Author's note :
All right. Don't hesitate to give me review, because English isn't my mother tongue, that's my first fan fiction EVER, and I would like it to be enjoyable both for me and for you. So... Any suggestion ? review. Flame ? review. Encouragement ? please review review review !

Jee shifted a little on his chair, taking a more comfortable position for what he knew would be a long journey through his memories. Which, he had to admit, he had not looked back in for quite some times. He was not a young man anymore, and he was getting close to the age where you have the biggest part of the way behind you. Not that he didn't hope he would still have some more in front of him. But going through it all in front of somebody else, well… Once he would have done it, there would be no turning back, and he would definitively have to acknowledge it, and actually deal with it, no matter what. That was something he hadn't really prepared for when he first set foot in that tavern. Really, this free rice wine bottle would be a definite good point tonight.

Jee looked up at the innkeeper, Oyone, who was patiently waiting for him to speak out. She seemed genuinely interested in his tale, though not in an overwhelming way. She was just… listening, taking her time, and that put him at ease.

" Well, you see, I was born in a simple family. I had 3 siblings, and I was the first born. There was a 5 years gap between my birth and my older sibling's, and then the others were born on the bounce. My father worked in the market place of the Capital. The rest of his family lived in the countryside, so they sent their products and we were to sell them in the city.

We had a small house right next to my uncle's in a peripheral ground of the capital. It was not a bad spot, but I got the use to snick out as often as I could to go and wander in the town. I didn't like sticking at home. In the day time, my mother was quiet, she kept her gaze on the floor. All she would do was sewing or making food, or changing a baby. I remember when I was very young, before the birth of my brothers and sister, she would sing doing her chores. I can't remember what she used to sing, I just have flashes, blurred sounds, and a good soothing feeling floats around them. It would make me happy and safe just to hear her mumble a random tune, even if it was out of key. That was what made the house feel like… home. But then she sang less often, and eventually stopped. Then she became invisible, spineless. You know, she was not really the cleverest woman ever, but she was someone loyal, someone generous, someone good and happy. And I believe that's why my father married her in the first place. But with time passing by her lack of culture was obviously going on his nerves. He often reproached her to have a bad influence on me, and later on my siblings. He wanted us to catch up higher ranks, to have better opportunities in life, and well… probably to be smarter and get further than he had the chance to. To him our mother was tearing us down. So he was tearing her down all the same. That logic of his, you know.

Everybody was coping with it. But still, there was a never ending tension growing with time, and the confused sensation that something was missing somewhere. So I just snicked out. At first no big deal really. I liked running, playing and fighting with the other kids downer on the street. And sometimes, with my buddies, we would take a ball and head southeast until we reached nearby the waterfront. We would watch the boats and seagulls and run after them, or get ourselves into minor troubles on the docks, just messing with people passing by. The kinds of thing every boy child is up to if you give him the opportunity.

The shore was all wood, stone and most of all metal, and quite foul smelling too. The waters were tainted in fact, and only added to the smell. We had heard there had a beach farther on the coast, but all we had ever seen was the metal docks, as far as we had wandered on the seaside of the capital and its roundabouts. There were hundreds of ships landing there. Some transporting coal, prisoners, sometimes food or animal from the newly acquired territories, and of course, soldiers. Many, many soldiers, coming back home or leaving. Warships were from far the most impressive. Not that the others looked plain, after all they were all made of the same metal, with the same funnel blackened by coal smoke. So there was a bit of… family resemblance. But the warships had a special shape : built high, with a large bridge, and nothing on it but a straight tower. Plus their stern had a really particular form, sharp and uplifted… when you saw one, you just knew what kind of boat it was, no matter the size, age, or damage.

I remember the first time I saw a warship. We were still very new my friends and I to rambling down the harbour. We had only peeked at it before. We run and hid ourselves behind some random boxes, left on the side, and we were all gaping at how big and high it was. The ship was huge, an angular dark stain masking the blue of the sky. Firebenders and soldiers were going back and forth, loading lots and lots of supplies below desk, and there was a faint trail of smoke still going out of a funnel. We were so busy watching that we didn't notice a firebender approach the pile of boxes we were hiding behind, so when he asked us what we were doing there, we just ran away screaming! On that day my best friend at the time, Shinzo, fell on the ground and wounded his knee quite badly : all the skin from side to side had been ripped off. Back then it was the most serious cut I had ever seen ! But we were all too scared to stop, and we ran all the way back home without even looking back once !

Although as soon as he was home, it seemed like nothing could stop Shinzo from crying and cuddling up his mother's laps. That's what you call having a good sense of priorities.

We would hang out further and further into the capital the more we grew up, although most of the time we were just wandering in the cheap neighbourhoods nearby where we all lived. My father said I should stop spending my time with my friends, that they were up to no good, and would only get me into bigger and bigger troubles until they would get bigger than I could handle. He wanted me to come and help him with his business, or train myself into studies or jobs. He kept yelling at me. He said I was a waste of his money, it had been useless spending money on my basic education, that I would never make anything of my life… He was telling me that if I wanted I could go to a real secondary school, in the wealthy areas of the city, and end up on my way to climbing the social ladder. He was slowly loosing all hopes in me. However, I had really did nothing wrong at that time. It's just that none of it appealed to me. I was young. I just enjoyed chilling out in the cool night breeze with friends rather than staying locked up all day and night long in that children filled over-heated and noisy home. Who wouldn't ? Besides, it gave me some room to practice my firebending.

My father didn't know. Neither him nor my mother had the ability. I knew my grandfather could firebend, but he lived in the country, and I didn't feel like talking about it with any of my parents. It seems like in Life, sometimes, there are things you cannot explain, nor track, analyse, or even understand in the slightest. They just are. And that's it.

That's how it was for the distance that stood between me and my parents, as well as for my ability to fire bend. That was just there, and as far as I could remember, it had always been. It only increased as days went on.

You see, at that time I kind of thought those 2 things were to balance each other. I didn't feel close to my family. Not that I really hated or despised them. I always respected and loved them in a way. But I just couldn't feel any bound to them. My parents seemed dumb to me and my siblings were still too young. Everything appeared annoying and boring with them the more I grew up. I was getting sick and tired of my house, I just wanted to get away… And I had this feeling, and when I firebent, it was as if I had it right in the palm of my hands. My own destiny, my own way. No restraints ! It seemed easy when the flames were following my hands. I could feel the heat and see the sparkles along the lines of my palms, see it live and die, recreate it… it was mine, it was something I was good at, it was an opportunity, it was who I was… Hell, it was everything. You know how you feel when you're in your early teenage years."

Jee stopped there, unable to go on as he delighted in the memory of this past feeling, as he felt like reviving it all. A light and genuine laugh forced his lips into a smile, something he was not so used to since the last months, and did he enjoy betraying the habit !

Oyone was gently smiling, a soft wrinkle above the right corner of her lips selling out her having a good time. She was resting part of her weight absentmindedly on the table, her chest pressed right against its plane surface, both her eyes and ears wide opened for more.

- Oh yes I know the feeling.

She let the last word trail off in a languid way, and her own eyes draped in this soft haze a heart soothing piece of bitter-sweet memory could bring. She day-dreamed for a few moments, while Jee quenched his talk-induced thirst with a bit more alcohol. Then she abruptly snapped out of it and exclaimed :

- So you can read ?

- Why, yes I can. Surprised, maybe ? he answered teasingly.

- Well, it's that no many common people learnt, and you don't really look like the intellectual type. No offence Jee !

- I didn't say I was an intellectual, just that I can read. Many powerful well-read people were unluckily not taught to make the difference along with all the useless things they've learned, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't !

Jee's wink was the final blow that brought Oyone's hold on herself down, and she busted out laughing loudly. Whether it was because the comment was fine, because she was getting tipsy, or just because she enjoyed Jee's company, Oyone couldn't really tell. Probably it was a mix of those 3 reasons.