Chapter Five
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It was some days later, after one of his training sessions, when Zuko concluded that practicing his offensive bending with Uncle wasn't getting him anywhere. He'd been working on controlling what flames he had for the majority of his lessons anyway, but what little time he did spend trying to produce normal, or at least hot, fire was a complete and utter waste. He could feel deep down that he no longer had the capacity to bend like he had before. Not unless there was some outside factor that he didn't know to account for.
After his lesson, he told Uncle that he wanted to start practicing entirely with what he could use, and to focus on stamina and healing and defensive work.
Not long after, he also decided that he best start working with his dao blades since he didn't have much left as far as going on the offensive went. Training in front of his crew was out of the question – firebenders didn't use non-bending weapons, and anyway, word of his proficiency with swords would spread across the Earth Kingdom in a matter of weeks given the way his men gossiped – but Zuko wasn't opposed to doing so in private. He'd always loved swordplay anyway, had secretly looked forward to his lessons with Master Piandao a lot more than those with his bending teachers, so taking the extra time to focus on the art was an infinitely more appealing prospect than driving himself mad trying to bend in a way he simply couldn't.
Zuko also approached Jee and told him that he wanted to resume their sparring sessions. Jee with firebending, and he without. "I have to fight the Avatar like this," Zuko said when Jee protested. "I need the practice." He then added a reluctant, "I would be very grateful for the help."
That was enough to gain the lieutenant's reluctant consent.
So started his new routine. Wake up. Train. Search for the Avatar. Read Akio's scrolls until he fell asleep.
Rinse and repeat.
Then he found the mask.
He and Uncle had been searching for supplies (although Zuko suspected Uncle was doing little more than shopping for more of his ridiculous knickknacks) while a number of his men enjoyed shore leave, when a female shopkeeper caught his uncle's eye and the old man wandered off to flirt.
Horrified, Zuko slunk off, telling himself that he would pick up the things the ship actually needed, and then locate Uncle. Hopefullybefore he did anything inappropriate or disturbing-
Oh shit.
Zuko screeched to a halt just as he was about to run into one of the stalls that littered the marketplace. He hadn't been watching where he was going – had been too caught up in getting away from Uncle – and only barelymanaged to stop, less than a foot in front of a pair of hauntingly empty black eyes.
Zuko nearly reached for his knife before he realized that he was looking at a mask. Good ear turning red with embarrassment, he gritted his teeth and took a deep, calming breath, praying that no one had seen him make such an idiot of himself. Thankfully, it seemed that no one was around. Zuko's shoulders sagged with relief, and he made to move on when a white-haired man popped out of the stall and almost gave him another heart attack.
Zuko growled and opened his mouth, intending to scare the insubordinate fool out of his wits, but the man shook his head before the prince could begin yelling.
"I don't mean no harm boy," he said, lips twisted in an enterprising smirk. Obviously a businessman trying to make a sale. "I just saw that ye were lookin' at the mask o' the Blue Spirit. Seems ye were mighty innerested."
It was all the prince could do not to roll his eyes, more annoyed at the merchant's presence than embarrassed at being caught cringing away from a painted mask.
"No," he said. "I wasn't."
"Are ye certain? 'Cause there's a special story behind that piece, if ye wanna hear it."
"I don't-"
The man didn't listen. "It's said that the Blue Spirit wanders the shadows of the Earth Kingdom, helping those who need him. He protects travelers from thieves and bandits, looks out for the poor and hungry – a whole host a things, if ye hear enough versions o' the tale."
"That's wonderful," said Zuko. "But I'm not interested." He looked at the mask one more time, something eerie settling in his stomach. Almost like a foolish part of him actually wanted to buy it.
What a ridiculous notion.
"Even if I told ye the mask was fer free?"
Zuko snorted. "If it's free, there's a reason you want to dump it off on me." That was likelyy the case. The mask was downright frightening. The man probably thought keeping it out on display was bad for business.
"O' course there's a reason, boy." His smirk broadened. "That there mask has been waitin' for ye. It'll be mighty disappointed if ye leave it behind now."
Zuko blinked, eyes roving the man's features and finding nothing but an absurd kind of seriousness. The creepy old geezer believed what he was saying.
"Are you crazy?"
He cackled. "A might bit touched by the spirits, but not crazy yet. I kin see things though, and I think ye best take that particular piece with you, Prince Zuko."
"What?"
"Yer face," the man said. "It's rather recognizable. Perhaps ye might want somethin' ta cover it?"
"Whether or not I cover my face," growled Zuko, "is none of your-"
But he found himself hesitating.
His face was recognizable. If people caught him bending, or using his swords, or realized how sensitive most of his senses were, there would be no doubt that it was Prince Zuko they were seeing. Then most of them would start gossiping about it… and would carry that gossip all the way back to the Fire Nation. To his father. Which, in no realistic universe, would possibly end well for him.
But if a figure in a mask were to do odd things, a mask that supposedly depicted an actual spirit, well…
He could get away with it. Easily.
"I'll take it," said Zuko.
"That's what I thought."
Instead of dignifying such an absurd comment with a response, Zuko yanked the mask from its display and slipped it under his cloak – no use having a disguise if everyone saw him get it – before storming off, certain he could hear the old man cackling behind him.
…
"Breathe, Prince Zuko. Your fire comes from the breath-"
Zuko growled, warm, almost molten fire streaming weakly from his mouth like foam from a rabid animal – actually breathingfire was infinitely more cathartic, but he was beginning to accept his new bending, and not being able to release his anger effectively was hardly a deal breaker – as he bit back a sharp retort.
Another moment to push back the last of his irritation, and then, coolly: "I know how to breathe, Uncle. That isn't my problem."
Iroh shook his head. "Your fire is so sparse, Prince Zuko. If you want to generate it in greater quantities, you will have to find some way to power that generation. When you try again, take a deep breath and attempt to tap directly into your chi."
Zuko curled his lip but attempted to follow his uncle's advice, breathing deeply and closing his eyes, throwing all of his concentration into reaching for his chi. He knew all the paths it followed by heart, was aware of how it was concentrated in his stomach, and so he mentally focused on the areas that it pooled most heavily, did his best to touch as much of that pure energy as possible.
His inner fire flared, and fluid flames flowed from his hands, moving and writhing like a living thing. The fire absorbed Agni's rays in a way it never had before the South Pole, and he pushed more of his own energy into it, tried to make it bigger and stronger, to generate something more than what little he could usually force from his hands …
Zuko cracked an eye open just long enough to see a fragile swirl of multicolored fire spiraling around him, the flames themselves thin but at least there. He held it for a moment longer, tapped into the sun for as much extra power as he was able, before he felt his inner fire start to flicker and allowed his control to dissipate.
The flames dissolved into thin air, and Zuko released a panting breath.
Uncle smiled. "Very good, Prince Zuko. You are improving."
Barely. He wasn't being overly hard on himself either. He couldn't produce much more actual fire than he'd been able to initially; couldn't hold it for very long either. His only substantial improvement was that he found it easier to focus and manipulate his bending how he wanted. Other than that, to his never-ending frustration, his abilities remained one-dimensional. Even healing-wise, he had only a loose grasp of what he could really do and didn't possess the least bit of endurance. He'd read that even water tribe healers could take care of dozens before growing tired, probably because they relied on what was already there to power their bending. He dealt with his own fire – put his own energy into what he was doing. Waterbenders had their water skins, and-
Of course.
Zuko's head shot up, and he interrupted whatever advice his uncle had been in the process of giving.
"We've been so stupid," he said. Iroh blinked, but Zuko plowed forward impatiently. "Bend for me, Uncle."
"Pardon me?" A beat passed, and Iroh's eyes widened as Zuko's request clicked. "Prince Zuko! What a brilliant idea. I cannot believe we did not think of this earlier." He looked at Zuko with genuine excitement on his face. "Are you going to attempt to bend normally with the fire, or will you try to make it so that it is like your own?"
"I… I don't know," said Zuko, a little uncomfortable with the way his uncle was smiling at him, like he was really proud of him for coming up with something that should have been obvious right away. He ducked his head and shrugged. "I think I might have to make it like my own." He didn't want to admit that it hadn't even occurred to him to manipulate the existing fire as it was; such a notion didn't seem feasible anymore, wasn't even something to be considered. His bending had changed intrinsically, and he doubted he could control real fire any more effectively than he could make it.
"As you wish, Prince Zuko," said Iroh. He flicked his wrist and a small, flickering fire burst from his hand.
Zuko reached out towards it, trying to bend the heat away from the flames like he'd learned how to do when he was small. It worked; the fire licked harmlessly over his skin.
He took it in his hand then, making a point not to let it burn him. The fire flickered like it might go out, but soon burned strongly once more. For a moment Zuko wondered if he hadn't actually gained control of the pure fire, but then the flames started shifting to green and blue and red, although they still burned more strongly than those he'd recently been able to conjure on his own.
"…add more," said Zuko distractedly, brow furrowed with the effort at keeping the flame alive. "Slowly."
Uncle nodded, pouring additional orange fire into Zuko's colorful blaze. Both watched with awe as the two kinds of flames blended and grew, eventually turning the same plethora of colors, cooling and softening but burning higher and higher. Zuko's arms shook with the effort of maintaining control, but he allowed Uncle to continue for some time longer before he had to ask him to stop.
Zuko then moved his arms slowly, letting the fire spin through the air in front of him. It wasn't long before he could no longer keep a hold on the flames, but rather than let them disperse as he'd been taught, some instinct prompted him to allow the blaze to close in on himself and melt into his skin. Just like he remembered from when he healed himself after getting burned by Zhao, the sensation was warm and comforting, but as the flames found nothing substantial to heal, nowhere to go, they flowed into and through him instead, settling in his stomach and stoking his inner fire, empowering his chi, flooding his veins.
Zuko's heartbeat ratcheted as time slowed, as every sound and smell and sight was heightened, everything around him growing impossibly vibrant. He felt lighter, more powerful, and fire raged uncomfortably hot through him, pulled and tugged unpleasantly at his skin as though it was demanding to be let out. For a moment Zuko felt like he was going to explode, but in a good way… like he was too big, too powerful for his own body.
Then the additional fire faded and settled and he was left with only a strong heady feeling and a vaguely noticeable buzz of power still flowing through him.
"Nephew?"
Zuko blinked, his vision settling to a more realistic level, although it still remained sharper than normal. He moved his arms experimentally, but the gesture felt only a little different than usual. Whatever change came over him had faded dramatically.
"I'm sorry," said Zuko, shaking his head. "I'm not sure what just happened."
"Your eyes – they glowed." His uncle frowned and examined him more closely. "They are still glowing. What did you do?"
Zuko averted his gaze self-consciously.
"It was an accident," he said quickly. "It didn't feel right to let that fire just fall away – not when it's so…" So alive, he wanted to say, but that made him sound like a fool and so he left the statement unfinished. "So I reabsorbed it. I figured it would just restore the energy I'd used up during our session." I didn't take into account the extra energy you gave it, that I suppose even the sun added in.
"Are you okay? If you have overworked yourself-"
"No." He frowned. "It didn't feel like that." It felt right. "I…" He wanted to say that they should try again, that he should try absorbing more fire – that it might help him in his quest against the Avatar if he could find a way to retain that exceptional strength.
But when he thought about how it'd felt to have that energy running through his veins, flaring up inside him, he became afraid. It was too much, more power than should have been there, and there was something enormous… something sacred about what had just happened to him. He felt too small to control it, not worthy to recreate it.
His pride flared at the mere idea of him not being worthy for anything, but when Zuko thought of repeating what just happened, his hands began to shake.
All that power that had been waiting to explode from inside him? It wasn't something he wanted to mess around with. Not right then. He knew he couldn't control it, not really, and with so much overpowering energy ready to burst out of him, something bad was bound to happen. The way it'd felt, he worried it might tear him apart from the inside.
"I shouldn't do that again," said Zuko finally. He took a deep breath. "I do want to keep working with outside fire though. It might be useful."
"Very well. But that shall have to wait. You are scheduled to spar with Jee momentarily, are you not?"
Zuko nodded absently.
"Of course…"
The session with Lieutenant Jee did not last long. Zuko was still running on an overabundance of energy, his hearing and smell and eyesight still abnormally elevated, and it felt as though he could sense every move the other man was going to make long before he made it. His movements were fast and almost inhumanly stealthy, and he pulled off impressive jumps and feats of balance with little effort at all, even taking into account how graceful he was naturally.
Within a handful of minutes, he slipped behind Jee and wrapped his arms around the firebender's neck.
Jee gaped, but managed to collect himself after a moment and say, voice saturated with shock, "That was… very good, Prince Zuko. Would you like a rematch?"
Zuko shook his head. Whatever was going on made him feel off, made his skin itch and his body feel a little too hot. In any case, it was obvious Jee didn't want to fight him again. His discomfort with Zuko's sudden, impossible improvement was written all over his face.
Hell, even Zuko was a bit uncomfortable. He felt it would be best to hold off on the training for the time being.
"Not today." A deep breath. "We can try again tomorrow." When whatever this is has gone away.
"Of course, sir."
Zuko turned to leave, but then Jee said, his voice sincere: "Unusualas it was, that was very impressive, Prince Zuko."
He froze, his first thought to search for something hidden behind the words – an insult, an insinuation that he was a freak, not a proper firebender, that there were spirits working for him, but…
There was only gruff sincerity on the lieutenant's face, and nothing suspicious at all about his tone.
It was a genuine compliment.
He blinked.
"Lieutenant Jee…"
"Prince Zuko?"
Thank you.
He couldn't bring himself to say it. Hell, he probably didn't even deserve the compliment in the first place. He'd only done so well because of some sort of messed up spirit magic.
Still. Jee's words felt… nice.
Zuko swallowed.
"...never mind."
He stared at Jee a moment longer, then started back towards his quarters, head buzzing with what had happened.
…
Zuko was meditating, heart beating evenly along with the candle flames that surrounded him, when someone knocked on his door. He almost sighed in relief when he recognized that the sound wasn't any louder than his new usual – that the effects of whatever he'd done with those flames had faded. The notion put him in a good enough mood that he wasn't nearly as annoyed as usual by the interruption; in fact, as he opened the door, he recognized that even the scowl he wore instinctively didn't have much bite.
When he saw who was waiting outside, any annoyance fell from his expression completely. Akio leaned against the wall near Zuko's room, hands tucked into his pockets, something of a smile playing at his lips.
"The Avatar has been spotted near the southwestern coast of the Earth Kingdom," he said casually, eyes trained on Zuko's face as he spoke. "Ping has a cousin stationed there, saw a strange bald monk frolicking through the port. Only put it in his letter because he thought the kid was dressed funny. No fucking idea it was the Avatar."
Maybe it was the semblance of calm left over from meditating, or perhaps the nonchalance with which Akio delivered the message was in some way contagious, but Zuko found himself more surprised than enthused at the news.
Or maybe, he thought darkly, I'm not an idiot. Maybe it's finally sinking in that catching the Avatar is no longer the solution to all my problems.
"What port?" asked Zuko anyway.
"Osaka. That was some time ago, but given that we've been pointlessly drifting along these last few days…"
"It's better than nothing," finished Zuko. He eyed Akio oddly; while the man was hardly a fulltime healer and spent most of his days performing an assortment of other duties on the ship, he'd never deigned to serve as messenger-boy. Generally, Jee took up that role. Zuko knew the men usually argued over it; the lieutenant only wound up with the job because he didn't want fighting to start over what should have been an inconsequential task – what would have been an inconsequential task if Zuko apparently wasn't such a horror to be around.
Then again, it looked like Akio had possibly started to not hate him as much, and despite the fact that a prince shouldn't care what a low-ranking peasant thought of him, he couldn't help but feel grateful.
That gratitude did little to quell his curiosity. Sharply, he asked, "Why are you the one telling me this?"
Akio snorted.
"You're not an idiot. Most of the men would rather clean out the latrines than deal with you when you get worked up about the Avatar. Ping wasn't going to say anything at all. I volunteered because the information never would've gotten to you otherwise, and unlike the dumb shits who think it's funny to screw with you, I want to get home sometime this millennia."
Zuko gritted his teeth; nothing surprising, but the knowledge that one of his men wouldn't have even bothered telling him-
The thought died the second he recognized that Akio had gone out of his way to make sure he did know.
He swallowed. It felt like he should somehow recognize what the man had done for him, like he should make sure his appreciation came across in some little way, but all the things that ran through his head sounded stupid – sounded sappy and weak and downright pathetic.
One of his men had done his job. The fact that he was so surprised about something like that only showed how awful of a commander he was.
Zuko forced the thought from his head and finally settled on saying, in a professionally detached voice, "Your honesty is much appreciated."
"Three years too late," Akio muttered, quietly enough that Zuko wouldn't have heard had he been normal. Zuko had to deliberately keep himself from gawking. Akio, as though he'd said nothing out of place, smirked, "Appreciated enough that you'll deign to take a suggestion from one of your underlings?"
The odd warmth that'd settled over him was replaced entirely by incredulity; he'd been working with Akio for a good length of time at that point, and if the slightly older man had ever acknowledged that he was an 'underling' in any way, shape, or form, he sure as hell never acted like it.
Really, he acted as though they were equals.
Zuko hated to admit it, but that felt more natural anyway.
"What kind of suggestion?"
"Last time you went on shore to find the Avatar," said Akio, "a whole village got burned down and you seemed rather upset." The last word was said carefully, like he was being careful to make sure Zuko understood it wasn't an insult. "You can claim that you had something to do with it, but you can't burn a thing, Prince Zuko. The crew got attacked and the situation spiraled out of control."
Zuko narrowed his eyes. "You're telling me that I shouldn't take any men with me."
"I'm not telling you anything. I'm suggesting it. There are little bands of Earth Kingdom troops posted everywhere, especially in areas with a strong Fire Nation presence. You lead men on shore, all the civilians that might know something are going to hole themselves up in their houses, and the soldiers are going to come out and fight. You know that."
Zuko pursed his lips as he thought that over. He did worry that if the Avatar happened to still be in the area, he wouldn't be able to effectively capture him, but chances of that were slim in the first place. This would be little more than a reconnaissance mission, where subtlety was infinitely more important than firepower.
Going on his own would also eliminate the risk of repeating what'd happened on Kyoshi.
If I go at night and take my mask, Zuko thought slowly, growing fonder of the idea, I could find an Earth Kingdom military camp or something of that sort. They'd know more about the Avatar than anyone else, and with my hearing eavesdropping would be easy.
"Good advice…" He couldn't help but sarcastically add, "For an underling."
Akio grinned. "Just wanted to make sure you knew I wasn't trying to undercut your authority."
"That would have been the first time?"
"Touché." He didn't skip a beat. "I'll talk to Shou and tell him to set course for Osaka," he said, referring to the helmsman. "And maybe Taro. You want us plowing full speed ahead?"
Zuko paused. Then: "No. I have… things to do before we reach land." Like scrounge up nondescript clothing, and find a way to convince Uncle I'll be perfectly safe going out on my own in the middle of the night. The latter thought especially made him cringe. It would be easier to simply sneak out, but Zuko knew speaking with his uncle promised less trouble in the long run. The need for stealth was explainable. Other situations where it wouldn't be could arise in the future, and Zuko didn't want to risk his uncle's trust before it was necessary.
"Of course, sir."
With that, Akio left to speak with the helmsman, and Zuko wandered in the direction of Iroh's room, already attempting to figure out just how he was going to justify his planned solo mission.
…
To Zuko's surprise, Iroh approved of his decision to survey the area on his own. He expressed a strong degree of concern and reminded Zuko several times to maintain caution, but he also relented with very little convincing.
As such, nothing stopped Zuko from leaving shortly after the ship docked late that next evening, He changed into a set of the plain black clothing standard soldiers wore underneath their armor and carefully shouldered the sheathe in which his dao blades rested. Then he retrieved his recently acquired mask from under his bed and placed it over his face with an oddly ceremonious gravity. The moment felt significant somehow, although Zuko was unable to determine exactly why.
For a moment he stood where he was, fingers still on his mask, not willing to move or disturb the strange feeling that came over him when the cool wood settled over his skin. It felt as though he'd just done something that would change his life.
It was ridiculous, but he allowed himself a second longer to appreciate the moment before returning his focus to the task at hand: finding those who would know the most about the Avatar.
As Zuko slunk off his ship, careful not to get caught for fear that a sighting by one of the crew members would risk his anonymity, he felt a lot more content with his circumstances than he had for years. There were no worries about what would come after capturing the Avatar because that particular possibility was still far off. His only concern was finding information about the boy's location. The rest would come later.
There was also something liberating about keeping his face hidden. For one evening, he wouldn't have to worry about facing embarrassing rumors or disgusted stares. He'd simply be a shadow in the night. A shadow with a mission that, for once, wasn't impossible.
After slipping into the town, Zuko took to roaming the streets, ducking behind stalls and through dark alleys. Although the mission was serious, he had something of a smile on his face as he moved; sneaking around was exciting in the same way playing hide and seek had been when he was younger, back when Azula was willing to spend time with him and still actually participated – before she started telling him to hide and then left him holed up in some obscure location for hours, until his mother found him and gave him a hug and said the game was finished and he'd won.
What I wouldn't give to have my family back, thought Zuko unwillingly. He shook his head. It wasn't the time, and either way, he couldn't get his family back. Not like that. Azula was different, and his mother… his mother was gone.
Forcing himself to focus, Zuko caught sight of one of the many taverns that crowded the harbor town's pier. He snuck towards the noisy building, focusing his attention on the promising venue in front of him. The smell of alcohol and sweat and slightly burnt food stung his nostrils and left a bad taste in his mouth, but he could hardly regret his advanced senses – not when he was perfectly able to hear a handful of conversations in the bar simply by positioning himself underneath an open window.
At first he only caught a jumble of noise, so he began listening for specific words that would lead him to potentially Avatar-related topics. Things started slowly, but after an hour or so several men settled themselves right above his window. Zuko soon learned that they were part of a local rebel group that had been failing miserably in their fight against the Fire Nation and was on the brink of giving up. For a long while, they talked in hushed voices about how they shouldn't have tried resisting in the first place. They brought up burnt homes and killed families and admitted repeatedly that it just wasn't worth it anymore.
Of course it isn't worth it, Zuko couldn't help but think. We're trying to help. You idiots are bringing the suffering on yourselves.
Then he thought of Kyoshi. He thought of how devastating the Fire Nation's presence had been there, when Zuko had honestly meant to do nothing more than get the Avatar and leave. How much worse would things be in places soldiers were actively trying to conquer? Where fighting happened so often, and people like those female warriors, people who refused to be taken over, kept trying to get rid of the Fire Nation presence over and over again until they finally lost hope and gave up?
He didn't even have to wonder at how to answer his question. He'd seen places like that on his travels, places where the Earth Kingdom citizens had gray, drawn faces and were all much too thin. How much could the Fire Nation really be helping if the people they conquered looked like that?
Thankfully, his thoughts were interrupted by a few short sentences that would have caught his attention from a mile away. "We can't give up now. The Avatar is back."
"'s just a rumor," someone protested.
"There was a kid in town – had airbender tattoos, was wearing the old monks' robes and everything. I saw him just a few days ago."
"Doesn't mean he's the Avatar."
"The merchants from Kyoshi, they say he was there too. I think he really has returned."
"People have been saying the same for years. Bullshit, all of it."
"Duck heard that group of kids talking, said the bald one wanted to go Omashu, to play on some mail chutes. If that's all he's doing, do we want him to be the Avatar?"
Shit.
Zuko scowled. He'd had almost ridiculously good luck in catching the conversation, but learning the Avatar was probably, by that time, actually in Omashu canceled that out. Omashu was inconvenient. He and his men couldn't get anywhere near the city without running into trouble, and while he had no doubt that he could don his mask and sneak in, he'd have no way of getting the Avatar back out while still avoiding Earth Kingdom authorities.
He would have to travel in that direction and wait until the kid left. The flying bison was easy enough to spot; if they were close enough to see the beast take off, he could follow its trail from that point on. At least if the kid continued traveling over the sea. If not, well—Zuko would have problems.
I'll dwell on that later. First, I need to have my crew set sail for Omashu.
Having gathered as much information as he was likely to find, Zuko stood from his crouch and stretched his legs a moment before starting back out of the village the way he had come. As he walked, he attempted to determine his chances of reaching Omashu before the Avatar took off. If the boy really wanted to go play on the mail chutes, which was ridiculous but sadly plausible, he probably wouldn't stay for long. He could possibly already be gone. Omashu wasn't far away, not with that bison, and anyway, Zuko was already several days behind.
But Omashu was a start. He would head towards the city and go from there, maybe-
Is that crying?
Zuko halted and listened, but relaxed somewhat when he recognized it was only a baby, the sound unnaturally loud in the otherwise silent night. But that was normal enough. Babies cried.
Then why doesn't it sound right?
He slowed somewhat, sensitive ears honing in on the noise. It was only a moment later that he recognized it hadn't been coming from a nearby house like he'd originally thought, but somewhere closer— and there were other sounds with it. Not just a baby crying, but a woman too. Low, pained whimpers that certainly weren't normal.
Tentatively, Zuko crept towards the cries, concern taking precedence over common sense. Even as he moved forward, he attempted to convince himself that he was being an idiot, that whatever was going on wasn't any of his business, wasn't-
He stopped mid-step as the smell of blood hit his nose hard. Immediately he streaked towards the sound, cautious tiptoe changing to a silent jog.
The noise led Zuko to the mouth of an alley, if the narrow, dusty path that ran behind the village's shops could be considered a proper alley. His eyes weren't any better than they'd been before, were worse than a normal person's really, since his left eye hadn't been able to catch anything more than shadows since his Agni Kai, so he couldn't see much through the darkness, but his other senses told him more than enough. There were three people: the baby, the crying woman, and a man he hadn't heard initially. A man who he was whispering comforting words to his wife, words about how she would be okay and that she couldn't leave him, and that she had to live for their new baby.
She's just given birth.
He worried first about the baby because its crying had been loudest, but quickly dismissed the concern; crying didn't mean much where babies were concerned, and this one smelled healthy enough, its heartbeat perfectly steady. It was the woman who was having problems, she who the blood was coming from. He'd hardly read about childbirth in his scrolls, but with all that blood… there had to have been a hemorrhage or tear or something bad. Something that was going to kill her. Something that, by the desperation in his voice, her husband knew was going to kill her.
Don't you dare, Zuko told himself. They're homeless… useless Earth Kingdom peasants. And… and… He stalled uselessly, unable to mentally voice that his biggest problem was embarrassment for having run across the scene in the first place; even though he couldn't see much, he had a good idea of where that blood was flowing from, and just the idea of birth and fluids and stuff coming out of women parts made him uncomfortable.
He'd felt a hell of a lot more at ease with the burn victim. She had been his fault anyway. The scene in front of him was none of his concern, and the woman was homeless besides; a drain on society, and-
What will you lose if you help? They won't even know it's you. It'll just be a person in a mask.
Zuko swallowed, but that voice – that ugly little conscience that had caused problems for him his entire life – made very, very good sense. The idea of leaving that woman there to die grated at him, especially considering that helping would cost him nothing.
Taking a deep breath and trying not to cringe at the metallic tang of blood on his tongue, he stepped deeper into the alley.
As was to be expected, the man cringed as soon as he saw Zuko. Even the weak, weary woman moved further into herself, her moaning going quieter as she tried her best to disappear. Paranoia told Zuko that speaking would be detrimental to his plan of remaining forgettable, but he also saw that if he didn't say anything, the woman was going to try to run and probably kill herself.
Not like he blamed her. He knew very well that the mask he'd picked was scary as hell, and the swords on his back wouldn't make him appear an ounce more trustworthy.
Reluctantly, but not as much so as he would have expected, Zuko said, "Relax." He realized just how like a teenage boy he sounded and made an effort to lower his voice before he spoke again, to make it profound and spiritual in the hope that they'd write the occurrence off as an act of the 'real' Blue Spirit. "I wish to help you."
"W-we're fine-" started the man, although he looked taken aback at Zuko's words. The woman attempted to move again, but fell back against the wall of the alley with a barely stifled scream. The smell of blood worsened.
Now slightly frantic, Zuko withdrew his swords from their sheath – eliciting a gasp from the couple – and tossed them to the ground.
"I'm unarmed now," he said, voice almost pleading. "I can help."
A pause. And then, desperately: "Fine… if there's anything…"
He didn't wait for the man to finish, instead rushing forward and kneeling next to the woman. Blood soaked his knees and he had half a mind to recoil in disgust, but he bit back the urge in favor of reaching out to her. "There will be fire," he said, already concentrating on expanding his inner flame, "but don't panic. It will help you."
"What-"
Zuko was already bending by that point, and the man's mouth clamped shut as he saw the colors erupting from his hands. Falling into the sensation of healing, Zuko all but forgot his worries of awkwardness as he focused on keeping the flames strong and providing a consistent flow of energy into the woman. She'd lost a lot of blood, and even after he felt parts – Zuko refused to get more specific than that – heal, he continued infusing her chi with his. Even though his inner fire strained at the extra effort, he didn't want to risk her dying of blood loss.
"Hiro..." whispered the woman when Zuko finally leaned back on his heels and allowed his fire to go out. She extended a hand, and the man grasped it tightly. "He helped me. I think… I think I will be okay." She looked at Zuko and smiled blindingly. Despite her sweat-drenched hair and filthy cheeks, she was beautiful. Young too. He hadn't realized it before, when her features had been contorted in pain, but now it was painfully obvious. She couldn't have been older than twenty.
"Thank you," she said, the words spoken with the same startling gratitude that was apparent in her smile. Then, to the man: "Can I hold our son? Now… now that I am well, I need to meet my son."
Now smiling, the man picked the baby out of his makeshift bed and handed the boy to his wife.
She cradled him in her arms, looking at the pink, pinch-faced bundle with such open love and devotion that Zuko almost felt ill. The father, he noticed, gazed at the both of them with uninhibited adoration.
Zuko's gut went hollow. Why couldn't his father ever have looked at him like that? Why had he had to lose the mother who had? Why-
This is hardly the time to be thinking of this.
Uncomfortably, Zuko cleared his throat. "She should be fine," he told the man. "But…"
He looked at both of them, at their dirty clothing and the lack of bed for their child. It tore at his heart that he had no way to remedy their obvious need, that he hadn't brought even a little extra food from his ship. It hadn't seemed necessary for a night-long outing, but now he wished he had even something as simple as a loaf of bread.
"You have done enough," insisted the woman, somehow guessing his thoughts. "We will find a way to make do. My husband is not unskilled, see; he is a blacksmith, but the Fire Nation burned down our home after they learned he was helping the rebels… if we move on, it will be easy to find work."
Zuko recoiled.
He'd heard those rebels in the tavern talking about the Fire Nation, about burning homes and… and killing families. But hearing about such things and seeing them with his own eyes were two entirely different things. And really, he hadn't believed the worst parts, had thought they were the result of too much Earth Kingdom propaganda.
He told himself the woman was lying, but couldn't convince himself of something that made so little sense. The couple had no idea who he was, if anything would've imagined he was on their side since he'd gone out of their way to help them. The woman wasn't making a play to turn Fire Nation nobility to their cause. Unless there was something Zuko was missing, she had no reason to have told him anything but the truth.
While Zuko supposed that perhaps it would have been reasonable for the Fire Nation to shut down the man's business upon learning of his entanglement with the rebels, it was something entirely different to burn down his home. Disgust rolling in his stomach, he recognized that this probably hadn't happened very long ago, that the family would have already moved on if it had. If the woman was to be believed, Fire Nation soldiers would have left a very pregnant woman and her jobless husband on the streets out of what couldn't have amounted to anything more than spite.
Zuko couldn't fault the Fire Nation for trying to put down insurgences, but what'd happened to this family was cruel and unnecessary. Just like anything similar that might have happened to the other families those rebels had been talking about in the tavern… those rebels whose words he'd barely acknowledged before, but that he now couldn't seem to get out of his head.
His earlier thought about the Fire Nation maybe not helping came back to him in full force.
But surely that wasn't true. The Fire Nation did help people, or at least they tried to. What was going on in Osaka was a fluke. It had to be. His father would neversupport something so barbaric. He wouldn't allow his soldiers to kill families and burn down homes to put down a rebellion that never had a chance in the first place.
…would he?
Zuko swallowed.
He honestly didn't know.
"Are you okay?"
Zuko snapped his head up, realizing that the woman's eyes were still on him. "Um. O-of course," he managed, the weighty quality he'd been trying to keep in his voice falling off with his increasing unease. He took a deep breath and forced himself to focus on the matter at hand. He could worry about the other stuff later. "…do you have any food at all?"
"We will find some," said the man, pride ringing in his voice; he was beginning to get annoyed with Zuko's line of questioning, didn't like that a stranger seemed to doubt his ability to provide for his family.
Zuko pursed his lips but nodded. He hated leaving them with nothing, but thin and filthy as the family looked, there was a certain determination in the eyes of the man that gave the prince little doubt that he would do everything possible to make sure they came out of their situation okay. It wasn't a guarantee, but it was enough to make him drop the issue. He'd helped them, had given the husband what looked to be a renewed motivation to keep his family afloat and granted that baby a future with a mother, or at least the possibility of one. That would have to be enough.
"Very well," he said. Even though he wasn't sure they would appreciate it, not when it was the Fire Nation that had led them to their current circumstances, he couldn't help but add one of his country's traditional blessings: "May Agni's face shine upon you always."
The man's eyes narrowed with just the smallest amount of suspicion, but the woman managed a weak smile. "Thank you," she said softly.
Zuko looked at them a moment longer before slipping back into the shadows, lightheaded from his healing but feeling oddly good all the same. While his learning of the Avatar's last known destination did little but give him a general idea of where to turn his search, the night had been more successful than he ever could have expected. He'd saved a life, and the way he felt right then, he couldn't imagine having done anything more worthwhile.
Even so, he couldn't help but dwell on other, less pleasant thoughts. Proud as he was of saving that woman's life, he also couldn't ignore the events that put the family in that situation in the first place, couldn't discount the rebels' claims that such a thing wasn't uncommon.
Surely what he'd seen wasn't as widespread as that conversation he'd overheard at the bar would have him think. The Fire Nation wouldn't do that.
Yet, as he slipped back into his ship, Zuko found himself wondering for the first time if maybe the Earth Kingdom didn't have a reason for fighting so violently against Fire Nation control, if maybe his people weren't quite as perfect as he'd previously thought.