Zuko knelt by the riverbank, knife in hand. He stared at it for a long moment, before sighing and turning to his uncle, who sat besides him, watching him thoughtfully.
"Are you sure I have to do this?" he asked, his tone snappish and upset. Iroh nodded silently.
"We cannot risk being recognized by Fire Nation soldiers. On the off chance that you are seen in the woods, you must be unrecognizable."
Zuko frowned, returning his gaze to the knife.
They hadn't spoken about the soldier that had attacked Iroh, nor his apparent inability to see Zuko. He didn't know how to bring it up.
He didn't know if he wanted to bring it up.
It didn't make sense. He'd been right there, right in front of the man-and yet his gaze had gone right through him, as if he didn't even exist.
Zuko sighed, pushing the thought aside. It didn't matter now. The man was long gone; the incident was likely some sort of fluke.
Stil...something still felt wrong.
With one quick motion, he sliced off his topknot. He tossed his hair into the stream and watched it drift away, feeling oddly sick to his stomach. The loss of his hair was just one more thing that just felt...wrong. It had been the one consistent thing throughout his life, a symbol of status and of who he was. Even when he'd been banished, he hadn't shaved it.
And now it was gone.
It felt more significant than it really should have.
He stood, glancing at his uncle, only to see Iroh watching him curiously. "What?" Zuko snapped. Iroh shook his head, sighing slightly.
"Nothing of consequence," his uncle replied, grunting as he hauled himself to his feet.
They walked through the forest for a long while before they came upon a small town. Iroh set off into the village, leaving Zuko behind to wait in a small clearing in the forest.
He sat, leaning back against a small tree. Instantly, he winced, pain flaring through his wings.
His wings. The damned things were so clunky yet so sensitive. If he sat the wrong way, or leant against something weirdly, they would flare with pain. Agni forbid he accidentally sat on one of them one of these days.
Without thinking, he opened one of his wings, adjusting his position enough that it didn't hurt. He settled against the tree-and then he realized.
He'd moved it.
He stared at the appendage, a little bewildered. His eyes narrowed, and experimentally, he opened his other wing.
His eyes widened. For so long, he'd thought they'd just had some sort of mind of their own. They'd moved, yes-but never really in the easy, casual way of his other limbs. Until then, they'd felt alien, foreign, like they weren't really a part of him.
He felt sick to his stomach. Disgust roiled through him at the thought that he was adjusting to the presence of the unnatural appendages-yet, at the same time, he felt the strangest sense of morbid curiosity.
Slowly, he got to his feet, and cautiously lifted his wings. They unfurled easily, and slowly spread to their full extent. For a few minutes, he messed around with his wings, moving them every which way-until he heard a gasp and the sound of shattering pottery.
Instantly, he shut his wings, whirling in the direction of the noise.
There stood a young woman, hands clasped over her mouth, a broken jar of herbs lying at her feet. Zuko's eyes widened.
He took a hesitant step back, glancing behind him. He wasn't very far from the town-if she screamed, then the forest would soon be crawling with people. He couldn't risk a witchhunt, couldn't risk a mob, couldn't risk getting killed again.
He took another step back, and then-
"Wait!" she called, bounding forwards and grabbing his hands. He flinched at the touch-her hands were cold. He stepped back again, wresting his hands from hers. She let her hands drop to her sides, where she began to fiddle with her skirt.
"You're a spirit, aren't you?" she asked, glancing up to meet his golden gaze. Zuko blinked, his wings cringing to his back.
"No," he said curtly. She tilted her head curiously.
"A counterpart, then?"
Zuko froze. The other teen just beamed, flashing sharp, unnatural teeth. His eyes widened at the sight, and the girl just smiled even broader.
"You're like me, then," she chirped. His wings relaxed slightly, but he continued to stare at her defensively. She closed her mouth, but still continued to smile warmly at him. "Come on. Why don't you join my mother and I for dinner?"
Zuko froze. "I can't, I-"
"Your wings won't be an issue! We live right on the edge of town, and-"
"No," he said bluntly, his face flushing embarrassedly. "It's not that," he said sharply, trying to regain his composure, "I'm waiting for my uncle."
As if on cue, Iroh stepped out of the underbrush, carrying a bag of food. He dropped the bag at the sight of the unfamiliar girl standing before his nephew, shock blowing his eyes wide.
"Nephew-" Iroh began slowly, only to be cut off by the beaming young woman.
"It's alright, sir! I was just wondering if the two of you would like to join my family for dinner!" she said kindly. Iroh smiled back at her, bending down and picking up the bag of food.
"That would be wonderful, miss…" he trailed off, his voice piqued in a question. Zuko turned to his uncle, glaring at the old man.
"My name's Song," she said warmly, oblivious to the scowling teen behind her.
"I am Mushi," Iroh said, bowing slightly, "And this is my nephew, Li. We would be honored to join you for dinner."
Much to Zuko's dismay, the girl grinned broadly, bowing in return to his uncle. She turned to Zuko, beckoning.
"Come on-I'll lead the way."
Not even thirty minutes later, they were all seated around a table together, along with a thin older woman who'd invited them in without batting an eye. Zuko was picking at his noodles absently, finding himself weirdly not hungry. Song occasionally glanced over at him, and smiled broadly whenever she caught his gaze.
The older woman's gaze swept around the room, passing over Zuko completely. A strange feeling twisted his stomach, and he set down his chopsticks uneasily.
"Li, are you alright?" Song asked, glancing over at him again. Zuko nodded silently. The young woman turned to her mother, a glimmer of excitement in her eyes. "Mom, can you believe it! I've finally met another counterpart!"
The older woman hesitated, glancing towards Zuko again before shaking her head. "That is no counterpart."
Iroh stilled, setting down his noodles. The strange feeling twisted through his stomach again, and he glanced nervously at his uncle. The old woman's eyes narrowed slightly, focusing on the spot right next to Zuko's head.
Something was wrong.
"Tell me, what is your name, spirit?" she asked.
"Mom, he's not a spirit!" Song argued, rolling her eyes. The old woman shook her head again.
"Only spirits can remain unseen."
"What?" Zuko asked, but the woman didn't seem to hear. Iroh remained silent, even after a confused glance from Song.
"What?" the young woman repeated, looking back up at her mother.
"Counterparts, though blessed by the spirits, remain human, and can thus be seen by the eyes of any human. Spirits, on the other hand, can only be seen by counterparts and those that they deem fit to behold them," the old woman said, shifting her gaze slightly. Zuko shivered-her gaze was just a little too vacant; it almost seemed that she was looking right through him.
Because she was.
"I cannot see this Li you speak of."