Chapter Three
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"You have to tell him!"
"Are you kidding, Katara!? You're the one who broke him out of the iceberg, you're the one who brought him home, and you're the one who took him to the frightening Fire Nation ship and set off the alarm that brought Zuko to the South Pole in the first place!" Sokka threw his hands in the air at the conclusion of his rant, face red and eyes flashing with stress. That was precisely when he noticed Aang shooting an odd look at them from atop Appa's head.
"What are you guys whispering about?" he asked, his usual smile slopped across his face.
Sokka's heart clenched. "Er… um-" It should have been easy. Just a couple sentences. You know the angry jerk with the ponytail? Yeah, you kinda accidently might have killed him. In a manner that was probably scary and more than a little painful. Except he couldn't bring himself to say the words. He'd already figured out that Aang was the type to cry over stepping on a bug. Heck, he couldn't even eat already dead meat. If he were to learn he'd killed a teenage boy, he would lose it.
…especially given that several days had passed already since he'd done it.
Aang had been so thrilled after they escaped the South Pole that neither Sokka nor Katara had been able to say anything. Then he started talking about going to the Southern Air Temple, and they'd hardly wanted to broach any subject that might upset him, given that both he and Katara knew very well that the kid was going to learn his entire people had been brutally massacred. Now the Air Temple business had finally concluded, and Aang was just starting to smile again.
Sokka didn't find it all that appealing of a prospect to break his heart for the second time in only a few days.
"Sokka?" pressed Aang, starting to look worried.
Sokka snuck a glance at Katara, who adamantly refused to meet his gaze. Of course.
"We were… talking about food," blurted Sokka, cringing as he spoke. So maybe there was a chance Aang wouldn't ever find out what'd happened—that would be best, probably. But if he did, and he realized how long Sokka and Katara had kept it from him, there would be problems.
He really needed to say something. Katara obviously wasn't going to.
"Why are you whispering then?"
Damn. That kid was good.
"I…" He thought of something and latched desperately onto the idea. "It involves an embarrassing allergic reaction Katara gets when she eats seal blubber jerky!"
"What!?"
Sokka ignored his sister.
"Yeah. She wanted some of mine, and I had to remind her of what happened the last time she tried it. Welts everywhere, and this awful rash, right on her-"
"I get it! I get it!" Aang blurted. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry I asked."
He practically flew back up to Appa's head.
"Sokka! Now I can't eat jerky in front of him," Katara hissed.
"More for me," he said dismissively. He glanced at Aang. "That isn't the problem. We need to tell him what happened."
"B-but the air temple, and learning Monk Gyatso was killed, and all that other Avatar stuff—that's already taken a lot out of him," Katara protested. "Do we need to give him anything else to worry about? If we don't say anything, he'll probably never know!"
"Katara…"
"It'll hurt him," she protested. "Besides, Zuko was hardly innocent. Did you see how he'd treated Gran Gran? He deserved it."
Sokka opened his mouth to tell her that the Fire Nation prince could have done a lot worse, but shut it after a moment. His sister already knew that—she'd seen the real Fire Nation raid when they were younger, knew very well what it looked like when firebenders wanted to do damage. Zuko hadn't been trying to hurt them; he'd just wanted Aang. While Sokka really couldn't guess as to why the nation's prince, of all people, was getting his hands dirty on a personal search for the Avatar, the fact that Zuko had apparently been willing to die trying to capture him was upsetting. Not just because a soldier near his age had been killed, but because he'd seemed to have a lot riding on his mission. No one—not even a Fire Nation prince—would risk that much out of spite. Zuko had been fighting for something that'd mattered to him.
Exactly like every other warrior involved in the war.
Katara probably could guess some of that. Whether she was going to acknowledge it was a different story, and if she wasn't willing to look at the issue from both perspectives, Sokka wasn't about to try making her.
Just like he wouldn't make Aang face what he'd done. Some things were easier left alone, and even though it chafed at him to ignore Zuko's death—especially given that he didn't agree at all with Katara's claim that Aang wouldn't find out about it eventually—he let the matter go. They had more important things to worry about.
Or so he told himself.
…
Very few things made Lieutenant Jee nervous, but the sight of General Iroh boarding the ship with his unconscious nephew slung over his shoulder absolutely terrified him.
Jee had been one of the few members of the crew who had not sold Zuko out to Zhao's men. Not because he respected the prince himself, but because he respected the boy's uncle. A part of him had also cringed away from the idea of selling out his leader. No matter how annoying the royal brat might be and no matter how unsettled Jee had been by the boy's adventure into the polar waters, Jee had too much honor to damage the reputation of one of his superiors.
Most of the crew held no such reservations. It hadn't even been an interrogation, really—if Zhao's men had not asked questions, he suspected the crew would have cornered them and started gossiping the first chance they had.
And now… now Zuko was hurt, and they were all going to pay.
"General Iroh," Jee said as the man passed him. He swallowed. "Is Prince Zuko…"
"My nephew is merely a little tired," said Iroh, keeping his features uncharacteristically blank. If anything, that was worse than if the general had stomped onto the ship, screaming for blood; at least then Jee would have known what to expect. As it was, Iroh wasn't giving anything away. "I am going to take him to his quarters, but in the meantime, order the crew to begin heading north. Oh? And, after the ship has set sail, would you tell everyone to gather in the mess hall? I would like to have a word with them."
Even having expected it, Jee flinched at Iroh's last order. He was pretty sure he knew what the general wanted to talk about, and it wouldn't be a calm discussion over cups of tea. For a moment he hesitated, wondering if there was something he could say to diffuse the situation, but the presence of Zuko's unconscious body destroyed the legitimacy of anything he could have said.
With a deep breath and a nervous swallow, Jee moved to follow the general's orders.
…
Zuko woke with a pounding head and aching muscles. He felt as though his entire body had been run over by a tank train, and his limbs were cold and aching from what he recognized as chi deficiency. He'd depleted his inner fire almost entirely, and he could feel it to his very bones.
It was only a moment later that the memories came back and he recalled precisely how that had happened.
Horrified, Zuko jolted up in bed, only to flinch when he noticed Uncle sitting next to him, eyes resting on his face with some amount of concern. Zuko reddened after realizing his ridiculous reaction had been witnessed, but his embarrassment was quickly forgotten as his focus returned to the Agni Kai.
Or, more specifically, to his bending.
He raised a hand and made to summon a small fire, but-
"Don't even try to bend now, Prince Zuko," said Uncle. "You used a great deal of power to end the Agni Kai, and you need to let your inner fire replenish itself. Overextending so soon after could cause permanent damage."
Zuko had half a mind to ignore his Uncle's advice, but he knew the old man was right. His bending was already screwed up; he didn't need to make things worse.
"My bending," said Zuko instead, even as he lowered his hand, "has already been permanently damaged."
A comforting hand rested on his leg, and Zuko could not find the energy to shove it away. He was still so tired.
"Damaged is not the right word," Uncle said. "Your bending is different, but that does not mean it is worse. With it, you defeated Zhao and healed yourself. Is that not something?"
Zuko balked. He'd been vaguely aware that he must've healed himself, but it was different to hear Uncle speak the words so plainly. Up until that moment, it had almost felt like what he'd done had only been a product of his imagination. It was so impossible, so… so wrong. He couldn't have actually done it.
Or so his subconscious had tried to convince him.
"I really had bended like that, then," whispered Zuko. He swallowed. "I'd been hoping it was a dream."
Iroh eyed him with disproval. "You saved your own life. Do no sound disappointed."
"No, that's not…" He swallowed. "I… I healed myself. Firebenders don't heal. And did you see what my fire looked like? It wasn't normal. I'm not normal."
Uncle shook his head. "Are you a firebender, Prince Zuko?"
"I-" A glare silenced his protests, and sulkily, he muttered, "Yes."
A smile crossed Uncle's face. "And you can heal. So obviously some firebenders do heal. Just not all of them." He paused, pursing his lips as he thought, then added, "Think of it as a special talent of yours."
Special talent?
More like an embarrassing weakness.
"My father would not consider it a special talent."
Iroh took a deep breath before saying slowly, "No. He likely would not. But… but perhaps he would come to accept it, if you could hone the skill. In any case, your father is not here at the moment, and think of how useful such a thing would be! Injuries are so very common at sea, and if we are going to be chasing the Avatar, it will be wonderful to have someone around who can patch up any wounds the crew sustains while doing so."
There were so many things wrong with that statement that Zuko wasn't even sure where to start. He spluttered for a moment, trying to get his tired brain to work, before finally settling on the most obvious issue.
"You don't even know if the healing is permanent! It… it might be a phase. Or maybe a fluke. And why do you think I can do it at will? I was half dead when it started working before!"
"The fire you were trying to attack Zhao with looked exactly the same as that which healed you," said Uncle softly. "Which is why I assume you can do it at will. However, you are right to say I do not know if it is permanent. I really know nothing about it at all. We will have to experiment, I suppose." Zuko opened his mouth to protest, but Iroh cut him off by saying, "Not just with healing, of course. There is the very legitimate possibility that your new bending is not solely restorative—perhaps, if we work out some unique forms, it can be adapted for battle as well."
Zuko couldn't argue with that. While he could recall all too well how useless that colorful fire had felt coming off his fingers during the first part of the Agni Kai, he knew he had to at least attempt to work with it; if he couldn't figure out how to regain some degree of offensive bending soon, capturing the Avatar would grow that much harder… And that would be the least of his worries, because he was also sure his father would never accept him as he was.
"So I'll experiment," Zuko acquiesced. "Maybe I'll learn how to heal." He curled a lip. "That doesn't mean I'd be willing to use it to help the crew."
"Prince Zuko…"
"They betrayed me!" Zuko's head spun, and he took a deep breath. Right. He was too weak to get so worked up. He paused a moment to get his bearings back, then went on, "This entire mess is their fault. They refuse to respect me, never listen to me… they hate me. And now they're afraid of me, because they think I should be dead."
"I am going to talk with the crew about their behavior; I am sure they will treat you better in the future. It will be up to you to forgive them for the past."
Zuko gritted his teeth. "I do not want them to pretend to like me because they're afraid of you."
Iroh smiled dottily, and Zuko had to resist the urge to slap himself on the forehead. Even knowing better, sometimes he struggled to reconcile his uncle's bumbling old man persona with the fierce general that still showed through at times. It was annoying. He never knew which, if either, were real, and often he found himself thinking that maybe Iroh actually was as senile as he sometimes acted.
Especially when he started grinning like an idiot in the middle of serious conversations.
"That, my nephew, is actually what I have been wishing to talk with you about," he said happily. "You see, I was not intending to threaten the crew at all. I plan to make a promise on your behalf."
"What?" Zuko blurted. "No. I don't even have to listen to it. I know it'll be ridiculous."
And he did know. His uncle had pushed him into similar conversations a dozen times before, always talking about how much good it would do for him to get to know his crew, for him to be nicer to them, to treat them better. Yelling less was one of Iroh's favorite suggestions.
But those things were unreasonable. Uncle could get away with his friendly behavior because he was well-respected. Zuko wasn't. If he gave those men any leeway at all, they would take advantage of him. He'd heard rumors of possible mutiny on and off over the last three years, and while nothing had ever actually come up, the threat of his crew turning on him was very real. He couldn't loosen his grip at all—not unless he wanted superficial talk of mutiny to turn into in-depth preparation for revolt.
"Zuko… if you wish for your men to respect you, should you not respect them also?"
He snorted. That was another one of Uncle's favorite lines.
"Why should I respect them?" he demanded. "They're a bunch of lowlifes and thugs. I've seen their reports. They're here because they were kicked off their original ships, oftentimes for ineptitude or crime. Drunks, ruffians, and fools. They don't deserve my respect."
Iroh sighed. "Those reports do not always tell the whole story. Yes, a couple of your men are slightly… disreputable. But the majority are good men who had been forced to make tough decisions. Think of it this way, Prince Zuko: if a person were to hear of your banishment without knowing the details, what would they think?"
Zuko bristled. "They would think that I were a dishonorable coward who could not keep his mouth shut and had too little respect to-"
"Yes," he interrupted. "That is what they would think. But it would not be true. It is the same with your men. Look at Lieutenant Jee; his military career was dramatically stunted after he got into a fight with a superior officer while defending my name after Ba Sing Se. The report said his punishment had been due to violence towards a commanding officer… What do you think, Prince Zuko?"
He'd heard somewhere that Jee had served under his uncle before his retirement, but he hadn't known the lieutenant had damaged his reputation defending him.
Zuko shook his head.
"That's one person."
"I could give you stories for many more. I ask not that you befriend them all, but please… treat them as people, and not pawns to be ordered about. It would bolster their opinion of you so very much."
"Uncle…"
"In turn," he went on, "I will secure from them promises to treat you with more courtesy. It will have nothing at all to do with me; I'm sure that they will cease to uphold their end of the bargain the moment you cease to uphold yours."
Zuko exhaled and leaned his head back on his pillow. He had a feeling his uncle would not let this go, and he was too tired to argue. "Fine. But as soon as one of them breaks the deal, I will as well. Now go… drink tea, or something. I want to go back to sleep"
"Just a moment, Zuko. There is one other thing I must discuss with you."
Of course there was.
"What?"
"I wish to tell the crew of your bending." Zuko started to shake his head, but Iroh kept going. "I was serious when I said I thought your healing would be beneficial to the others on this ship. While you may be too upset with them to consider the possibility at the moment, perhaps it is something that could be looked at in the future… Also, it would be rather difficult to hide. Unless you wish to start training only in secret—and that would only lead to rumors much worse than the truth—it would be best to simply get it out now. I will ensure they keep quiet about it."
"I don't want them to know," Zuko protested, trying to ignore the fact that Uncle had a point. He needed to work with his bending, and unless he was willing to take extreme measures to prevent his crew from watching him do so (and his uncle was right about the rumors that would spread in light of that), they would realize something was wrong almost immediately.
"But you know as well as anyone that what we want rarely means anything."
He sighed. "I know." A pause, and then: "Fine. Tell them. With my luck, it would get out eventually anyway."
"That's the spirit, Nephew." Iroh got to his feet. "Now, I think I'm going to take you up on your suggestion to have a cup of tea… after I talk things over with the crew. Then when things have settled down, I will begin thinking of ways to work with your bending once you are up to it."
"Uh-huh."
"Good night, Zuko."
"…night."
And he drifted off to sleep.
…
When General Iroh entered the mess hall, Jee expected his posture to be one of silent aggression. Rather than red-faced fury or bouts of screaming, loss of temper in the old man was generally marked by a suppressed wrath that even the bravest of men found terrifying. His ever-present smile disappeared, and his eyes focused on a man's face so piercingly it felt as though he could look into his soul.
To Jee's surprise, Iroh looked more resigned than anything. The cool anger he had expected to see was entirely absent, and even the detachment that'd been in his eyes when he'd hauled Zuko onto the ship had softened into something slightly less intimidating.
From what Jee could tell, the rest of the crew was as relieved about this unexpected development as he was.
"Earlier today," said Iroh without introduction, "you betrayed your prince with what seems to have been very little pressure from Commander Zhao's men." Jee did not miss how many of the men shifted guiltily. Not because they regretted their actions, but because they regretted how easily the old general had found out about them. "Your behavior, while not entirely the cause, contributed to some degree of harm befalling my nephew."
More uneasy looks.
"But because your actions were understandable, if not honorable, you shall not be punished." Sighs of relief. "However, I expect more loyalty from you in the future." He's mad if he thinks that's going to happen. Not after what happened in the South Pole. The crew began muttering amongst themselves, backing Jee's opinion.
Iroh cleared his throat, eyes flashing with annoyance, and the room immediately fell silent.
"My nephew, as you well know, can be difficult to deal with." A pause. Iroh looked uneasy for the first time Jee could remember. "Circumstances surrounding recent events have also put many of you ill at ease. However, you must understand that Prince Zuko is having a difficult time with these happenings as well. He does not like to show weakness and so you have not seen it, but he is unsettled by what has occurred. He is also hurt that you turned against him when he was already in a challenging situation."
Akio snorted.
"Hurt? The brat doesn't feel-"
Iroh whirled on him, nostrils flaring as his eyes narrowed to slits. The aggressive posture he had been missing before appeared quick as a lightning strike, and Jee tensed even though it was not him the general was angry with.
"Prince Zuko," he said harshly, "feels more strongly than anyone I have ever met, but he believes doing so makes him weak and so does his best not to show it. Do not act as though your actions do not affect him. Every ill word you utter against him piles grief upon a sixteen-year-old boy who has experienced too much of the emotion as it is."
"What does a prince know of grief?" snorted another member of the crew—Ping—skeptically.
"He knows more than I have a right to tell you without his consent," Iroh said. A deep breath, and his expression calmed. "But I feel that I must speak of his most recent troubles to some degree. Yes, I am aware that my nephew should likely be dead and that there were suspicious occurrences surrounding his survival. Neither Zuko nor I know what happened, but I do know that he did not call upon malicious spirits, he is not possessed by malicious spirits, and he does not appreciate you treating him as though he is. I am certain that whatever entity saved him did so not to cause those around him difficulty, but because it did not wish to see my nephew's destiny cut short."
Jee shook his head. No one cared how Zuko appreciated being treated, and they certainly weren't going to believe the brat was kept around because he had a destiny to fulfill. That was wishful thinking on Iroh's part. Jee was not as superstitious as most and refused to stomach the nonsense some spoke about the prince returning from the dead to wreak havoc on his ship, but even he believed that the spirit rumors were more likely than Iroh's hopeful words. As much as he wanted the prince's crazy mission to end so he could return home, he was well aware that catching the Avatar would prove impossible if their first attempt served as any indication. Zuko's so-called destiny was blindly chasing a prize he would never find, likely for the rest of his life.
There was nothing more. The kid didn't have the talent or capacity for anything more. His life's work, it seemed, was to try and fail to snatch up that kid so he could go home.
Iroh seemed to sense that many of the men were having similar thoughts, because he quickly began speaking once more. "Very well. Believe what you will on that account. I do have something that may change your mind, however; information that you must swear to keep upon this ship. If I find that you have spread rumors of what I am about to tell you, I will personally oversee your punishment. My nephew needs this to remain secret, and if you cannot find the respect to do so for him, I ask that you listen to my plea out of respect for myself."
Silence descended over the room. No one protested. They would most all die for Iroh and the general knew it.
"Good. Now, I am not certain whether you have heard, but my nephew recently engaged Commander Zhao in an Agni Kai-" Several of the crew couldn't contain skeptical laughter, and even Jee raised a brow at the notion. Zuko was good, but against a master? He wouldn't have stood a chance.
Laughter was not the right response. Iroh stomped his foot on the floor beneath him, and the displeasure on his face prompted the men to quiet themselves.
"After it began, Zuko realized his bending had been altered by his recent experiences." Iroh took a shaky breath, eyes haunted. "It did not work properly. He could only bend the barest amount of an odd, harmless type of flame, but he refused to back out of the challenge."
Jee almost choked on his breath. Agni. No wonder Iroh looked so upset.
"He evaded Zhao's attacks for a fair while, but was eventually hit. Zhao showed no mercy after. My nephew was knocked to the ground and burned, and he became quite… upset after Zhao mimicked the move the Fire Lord used to give Zuko his scar-"
"What?!"
Taro's blurted response was gratingly loud against Iroh's low, steady voice, but the exclamation only mirrored what was running through Jee's head.
Did he just… did he just say the Fire Lord gave him that scar? His father?
Jee gawked at the former general. That was… that would have been just under three years ago. When Zuko was thirteen.
"The Fire Lord couldn't have done that," said Akio.
"I thought it was a training accident," the helmsman, Ichiro, muttered, echoing Jee's own assumptions. "It had to have been-"
Iroh cleared his throat and seemed somehow to look each of them in the eye at once. Something horrifying was reflected in his features, and Jee found himself unable to help but look away.
"It was not an accident." He sighed. "His father is the one who gave him that scar, but this is not the time, nor the place for the story. There is too much other information to be absorbed, and… I do not think Zuko would want me to give you another reason to talk about him at just this moment. Please…if you could focus." The muttering died down, the room obviously unsatisfied, but Iroh pretended not to notice the discontent and continued speaking.
"After Zhao hit Zuko, my nephew crumpled to the ground... I thought Zhao was going to kill him. He certainly intended to do so. It was only as he moved to deal the final blow that Zuko utilized his bending in order to protect himself." A pause. "It was not natural bending. The flames that erupted from his hands were… several different colors, and rather than disrupting Zhao, they first surrounded Zuko. I was worried for a short time, but soon it became apparent that the fire was healing him." More disbelieving murmurs broke out amongst the majority of the men, but Jee could only stare. It made too much sense. He had seen the boy as the former general hauled him back onto the ship; Zuko had been unconscious, but not burned. Not like Iroh stated he should have been.
"After-" Iroh paused, and once the crew recognized he meant to resume his tale, they immediately fell silent. "After he was healed, the fire then went on to engulf Zhao. It did not burn him, yet he was knocked unconscious. Zuko was tired, but he maintained enough control to exit the arena victorious. He is attempting to rest off the exertion now."
"You… you can't heal with firebending."
"Zuko beat Zhao?"
"That's impossible!"
"He really is a freak-"
"That's enough!"
Silence fell once more, and Iroh took a step forward as if to assert his control over the room. "I have told you what I saw. I do not know what happened, nor do I know if the change is permanent. If it is, Zuko's offensive and defensive bending will be dramatically weakened, and I warn you to say nothing about it. I also ask you to silence your theories on why this has occurred. If we ever become privy to such information, it will be through supernatural revelation, not hurtful theories. Finally, Zuko is struggling very much with this new development. I warn you to make it no more difficult on him than necessary."
Silence. Then Akio demanded, "Why should we care? He makes everything difficult for us."
"I talked to him about improving his attitude. He promised he would attempt to treat you with more courtesy should you attempt the same towards him. If you break the agreement, he has already promised to go back on his half of the deal; the same goes for you—the arrangement is void as soon as he behaves badly towards you. Please try to be civil, however. Difficult times are ahead. It will not do for us to make things harder on ourselves."
"General Iroh," said Ichiro, before anyone else had a chance to speak. "Is continuing the mission even worth it? Without his bending, will Zuko be able to capture the Avatar?"
"Will his father allow him home even if he could?" added Taro. "I doubt the Fire Nation would want a 'healing firebender' on the throne, no matter if the kid brings home a hundred Avatars."
Iroh sighed. "I cannot answer either question. Let us simply continue as we have been and see where fate takes us. Will you all be able to accept that?"
There was some grumbling, more muttered questions, some pertaining to Zuko's scar and even more revolving around his altered bending, but Iroh refused to answer until every man in the room reluctantly nodded their assent.
"Good." For the first time since the conversation began, he broke into a smile. "Now, if you do not mind, I am very much in need of a cup of tea. I will see you all for supper."
Then he wandered off, leaving the men to discuss everything they had just heard.
…
Iroh was fascinated.
Zuko had come to him directly after waking up and demanded to work on his firebending. Knowing that they first needed to determine what, exactly, had become of his abilities, Iroh insisted that his nephew first conjure a small flame.
It was beautiful.
"Do not put it out," said Iroh sternly, upon seeing the look of disgust on Zuko's face. His nephew gritted his teeth, but kept the fire going. Iroh leaned forward to examine the colors more closely, his nose almost brushing the warmth of the soft flame. Even the fire's construction was different than normal; it lapped gently at the air… curiously, almost, as though feeling for a taste of its surroundings. There was none of the hunger that typically characterized fire.
Unable to help himself, Iroh reached out to touch it, ready to dissipate the heat should he need to. To his surprise, however, it was warm to touch. Upon making contact with his skin, the flames curled around his fingers, and Iroh felt a light stream of energy flowing into him. After a moment, a lick of flame ghosted over a small patch of skin that was still raw from the ropes he had used to haul he and Zuko back to the ship in the South Pole. Iroh's eyes widened, and he watched on giddily as the fire gathered to the area and seeped through into his skin. The influx of energy became more tangible, and-
Zuko squeezed his fist shut and looked at his hands with revulsion.
Iroh smiled as he held up his partially healed arm. "Look what you did nephew! Isn't it magnificent?"
"I'm not one of your trinkets, Uncle!" He conjured a flame again, waving it in Iroh's face. "This is not a good thing. It means I'm not a proper firebender. It means my father will never let me come home if I can't fix it."
"Zuko… we discussed this. This is not the end of all hope." Zuko opened his mouth to protest. "We will experiment and determine how to best utilize your new abilities; however, that also includes coming to terms with what has happened."
"Until I can bend respectably again," spat Zuko, "I will never come to terms with this."
Iroh took a deep breath, collecting his patience. He reminded himself that this was very difficult for his nephew, and that Zuko was not yet in a place where he could appreciate his new skill. Even so, Iroh was frustrated by the disgust with which such an amazing ability was being treated. Zuko had been given the gift of healing, and he was acting as though he'd lost everything. It was Ozai's doing, Iroh knew, and yet he could not help but find himself frustrated with his nephew's stubbornness. The boy refused to see the good right in front of his face because he was so convinced that only his father knew what was best for him.
How he hoped Zuko would grow out of that belief before it was too late.
"Maybe a compromise," Iroh suggested. "For half of your training period, we will work with a variety of forms in an attempt to facilitate some sort of offensive bending. For the other half you will do work with healing. The spirits have given you this ability for a reason, Zuko, and it would do you well not to waste it. I believe it would be prudent not only to experiment with this new fire of yours, but also to go over basic aspects of the healing arts. Doing so will allow you to utilize your skills more effectively when needed, and also to spare energy in cases where wounds can be treated through other methods. Is this agreeable to you?"
"Uncle!" Zuko cried, horrified. "I can't… you can't make me train as a healer."
"No," said Iroh calmly. "I cannot. I can, however, heavily encourage it."
"But healers are weak."
He shook his head. "Warriors are proficient in taking lives. Healers excel in saving them. Which do you think is more honorable?"
Zuko opened his mouth, then clamped it shut, staring at Uncle like he'd just spoken complete and utter nonsense and managed to make it sound reasonable. Of course, in his nephew's eyes, that was likely exactly what he had done.
"The Fire Nation would never see it that way."
Don't you think that should possibly tell you something about the current state of our people?
Iroh refrained from saying the words. "Our people are at war, Prince Zuko. They have been for nearly a hundred years. Their focus is on takeover, and so abilities that facilitate conquest are lauded while those that encourage peace and renewal are frowned upon. It does not mean one is worse than the other; simply that, as things are now, the nation's perspective is not entirely objective."
A beat of silence passed, and then Zuko said, "That… that makes sense." He swallowed, looking resigned. "I will work on… I will practice healing." His eyes narrowed. "But only until my bending starts working properly."
It was good enough. "Wonderful! For the next hour, you will find Private Akio and ask him to begin showing you the fundamentals of healing."
"What!?"
"I will see you when you are through with your lesson. At that time,we will work on the other aspects of your training."
Iroh walked off, leaving his nephew gaping after him.
…
Akio was by no means a proper doctor. Nor could he be considered much of a healer. He'd merely gone through a crash course in field medicine and taken to it rather well; his affinity for medicine had become apparent to the crew once he'd taken it upon himself to heal the minor injuries that popped up over the course of their time at sea. After some months, it had become a common fact that if someone were hurt or sick, they found Akio. Iroh had even given him free reign of the sick bay, going so far as to restock the room with fresh supplies and a wide variety of scrolls that covered everything from the proper way to treat a cough, to different methods of wrapping sprained or broken limbs.
Akio had long since memorized the contents of each one; not out of necessity, but because there was little to do on the ship, and he was genuinely interested in learning more about healing. He was aware that some of the men initially viewed his devotion to the practice as downright pitiful, but he'd gradually regained respect as it became apparent how needed his talents were. The only member of the crew who hadn't grown to hold him in at least some degree of esteem was Prince Zuko.
This was precisely why he was so surprised to see the boy hovering in the doorway of the sick bay, his face twisted with annoyance and posture stiffer than if someone had shoved a stick up his ass.
Grimacing, Akio halted in his preparation of what was supposed to be a headache solution. He wasn't sure if it would work—it was entirely experimental—but the effort would be worth it if his concoction could dull the throbbing pain that followed the occasional hangover… or encounters with the prince. Akio found it more amusing to think of his efforts as going towards a cure for the latter issue.
Speaking of which, it looked as though he were going to need some of his own medicine verysoon.
"Can I help you, your majesty?" asked Akio, speaking the last words mockingly. If Zuko was a proper prince, then he was a bright pink flying bison with scales.
Zuko was either too stupid to catch the slight or too annoyed to bother reacting to it. Probably the latter. Much as Akio hated to admit it, the kid wasn't an idiot. Just a brat.
"Private," he said stiffly. He swallowed, and when he spoke again, his voice was slightly more polite. "As part of my training, I am to learn about… about healing."
Akio's brow furrowed in confusion before the situation clicked. Ha. Iroh hadn't been lying when he said the prince had promised to try treating them better—his effort at using a polite tone was evidence of that—and apparently the old general had been telling the truth about the brat gaining the ability to heal with his bending as well.
And now Iroh wanted the kid to embrace his new talent. Zuko looked about as happy about that as Akio would have expected him to be.
"I suppose General Iroh suggested you come to me for help?"
The prince nodded stiffly.
Of course.
Akio sighed. He couldn't tell the kid no without getting on the general's bad side… and without breaking the agreement the crew had made to treat him more decently. If Zuko was going to make an effort to tone down his bitchiness, Akio sure as hell wasn't going to do anything that could shorten the crew's reprieve. Not unless the prince turned out to be an even bigger nightmare to work with than Akio expected.
"Wonderful." He clapped his hands together in mock excitement. "I'm assuming he wants you to learn this so you can augment your…" He made a vague bending gesture. He wasn't a bender and only had a minimal understanding of how firebending worked. Couldn't understand how it could be used to heal, but he wouldn't doubt Iroh's word on it.
"My firebending," Zuko finished, sticking his nose in the air defensively. Daring Akio to protest.
Damn, that kid needed to relax.
"Don't look so testy. I can't bend at all, so I hardly have any right to make fun of you 'cause yours got messed up. I just wanted to make sure." He peered at Zuko. "I suppose we should start simple. I've read that waterbenders use bending to heal- Dammit, don't get so pissy. I'm not comparing you to them—just trying to make a point." Zuko glared, but he didn't look half as mutinous as he had when the word 'waterbender' came out of Akio's mouth. Taking that as a sign to continue, the private went on, "What I was trying to say is that waterbenders heal by manipulating chi. I doubt your bending works exactly like that, but the concept is likely similar."
"So?" demanded Zuko.
"So if you'll be using your bending for this, you'd do well to figure out where all the chi paths are." He moved towards one of his shelves and looked through the assortment of scrolls before selecting one that he'd bought at a port village a few months back. If he remembered correctly, it spoke extensively about waterbenders and healing. "I could tell you, but that would be a waste of time. There are diagrams in this—some stuff about healing bending too. Probably should take a look at that as well."
Zuko eyed him with annoyance. "What makes you think I have time to read?"
"What makes you think I have time to teach you?" Akio shot back.
"No one's making you."
He snorted. "I respect your uncle too much to outright deny you when this was his idea." He made a face. "Besides, we agreed to all play nice with each other, didn't we? Denying you a request simply because I'd rather not deal with your moody glares when I'm off duty would hardly be a good start." He waited to see if the prince would say anything, but the reminder of the deal at least got him to shut his mouth. "Nice to know we understand each other. Now, moving on: there's a lot of crap that tinkering with chi probably won't fix. Probably a lot of little things you won't want to use your bending to heal anyway. That type of stuff is what we'll focus on for now."
He eyed Zuko to make sure the kid was listening. He seemed to be. Was even keeping his mouth shut.
Thank Agni for small favors.
"Let's start with basic physiology. Bones are somewhat important, but internal stuff—that's what you really have to know about." He returned to the shelf and grabbed another scroll. It was weird, giving the brat homework. Made him remember that if Zuko hadn't been banished, he'd probably be at some high end academy or another. Certainly not learning healing, but attending classes, studying for exams.
Damn. That was hard to imagine. A little eerie too. He didn't like thinking of the boy as a kid. It made his circumstances more pitiable, and Akio certainly knew the brat didn't deserve anyone's pity.
Then again, Iroh said the Fire Lord had given him that scar. His own father…
He shook off the thought. Whatever happened, Zuko had probably deserved it. Not sure what could warrant something like that—nothing, nothing could make it right for a parent to do that to their child—but he figured the prince had it coming.
He pushed the thoughts aside and returned his focus to the present.
"Look over this as well. There are drawings—some pretty detailed sketches of bones, organs, muscles—all that stuff. Probably should memorize those eventually, but the chi paths are more important given your… abilities."
Zuko flinched at the mention of his healing bending. Not that Akio blamed him for that one. He didn't know much about the Fire Lord, but he doubted a freak in the family would be tolerated. Iroh's warning to the crew the night before only confirmed his suspicions; Zuko's would be in deep shit if word of his altered bending got out.
"Is that all?"
Akio snorted. "Hell no. That's what it'd be quicker for you to read. There's other stuff it's best to show you. How much time do you got?"
"An hour."
Damn. Akio had been hoping for maybe a quarter that.
He smiled bitterly. "Marvelous… I guess we've got plenty of time to go over herbal treatments then." He gestured for Zuko to follow him to the table where he'd been working on his headache cure. "Ignore that-"
"What is it?"
Akio glanced at the prince. He looked genuinely curious. Not like he was asking specifically because he'd been told not to, but because he actually wanted to know. That surprised Akio enough that he actually answered Zuko's question.
"It's supposed to cure headaches. Remember that village we stopped at a few weeks back, the one in the southern Earth Kingdom with the enormous waterfalls just outside it?" Zuko nodded. "There was a vendor there selling something similar. One of the men bought it, and the concoction worked like a charm. He gave me the last bit to examine, asked me to try recreating it. I've got it mostly right, although I had to make a few adjustments based on available ingredients. That right there isn't perfect, but it's close."
Zuko leaned forward, examining the mixture with inquisitive eyes. "How did you know what was in the original? If it's all mixed together…"
"Smell is a big indicator. There are ways to isolate ingredients too, even tests that show whether or not something's in there. It's a lengthy process that requires a lot of guesswork." He smirked. "Common sense is involved too. There are staples used in certain medicines—specific plants that are especially good for headaches, or stomach aches, drawing out infection… whatever. It isn't difficult to figure out what has to be in something."
The prince frowned for a moment, then asked, "How do you know all this?"
"I've had a bit of field training. Done a lot of experimenting, picked up some stuff traveling or reading. Some of it is just instinct." He waited for Zuko to say something about his lack of real education, but the prince only nodded, evidently accepting the answer. Akio balked, but quickly shook off his surprise. "Um, right. You don't have to worry about that kind of thing anyhow—not unless you want to when you're further along. For now, we can focus on more basic stuff." He picked up a scroll that he'd been looking over earlier. "I won't make you take this with you, but there're some things that'd be good to go over—lists of plants and herbs that help treat illness and minor infections, and quite a few useful teas as well." He couldn't help himself. "Most of them taste awful. If I were you, I'd sneak one to your uncle sometime—might finally get him to shut about how great the stuff is."
Akio flinched as soon as the words were out of his mouth, positive the prince was going to eat him alive for what he would surely see as a show of disrespect. Never mind that Akio had been joking and would die ten times over for Iroh—Zuko couldn't take a joke to save his life, and-
Is he smiling?
Akio tried not to gawp at the slight upturn of the prince's lips. The smile only lasted for a second, was gone so quickly that Akio almost doubted it'd ever been there in the first place, but he was sure Zuko really had smiled.
"As if that could ever happen," the prince muttered, not looking at all as though he'd just done something totally impossible.
"Right." Akio cleared his throat. "So… the plants in the first column are good for knocking someone out…"
Zuko nodded with interest as Akio continued on, going over the appearance and properties of the specific plants and describing in detail how to prepare each one. Apart from a few mutters about how ridiculous it was that Iroh wanted him to learn 'this crap,' he was quiet and undoubtedly attentive. Certainly more interested than Akio ever would have expected.
In fact, it wasn't until Iroh knocked on the door to the sick bay that Akio realized he'd actually overextended the prince's session. By the surprise on Zuko's face, the kid was clearly just as shocked.
"Nephew, you were supposed to meet me on deck ten minutes ago-"
"I…" Zuko shook his head and scrambled to his feet. "I'm sorry, Uncle. We were… I was…"
I was actually enjoying myself and lost track of time. Akio could see the moment the prince recognized that fact, saw the words form in his eyes even though he would never allow them to fall from his tongue.
"I forgot."
"See to it that it doesn't happen again," said Iroh, but he was smiling. Eyes gleaming, he looked to Akio. "And my nephew did not give you any trouble?"
To his surprise, Akio didn't have to lie. "None at all."
"Very good. Now come, Zuko. Let us see what we can do about your bending."
"Right… my bending." He looked to Akio and fidgeted awkwardly. "Could we maybe…"
"You train every day?" he cut in, trying not to cringe as he did so. What in the hell am I doing?
Zuko nodded uneasily.
"That means you'll be here again tomorrow?"
"I—if that's acceptable?"
I can't believe I'm agreeing to waste my off time on this.
"I think I can tolerate you for an hour a day. Meet me down here, same time. And look over those scrolls if you can."
"Right."
There was a moment of awkward silence.
Then Zuko bowed his head.
"…thank you."
Zuko left before Akio could reply, but to himself, he muttered, "Can't believe I'm saying it, but I think I might've underestimated that kid."
Akio had no idea why, but he blushed beet red afterwards, sure that the prince had somehow heard him.