Chapter 33

Akira paused outside Zuko's door, holding a Pai Sho board clumsily in one hand. It was entirely possible that Zuko wouldn't want to see him. After Akira had carried his brother to Katara the day before, the Water Tribe girl and Mai had shouted him out of the room, literally slamming the door in his face. He had been left helpless, stewing in a mixture of resentment, shame, and worry. He shouldn't have blown up at Zuko, not when Zuko's health was so precarious. But at the same time, some things had to be said…

Akira knocked. Better to take a risk than to live with regrets.

"Come in!" Zuko's voice sounded weak, but maybe that was just how sound carried through the door. Akira pushed through, concealing his nervousness with a grin.

Zuko looked terrible. He was propped up in bed, his normally pale skin chalk-like, with dark circles under his eyes. His hair was in a messy bun, and his crown rested on the bedside table. The only positive thing Akira could see was that some of the bandages around Zuko's arms were gone. Instead, thin purple and red marks stood out against his wrists. The false smile slipped off Akira's face, and the teasing words he had planned to say evaporated.

"You look like someone died," joked Zuko. But he covered his scarred forearms self-consciously, pulling down the sleeves of his robe.

Numbly, Akira took a seat by his brother's bedside, setting the portable Pai Sho board on the floor. He opened his mouth and then closed it when the words wouldn't come. What could he say?

"Akira, are you okay?" asked Zuko, his brows—well, brow—furrowing. The thought that Zuko was worried about him filled Akira with a nauseous guilt.

"Zuko, I'm sorry," said Akira in a rush. "I shouldn't have gotten so upset. I didn't think—"

"Don't apologize," said Zuko firmly. "You were right. Not about the war," he looked at Akira sternly. "But about how I treated you. I'm the one who should be sorry."

Akira swallowed. He clearly needed to improve his approach if he ever wanted Zuko to agree with him about political matters. But hearing Zuko apologize so readily brought a lump to his throat.

"You were only half-conscious when you said—when you said I was part of your family," said Akira haltingly. Why was he like this? Usually words came so easily to him, but suddenly, with Zuko looking at him expectantly, Akira felt he was stumbling in the dark.

"I wasn't sure if you meant it," he finished awkwardly.

"I meant it." Zuko stared directly at Akira. "Akira, I've only known you for a few weeks. But you fought for me during the tower raid, and everyone deserves the benefit of the doubt." He shrugged. "So I've decided to trust you."

Zuko's simple words cut through Akira. He had never met anyone who acted like this, not in his village with his mother, or at the factory, or with the Imperial Guards. Never. The thickness in his throat grew.

"And since you're part of the family now, I have something for you," continued Zuko. He leaned over to his bedside table while Akira watched anxiously. Zuko grabbed something wrapped in a handkerchief and settled back into bed.

"This was mine when I was a Prince," said Zuko. He pulled back the cloth to uncover a golden crown—smaller than the Firelord's coronet, but still distinctly royal. "I want you to have it," said Zuko.

Akira was filled with horror. All this life, he had resented the nobility, and now Zuko wanted to make him a noble?

"Zuko, I can't—" he started awkwardly.

"No, listen," Zuko said sincerely. "I drew up the papers this morning. I'm going to make you an official Prince of the Fire Nation, just like Kazuto. Everyone will know that you're my brother. That you're part of the Royal Family."

"Did you give Kazuto a crown, too?" asked Akira, stalling for time.

"Kazuto's three," said Zuko, giving his brother an odd look. "So no."

"Right," said Akira, staring at the crown. It was so far from what he wanted, and yet Zuko meant the gift earnestly. For his brother, this crown was a peace offering. A welcome home gift.

"Do you accept?" asked Zuko, eyes wide and maybe a little nervous.

What else could Akira do? All his life he had wanted a family, and here Zuko was, offering it to him. And he had to get to know Zuko better if Akira ever wanted his brother to help him change things.

"I do," said Akira.

Zuko smiled and leaned over, indicating to Akira to bow his head so Zuko could reach his topknot. Staring at the red quilt on Zuko's bed, Akira felt the Firelord place the crown on his head.

"Then I name you Prince Akira," said Zuko triumphantly. Akira raised his head, and Zuko adjusted the crown slightly in Akira's hair.

"Our family's getting larger by the day," joked Akira. "First Kaz, now me. Is there anyone else I don't know about?"

Zuko laughed oddly and shook his head. "Not unless Azula's coming out of the woodwork."

"So it wasn't a pregnancy-induced wedding, then," teased Akira. "I wondered…"

Zuko glared at his brother. "I would never—" he began loftily.

"Oh please," said Akira, rolling his eyes. He remembered the Pai Sho board and picked it up, settling it gently on Zuko's lap. "Someone told me you played Pai Sho," said Akira.

"Since you're crippled and can't go dancing with me again, I thought we could play this."

"I'm not crippled," protested Zuko. "I'd like to see you do five Agni Kai and then go dancing the next week." He smiled. "But I do like Pai Sho."

"I'm not a bender, so I can't participate in an Agni Kai," Akira reminded his brother. Just another unequal part of their society. He unfolded the board but then hesitated when he pulled out the bag of tiles. "I don't actually know how to play," he confessed.

"Really? I thought everyone played Pai Sho," said Zuko, surprised. He took the bag out of Akira's hands and poured the tiles out on the board. Akira noticed there was a little more color in his brother's cheeks; he looked less corpse-like.

"I grew up poor," said Akira bluntly. "Pai Sho is a game for those with leisure time. I never had that."

"Right. Sorry," said Zuko guiltily. He spread out the tiles on the board. They all seemed to be different kinds of flowers, but Akira only recognized the Jasmine and Lotus tiles.

"So this game is all about harmony and disharmony," said Zuko, focusing on the tiles. Some of his hair fell out from his bun, and Zuko brushed it back absently. "Some tiles have a natural harmony with each other, and some tiles have a natural disharmony. For example, Lily has an affinity with Jasmine and White Jade, but has a disharmony with Chrysanthemum."

"So some things are just fated to be opposed?" asked Akira. What a fatalistic game.

"Why shouldn't Lily get along with Chrysanthemum?" he said stubbornly.

"I don't know," shrugged Zuko. "Those are just the rules."

"If you apply these rules to people, it's really problematic," said Akira. He picked up the Chrysanthemum tile and looked at it closer. It was red and looked almost like a sunburst.

"That would be troubling," agreed Zuko. He seemed to understand what Akira was getting at, because he looked up from the board to meet his brother's eyes. "People don't have to be enemies," he said quietly. "We get to choose."

Akira could only pray that that was true.

"Okay, okay," Akira said, trying to lighten the mood. "I brought the game, I'll learn how to play. So the Lily hates Chrysanthemum?"

Zuko sighed. "They have a disharmony," he said, turning back to the tiles. "Now, the object of the game is to encircle the center…"

Akira nodded, pushing any guilt or uncertainty to the back of his mind. But the crown rested heavily on his head, making his new status impossible to forget.