Chapt. 3

A month had passed since Azula experienced those horrible dreams. She felt like a new person. She was kinder, happier, wiser, and even surer of herself than ever before, though, she still had her moments. Iroh described her experience as a "metamorphosis", though he couldn't explain what caused them to happen. Iroh apologized for not telling her about everything when she lost her memory. Azula forgave him easily, for she understood that he had good intentions.

She hadn't seen her counterpart since the nightmares. For some strange reason she felt like she knew her somehow.

A new day; a new Azula. She yawned and stretched, got dressed, and cleaned up for the morning. As Azula was putting her hair up, she felt a chill, like someone—or something—was watching her. Her eyes looked around suspiciously for whatever it was. When she found nothing, she went back to her hair.

The two eyes watched her closely. They were waiting; preying like a tigerdillo ready to pounce. The form stayed in the shadows patiently; silently; quietly. The eyes followed Azula's movements carefully; strategically; then, in one swift movement, the shadow pounced and tackled Azula to the ground, pinning her down.

Azula gasped and almost screamed, but the leather-gloved hand covered her mouth. "Don't make a sound," the masked figure whispered in her ear as it hoisted her over its shoulder.

The mask the figure wore was an opera mask. It was wooden and painted blue, carved in a dragon-like shape. This mask was traditionally known for the Blue-Spirit—a spirit that was considered an outlaw; famous for being quick, quiet, and clever. The Blue-Spirit took Azula to some kind of underground headquarters under a lake. Lake Laogai. It means 'Prison Lake'. The Blue-Spirit set Azula down gently; her fingers quickly went over the other's lips.

"Shhh," it said, softly. "I'm not going to hurt you." The voice was feminine.

Azula found that statement hard to believe, but then again, if the Blue-Spirit wanted to kill her then she would've done it already. The thing that made Azula most curious was the mystery of who could be behind the mask. Her hand hesitantly went forward, then backward, then forward again trying to decide whether or not she should. She sighed and moved her hand forward again, gently grazing the wooden mask. Her hand shifted down to the chin, slowly lifting the mask until the Blue-Spirit gripped her wrist.

"Don't," she said. "My face should never be seen…it's…it would frighten you."

"Sorry, I-I…I—"

"I know…I know."

Azula nodded and sat back, but she couldn't take the silence. "Why did you bring me here?"

A sigh came from behind the mask and the girl shrugged. "Because I needed you alone."

"Alone?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I can't say, but I do have my reasons."

Azula lowered her eyes, and uttered a saddened 'oh'. A moment later, she added: "Why do you wear a mask?"

"You sure ask a lot of questions. If you must know, I wear a mask to hide my imperfection from the world. I am not honorable or worthy to show my face; my mutilation; my distortion; my shame."

Azula frowned. "I'm sorry I asked."

The girl shook her head. "No…you shouldn't be." Then, the girl stood up. "Excuse me, I must leave and fetch us something to eat. I'll return shortly. Do not leave or you'll suffer the consequences."

After a long while, the Blue-Spirit returned with some food, and they ate. Then it was time to rest. Azula shut her eyes, but she couldn't fall asleep. She was curious. Azula watched the girl. She was sitting by the fire; her back turned. Was she thinking about something? Slowly, Azula crept closer; quiet as a meadowball. Her hands, hesitantly, grasped the mask.

The girl's hand gripped her wrist again, but this time more gently. She moved Azula's hand under the mask, allowing her fingers to graze her skin. The girl's skin was smooth, until her fingers came to a burnt-rubbery patch below the left eye. Azula silently gasped. Her hand kept going up so as to get the full effect of the scar. The girl stopped and Azula felt a tickle against the tips of her fingers. It was the girl's eye-lashes. Finally, the girl lowered Azula's hand and silently waited for the moment to sink in.

Azula examined her hand. It had touched a memory; a memory full of pain. Azula looked sadly at the masked female. She was sick of seeing the mask, so she took it off to reveal…her face?

The girl had her face. It was like looking in a mirror, the only thing different was the presence of the scar.

"What's…who are you?" the startled Azula gasped.

The other sighed, "I'm you."

"H-how?"

"I'm from a parallel universe where the lives of you and Zuko are switched."

"S-so you got the scar—"

"From Father? Yes. But I got it for a different reason. You see, father wanted me to be perfect and nothing less. One day, he saw my flaws; burned me; and then banished me. I hunted the Avatar, then later befriended him and taught him firebending."

"But why do you wear the mask?"

There was a long pause. Either the other Azula was choosing her words carefully, or she wasn't going to say anything at all. The other Azula sighed, her eyes averting to the fire light. Finally she said: "It's a long story. I'd rather not talk about it…" Azula thought she heard her mumble something else, but she didn't quite catch what it was. Then, the other Azula rose. "Come," she said, "I must return you to your Uncle. I don't want him to worry about you."