybe his dad doesn't remember the good times they've had, but Zuko will keep trying. One day, Dad will be proud of him. Zuko just has to earn it.
He just needs to try harder.
"That's what I love about you," Ursa tells him one night as she tucks him into bed. "That you never give up. You're a fighter."
He hugs his mother, hard, because she always knows exactly what to say. He's a fighter. He's not a prodigy like his sister- nothing comes easy to him. Zuko must work for what he wants, he must fight for it, and that's exactly what he'll do. He can't give up.
The hug quickly turns sour when Zuko turns his head, sending wet strands of loose hair slapping against the side of Ursa's face. She gasps, and when Zuko realises what's happened, he apologises profusely. But his mother and father are very different people. His mother simply laughs, telling him not to worry. She says his hair is too tangled from his bath, anyway. She disappears for a moment, then returns from his bathroom with a comb in one hand.
"Come here," she says. As soon as she seats herself on the edge of the bed, he turns his back to her, sitting between her legs. The double rows of teeth glide through his thick, wet hair smoothly, and she knows just how to get all the knots out without hurting him.
"You have such lovely hair," she whispers. "You're so beautiful, Zuko. Do you know that?"
Zuko doesn't feel beautiful, but he doesn't exactly feel ugly, either. So, he shrugs. "I guess."
His mother clucks her tongue. "I wish you could see yourself how I see you," she sighs. "You and your sister are absolutely beautiful. Azula knows, obviously." They both share a quick laugh, because it's clear that his younger sibling has no qualms with confidence, in any area whatsoever. When their chuckles die down, Ursa pauses in her ministrations, gently sweeping the straight locks to one side of his head without bothering to put it up in its elaborate bun.
"Soon, you're going to be such a stunning young woman, Zuko," she says. And he doesn't know why, but the thought unsettles him. It doesn't quite sound right- doesn't fit somehow. He's never pictured himself in such a way, and he doesn't know that he wants to. He loves his mother, but knowing that he'll likely resemble her so much more as he gets older… it makes his stomach ache, almost.
And his mother is gorgeous. He thinks so, and everybody else certainly says so. Shouldn't he want to look just like her?
"Right now, you two are my perfect little girls. But I can't wait to see you both grow up," Ursa murmurs. "It seems like you're getting taller and taller these days. Where has the time gone?"
She hugs him again, and he hesitantly returns the embrace.
"Is everything alright? Ursa asks, noticing how the light in her child's eyes has changed as she pulls away.
"Just tired," Zuko says, weakly.
Would his mother still love him, even if he wasn't beautiful? He... doesn't want to know, so he doesn't ask.
She kisses him goodnight, and leaves him in darkness. Zuko decides then and there that he likes the dark, because beauty matters very little when it can't be seen.
He doesn't know a whole lot about beauty anyway. Not until he sees Mai in the courtyard one day.
He's walking with his mother through a breezeway, on their way back from her favourite tea room, when he nearly stumbles. Sitting under a tree, Mai is slightly hunched forward, fiddling with something in her hands. But the way her sleek hair falls just above her eyes, so focused and intelligent compared to whatever dumb cartwheeling game Azula and Ty Lee are playing... The thought enters his mind before he can even really process it.
She's beautiful.
Seconds later, Azula comes running over to request his presence, whining about how they need another player for some stupid game. And even then, their mother doesn't seem to notice how much Zuko hates that idea.
"I don't want to play with you!" the 9-year-old declares, leaning into the courtyard to frown down at Azula, who stands just an inch shorter than him. Their newfound height difference is more than enough for him to try and impose his will on his younger sister; the keyword, of course, is try, because Azula bends for no one.
"We're sisters. It's important for us to spend time together," she bemoans, and Zuko just knows she's lying. Yet, his fate is sealed when she sends their mother an innocent smile. "Don't you think so, Mom?"
"Yes, darling, I think it's a good idea to play with your sister," Mom tells him, gently squeezing his shoulder in encouragement. "Go on now. Just for a little while." She starts to walk away, and Zuko glares at his sister, but Azula doesn't even see it. The younger girl is already directing her friends on where to stand- Mai in front of the fountain, and Ty Lee off to Azula's side. Zuko stomps over to Mai, the person he decides he dislikes the least. With a sigh, Azula calls him over to stand next to her, which he definitely grumbles about, but he follows her instruction with crossed arms.
Running forward, Azula places an apple on Mai's head. Where did she get an apple from, anyway?
"Here's how it goes," she says. His sister returns to him and Ty Lee, smirking. "Now what you do is, try to knock the apple off the other person's head, like this." Then she sends a small jet of fire straight for Mai.
The apple doesn't even fall off her head. It catches on fire, and Zuko's heart is pounding at the look of utter shock on Mai's pale face.
He doesn't even think. He just sees how scared Mai is, and he knows he has to do something. Before he can think it through, he throws himself at Mai. She cries out as he tackles her into the fountain, and he ends up falling on top of her with a splash.
At the sound of exploding laughter, Zuko feels his face burn. He's suddenly hyperaware of every single place his body is making contact with Mai's, and he scrambles off of her in a panic. He catches a glimpse of her own embarrassment, though she's more visibly annoyed than genuinely upset like he is.
"See, I told you it would work!"
"Your sister is soaked!"
Cold and wet and flustered, Zuko can't be here for a moment longer. He just wants to melt into a puddle and disappear- maybe forever. He stomps out of the courtyard, and towards his mother, who reappears in a hurry.
"I was just coming to get you!" she beams. "Uncle Iroh sent us a package from the- you're- you're drenched." She falters, confused.
He doesn't even think- he just blurts out the first thing on his mind.
"Girls are crazy!" he half-shouts, flinging his hands in the air out of frustration. But before his mother can reply, he turns the corner and breaks into a run, eager to scrub the humiliation from his skin.
After a quick bath and a change of clothes, he's presentable once more. He finds Mom and Azula right where he expects them to be, his mother cradling a decent-sized package in her arms.
"You do realise you are one, right?" Azula whispers to him, a smirk on her face as Mom tears into the box of fire bamboo.
Zuko frowns. "What?"
"A girl, dummy," his sister snarks back, a knowing look in her eye.
He swallows hard, looking away as if to ignore her. Honestly, though, he just doesn't know how to reply to that comment.
When Mom reads the letter from Uncle Iroh, it becomes clear that she's bent the truth a bit in order to spare Uncle's feelings. The old general congratulates Azula on the wonderful progress she's made with firebending, and he thoughtfully includes another doll to replace the one she accidentally burned.
Something wrapped in canvas sits underneath the doll, with a folded scrap of yellowing paper wedged between the two items.
"Oh, it's a letter from your cousin!" Ursa exclaims, scanning the ragged strip of paper. The letter from Lu Ten expresses how much he misses everyone, and how he hopes to see them all again very soon. At the end, he mentions in passing that since Zuko seems to enjoy playing with his shaving razor so much, his little cousin should have a knife to call his own. Iroh gave it to him, but he thinks his little cousin could find a much better use for it.
And so Zuko receives his first blade. Ursa looks wary at first, telling him in no uncertain terms that he should not be playing with knives. She says they're dangerous and should be handled with care.
"But Mai has knives," he points out, alarm shooting through his stomach at the thought of not being able to keep the dagger.
"That's different. She has a master to teach her," his mother reminds him, the knife still pointedly wrapped in canvas at the bottom of the package.
Maybe Mai could teach him! He almost perks up at that idea, before quickly shooting it down in his head. Because how in the world is he supposed to look her in the eye so soon after that embarrassing incident earlier in the day?
"She's a nonbender, so she needs to be able to defend herself," Mom adds, unwrapping the dagger.
He visibly deflates, the implication obvious. Zuko is a bender, and if he was better, he wouldn't even need to learn how to use a knife. He's always falling behind in his training. He just can't sit still long enough to really pay attention- he can't ever seem to focus, especially not when he's too busy comparing himself to Azula.
Father is right. The problem is that Zuko just isn't very smart.
Maybe- maybe Zuko just isn't good enough at all.
As if sensing his spiralling thoughts, Mom's expression softens as she holds out the dagger. "So," she stresses, "I'm trusting you to be careful with it, Zuko-"
He hugs her tightly before snatching it away, setting off in a run to find a good place for practice. "Thank you, thank you, thank you-!" He barely sticks around long enough to hear her read Lu Ten's story about how he got the dagger, but Zuko doesn't think it matters too much. He'll see his cousin soon enough, and then he can hear the story in person.
Back in his room, Zuko quickly slides the sheath off, admiring the glossy finished. Though the cover is worn, the blade itself was obviously very well cared for. The engraving on the pearl dagger makes his eyes light with intrigue.
It says, "Never give up without a fight."
"I won't," he tells the blade, and he hopes Lu Ten can somehow hear him.
Slash, slash. Stab!
"Ah!" Zuko shouts, falling to the ground after being dealt a devastating blow by an invisible opponent.
It's one thing to half-heartedly shuffle around some dolls, and to talk to himself out of loneliness. But this… This is what it must feel like to actually lose one's self in imagination. This, for some reason, is a role he can more easily step into. It's been entirely too long since any kind of pretend play has brought him joy.
Happiness in any form, actually, feels increasingly harder to come by these days. Whereas Zuko once looked forward to being able to master his inner flame, he now dreads his lessons. Master Yusu can send shivers down Zuko's spine with just one look. And while it's shameful for a firebender to rely on traditional weaponry for self-defence, Zuko's fascination with knives and swords only grows.
Holding the blade out in front of him, he thinks of himself as a soldier around Lu Ten's age. He sees a tall, faceless figure with broad shoulders and thick arms. The black armour trimmed in red shines across his future self's strong chest. His hair sits in a high top knot, and he stares down the enemy with brave eyes, a dagger in one hand and his helmet at his feet-
That's when it hits him. He's never actually tried to picture himself as an adult before. He's never put much thought into what he'll look like, or even what he'll be like. Swallowing hard, he comes to the conclusion that he will not look anything like Lu Ten. His voice won't boom across a military encampment in a deep timbre, like Uncle Iroh.
Once he reaches the age of majority, he will still be able to join the military. But away from the battlefield, he will paint his lips red like Mother. The cloth uniform issued to him will be smaller, fitted and cropped to show his stomach beneath the blood-stained armour. He won't grow scratchy sideburns like his cousin, or a goatee like his father, or a full beard like his uncle. No, he'll be pretty; beautiful if he looks anything like his mother. Soft skin and long lashes and a gentle voice-
Closing his eyes, the new image only partly forms in his head before fading away altogether. He tries to bring it back, to hold onto some part of it, but his mind lets it slip through every single time. He tries to convince himself he wants to see it- that he wants to grow into the gorgeous princess- the blushing bride- that his mother says he's meant to be.
Everyone may look the same when they're fighting for their country, identical helmets and matching armour to erase any trace of individuality. And yet… Eventually, he sighs, choosing not to think about the future. Right now, he is Princess Zuko in title, but maybe he can pretend to be someone else behind closed doors. So, he jumps around, grunting and growling as he shreds an imaginary Earth Kingdom soldier into ribbons like the courageous warrior he hopes to become.
Someone snickers behind him. His face reddens when he turns to see Azula in the doorway to his bedroom, leaning against one wall with a smirk. Her ability to make him feel inferior without uttering so much as a single word, though nothing new, continues to astound him. She finds sick satisfaction in hurling insults, and nearly everything out of her mouth sounds like a lie. Azula always lies, except when she knows the truth will hurt more.
The next warship back from the siege doesn't bring gifts. It brings word of Lu Ten's death.
But that doesn't make sense. Fire Nationals are supposed to be better- smarter, stronger. The Fire Nation has great wealth and prosperity, incredible education, and a pristine military. But for all his country's greatness, it didn't help Lu Ten in the end. He died like any other Earth Kingdom soldier.
Zuko doesn't know what to think about that, so he tries not to think at all for the next few days.
But then Azula appears in his bedroom one night, singing, "Dad's going to kill you!" A pause. "No, really. He is," she adds, looking almost serious.
"Stop it," he snaps. "You're lying!"
And she weaves a rather revolting tale, one he tries to ignore, but can't. She's getting louder and louder as she makes her way closer to his bed, and she's nearly in his lap by the time he looks up to see his mother standing in the doorway.
Gingerly taking his hands off of his ears, he watches as Ursa drags Azula from the room.
Azula always lies.
He... doesn't sleep very well that night.
Azula always lies. Except when she knows the truth will hurt more.
But Dad would never kill him. Dad loves him! He doesn't show it, because maybe Zuko isn't the best kid, but still. He knows that his father loves him.
And so does Mother. But what a weird dream to have, his mother in a cloak, shaking him as she speaks. "Zuko," she'd said. "Remember this. No matter how things may seem to change, never forget who you are."
His brow furrows a little. He remembers her walking to the door, the hood of her cloak pulled up around her face-
"I love you, Zuko," she'd told him. Almost like she was saying goodbye.
Eyes wide, he looks around the room. There, of course, isn't a single sign indicating that she'd actually visited him in the night, but he somehow knows. He knows it wasn't a dream.
"Mom!" he yells, running from the room.
"Mom? Mom!" he calls for her, but no one answers.
He enters room after room, all of them either empty or hosting people who aren't his mother. He disregards them and keeps going, racing through each wing of the palace. Eventually, Azula steps out from behind a pillar, and he nearly mows her down in his panic.
"Where's Mom?" he asks.
"No one knows," she shrugs. "Oh, and last night, Grandpa passed away." She twirls a knife between her fingers, and he immediately recognises it.
"Not funny, Azula! You're sick," he tells her, shoulders rising in rebuke. "And I want my knife back!" He lunges, but she sidesteps him easily.
"Who's going to make me?" she wonders, a mocking smile on her round face. She dangles the knife in front of him. "Mom?"
Face stricken with horror, he remembers his reason for initially scouring the palace. He lunges again, and this time, she lets him snatch the dagger back. He gives her one last look, still disturbed by her comments, and then he runs off.
Azula always lies.
...Right?
Dad stands in the gardens, under the tree by the turtle duck pond. He doesn't turn when Zuko comes out of the corridor, frantic and scared and angry.
"Where is she?" Zuko demands.
His dad doesn't say anything. The man just keeps his eyes on the small pond, as lively as ever with baby ducklings.
Something in the back of his mind pushes forward- he's never actually seen his dad here before. He always stayed clear of it, insisting that it meant far more to Mom than it did to him.
And now, his mom is missing, and his dad is in her favourite place-
The tears hit his cheeks before the reality of the situation finally topples over him.
With both Mother and Lu Ten gone, and Iroh consumed by his grief, no one can protect him. Between his sister's cruelty, his father's anger, and the harsh treatment from Master Yusu, Zuko can't see the difference anymore. His mind and body hurt all the same, and he can only pray to Agni for strength. But for some reason, the sun spirit never seems to be listening.
He is 10 when Azula tells him his breasts look weird, and in front of Mai and Ty Lee, nonetheless.
"Then stop looking," Zuko snaps back, fighting the urge to cross his arms over his chest. Despite the increasingly less-than-subtle hints from the servants who take turns laying out his clothes every morning, he refuses to wear any of the bandeaus in his wardrobe.
"How can I not look?" Azula complains, tossing her bangs out of her face with an exasperated movement. "They're so pointy without a band to rein them in. You're a girl, so why don't you dress like one?"
Oddly enough, her words lack their usual venom, but they still sting. Mai and Ty Lee look away, seemingly embarrassed for him. The two girls have recently started to wear bandeaus themselves, and Zuko can tell.
Not that he's been staring at their chests or anything! Because that would definitely be rude, not to mention completely improper. It's just that, well, he can tell when they're wearing a band, is all. And he certainly doesn't find himself thinking about the sight alone in his bedroom- how Mai might look in just her underclothes, all creamy skin for his eyes only- with a foreign tingle building between his legs. Because that would be so, so wrong in ways that Zuko can't quite name yet. He doesn't understand what he feels towards Mai, and how it's different from the mere acquaintanceship he shares with Ty Lee, but he knows he has to keep it to himself.
He's thought about hiding the growing tissue on his own chest, but that would basically be acknowledging his body's sudden dive into puberty, and that's something Zuko just doesn't know if he can do yet. In fact, out of their de facto quartet, only Azula has yet to develop in that area. For this, Zuko envies her more than he ever has before. He doesn't want breasts, and he certainly doesn't like that their conical appearance makes them all the more obvious. But in order to minimise their presence, he would have to start wearing a bandeau, too- a wide, linen garment that sits sleeveless from the armpits to just under the breasts. Commonly referred to as a band, it's an undergarment that only girls wear.
And the more he thinks about it, the more Zuko doesn't like being associated with girls.
There's nothing wrong with girls, of course. His mother was an incredible person. Ty Lee is nice, when she's not being annoying. Mai is actually really funny in a dry, adult kind of way, and she's always nice to him, too. Being around her makes him nauseous, but almost in a good way, if that's even possible. He tries not to think about what that could mean, either.
Azula, of course, doesn't count as a girl. She occupies a category all her own.
Girls can be soldiers and naturalists and engineers and anything, really, and that's fine. So, Zuko doesn't have a problem with girls. He starts to think maybe he just has a problem being one.
And then something clicks- something that's always been there, buried deep in the back of his mind.
Zuko isn't a girl.
What if- What if Zuko is a-
He's a boy.
Zuko is a boy.
The revelation rocks him to the core. He doesn't know what to think, and he certainly doesn't have anyone he can ask for advice on the matter. He tries to scour the palace library for answers, but it contains old scrolls and tomes from floor to ceiling, and he has no idea where to even start. He spends long nights lying awake, just agonizing over the simple words. Girl, boy, girl, boy. He wonders what would happen if someone was maybe both, or even neither. And he wonders about all sorts of crazy things, but he always comes back to boy.
Days pass. Weeks pass. Months, even.
The more he uses that word- boy- to describe himself, the more natural it feels. Girl has always felt like his white funeral wear- it fits, but just barely, and only because it has to. It's the only thing he has ever known- the only colour he's ever been allowed to wear in mourning, and the only gender role he's existed in. Boy, though, feels like his cousin's undershorts, which he still sometimes wears beneath his trousers in secret. Both the gender and the garment fit decidedly well right now, but with a little extra room to grow into. He feels most at ease wearing them, even if neither can be outwardly seen. Even if everyone knows him only as the crown princess, Zuko is a boy, and just knowing this makes him feel a little more grounded. He feels connected to the life around him now, no longer like a spirit simply floating in and out of existence. He feels… real.
He feels like a real person, as though some missing piece of himself has finally fallen into place. He feels whole.
The first time he tells someone, the confession is to someone he knows he'll never see again. It's safer that way, to test the waters with someone he can easily avoid if need be, should things go badly.
When Iroh mentions his intention to visit a few old friends, including one in Shu Jing, Zuko begs to come along, enraptured by the thought of meeting the small town's legendary swordsman. A softer man since the loss of his own child, Iroh can deny his nieces very little.
Students come from all over the Fire Nation with pleas to learn the way of the sword. These prospective disciples are usually teenage boys, bringing with them lavish words and sparkling gifts to exchange for the glory of blood-stained blades. The overwhelming majority of them are turned away. In fact, Master Piandao can recall the number of students he's taken with just one hand.
It started when Zuko left the two men with a pot of tea and a game of Pai Sho, running to the otherside of the courtyard with every intention of fighting off boredom. He practices the stance he'd seen a palace guard use with a sword once, every motion sharp and precise. Eyes narrowed, he walks himself through the same action over and over again until he feels a hand on his shoulder. Panicked, Zuko lashes out as he turns to face his attacker, only to see his uncle's friend catch the blade between bare fingertips. Zuko himself apologises profusely, but finds his stuttering stalled by the squeeze of another hand on his shoulder. And then Iroh's jaw drops when Piandao proclaims to have found his next student- the first in many years, and the first female one ever.
Zuko manages to hide his grimace underneath an honest layer of excitement.
Later that afternoon, Iroh departs, promising to pick up his niece in a few weeks when he finishes catching up with his other friends. Now alone with Piandao, the child hesitates, glancing at his new master from the corner of one eye. He knows better than to speak out, but Piandao senses his skepticism anyway.
"When you write your name, you stamp the paper with your identity," he elaborates. "You must learn to use your sword to stamp your identity on a battlefield."
The 10-year-old takes that in, standing behind a large desk. Still holding the writing brush, his hand hovers over the blank piece of paper.
"Remember, you cannot take back a stroke of the brush, or a stroke of the sword," Piandao adds. "So, show the world who you are, and stand by that identity."
Zuko pauses for a long moment. Then he quietly thinks aloud, "What if I have more than one identity?"
Brow furrowing in interest, his instructor asks him to repeat himself. Deciding to risk it, Zuko turns to face his master.
"Which identity do I use on the battlefield?" the child asks. "The one everybody wants to see, or…" He trails off.
"In battle, you only have an instant to take everything in," the man says, slow, measured steps bringing him closer to the desk. "You don't have moments to think. You must learn to act on your instincts- to trust them."
Zuko's lower lip quivers. "Master-"
"You must be able to trust yourself. Your true self," Piandao emphasises, voice firm but not unkind. "If you don't trust yourself, no one will, Princess Zuko."
The sound of splintering wood cracks through the air. Zuko startles at the broken brush, horrified as blood drips down the side of his hand and onto the paper. He jerks his arm away, only to knock over the inkstone and send black running down the desk and onto the floor, creating an even bigger mess.
"I- I didn't mean-" he stutters, unable to explain why his grip crushed the delicate wood at the mention of his title in the first place. Looking up at Piandao, who looks only puzzled instead of angry, Zuko silently gasps for air. "I'm so sorry! I- I-"
Would Piandao hit him? Would it hurt? Would he use his hand, or the flat of his blade? Zuko shakes at the idea, eyes downcast as he tries to stutter out a complete apology.
"Princess?"
The master moves toward him, trailing around the desk to peer down at him, all while ignoring the painful splinters sticking out of Zuko's fair skin. No, the man isn't asking about his hand. He knows something else is going on.
Zuko knows he's in trouble. There's no way he can't be. So, in a fit of panic, he tries to at least complete their current lesson. With one finger, he writes across the paper in his own blood.
"Prince Zuko," Piandao reads, and his tone is so flat that Zuko can't tell what the man truly thinks. A long, dreadful silence follows the statement, before the man slowly and carefully asks, "Is that what you wish to be called?"
"No!" comes the immediate reply. Zuko finally looks up at the red characters smeared across the paper, stomach churning with anxiety. "I… Maybe? I don't know," he says, trying desperately to backpedal on his confession. But at the calm, judgement-free look Piandao gives him, the child whispers, "I don't want anyone to know. Not yet."
With a small nod, Piandao asks him to step outside. Zuko tenses, but does as asked. He waits for the reprimand, the smack, the threat to tell Uncle, but none of them come.
Piandao doesn't call in his servant to help Zuko clean up- Piandao does it himself. The man clears out a few thin pieces of brush still clinging to Zuko's hand, and not a word passes between them.
Even after his hand is bandaged, Zuko isn't yelled at. Zuko isn't punished. Zuko isn't in trouble, and he can't for the life of him understand why. Instead, Piandao just leads him through more seemingly-pointless exercises, like painting a landscape, and baking a fruit tart without a recipe. Zuko waits, and he waits, but Piandao says nothing more on the matter- not until Iroh returns to retrieve Zuko seven weeks later, handcrafted broadswords strapped to the child's back.
Piandao has already said his piece to Iroh, in private, and then asks for a moment alone with his pupil. With a glance at his charge, Iroh nods genially, and moves to wait outside the gate. They have already agreed to an arrangement where Zuko must return every two months to continue his tutelage in week-long visits, and it's clear that the next trip cannot come fast enough for the child.
"Until we meet again, Prince Zuko," the swordsman breathes, so quietly Zuko almost doesn't hear it. But he does.
Those words change his life.