A/N

I should point out from the start that yes, Iroh is really OOC in this given the timeframe in question. Guilty as charged, if you want to bring it up.

Rock, Paper, Killers

"What," I ask, "is the deadliest of these three objects?"

General Yoshida looks at me as if I've gone mad. General Miyazaki looks at the trio of objects on the desk, then gives me a look that makes it clear that he thinks the same.

"Indulge me," I add with a wry smile.

Indulgence is a vice of many generals in the Fire Army. Rich with the spoils of the Earth Kingdom, meat and rice alike finds its way into the bellies of many a commander, while the bellies of the kingdom's people ever shrink.

The bellies of Yoshida and Miyazaki are strong. Muscle in place of fat. I cannot call them my friends. It is only through this madness I am obliged to serve that I can even call them allies. But they are competent. They are loyal. And most importantly, they are not cruel.

I wish I could say the same of other officers. But for now, the game is played.

"Three objects," Yoshida murmurs, as he walks to the desk. "A rock. Scissors. And parchment."

Miyazaki snorts. "How observant of you."

"You would call them different?"

"I would call this a waste of time, given that on the morrow, we will breach the Outer Wall of Ba Sing Se." Miyazaki cannot hide his glee. "After nearly a century of war, the Earth Kingdom will take its last steps to the grave."

And with it, the world, I reflect grimly, as I look at the objects. I imagine my brother likes to play games as well. Toy soldiers on the board.

"The assault will be launched," I murmur. "But for now?"

Yoshida sighs. "General Iroh, is there a point to this?"

I smile. "Indulge an old man. It may be my last time."

"General Iroh, surely you will not…"

"Fall?" I ask.

Yoshida bows. Miyazaki rolls his eyes. I remain silent. I have taken to the field of battle more times than I can count, for I would not ask my men to do what I would not. I would not send Lu Ten into battle without his father.

"The game," I repeat. "Choose your weapon."

Yoshida shrugs, and takes the scissors. He flicks them like the knife he carries in his belt – a weapon of last resort, should his firebending fail him.

"Explain," I say.

"General Iroh, this is…" He takes a breath. "These are blades. Iron can pierce flesh. We are frail creatures, and our armour protects us, but one blade, one neck…" He puts the scissors back on the table. "Iron can do the job as well as fire."

I nod, and turn to Miyazaki. "Pick your weapon."

"Sozin's beard, this is…fine," he snaps. He arrives at the table. His eyes linger on the scissors, then Yoshida, then in time, he chooses the rock.

"Explain," I say.

"I'd like you to explain why this is necessary," he murmurs.

"Explain," I repeat.

He shrugs. "This is a rock. It's in my hand. I bring the rock down, I break someone's skull, I kill them."

I remain silent.

"Also, earthbenders use rocks. And rocks hurled at us can be…painful."

"For some people," Yoshida murmurs.

"I'm sorry, would you have felt better if I took the damn scissors?"

"I would feel better if you gave the general more respect." Yoshida turns to me, and murmurs, "he has led us this far. We can afford one last game before the table is destroyed."

I meet Yoshida's eyes, and nod. In another life, in another time, I may have called him friend. I can imagine a world where I am home. Not in another people's land, bringing naught but death and fire. I can imagine a world where fire's meaning is different, where the name fire lord is not a badge of shame, where hands and minds were turned to kinder, gentler things.

"Well?" Miyazaki snaps. "Stone or scissors. Which is the deadliest weapon?"

But I do not live in this world. In this world, people like Miyazaki rule. Cities are burned. Entire peoples wiped from the face of the earth. In this world, the kind perish, the cruel succeed, and mercy is naught but ash.

"Neither," I say.

"What?" They both ask.

I tap the parchment. "This is the deadliest weapon on the board."

Miyazaki stares at me. So does Yoshida, but in his eyes sparks…humility? Curiosity? One of those things, certainly.

"Paper," he murmurs. "What, to suffocate someone?"

It is not curiosity that serves him well. Instead, in my right hand, I take up a pen, and in my right, I tap the paper's bottom.

"Do you know what this is, Yoshida?"

He remains silent.

"It's paper," Miyazaki sneers.

"Paper," I say. "Specifically, this is General Order Four. It awaits my signature, and mine alone."

Four is an unlucky number in the Earth Kingdom. How appropriate this order may spill their doom.

"Paper is the deadliest of the three," I explain. "With paper, one can make sons heirs, and daughters disinherited. With paper, one can either declare war, or declare peace. With paper, I can make a poor man rich, or a rich man poor. With paper, I can do anything."

"If you have power behind it," Yoshida murmurs.

"Which I do," I say. "And what a terrible curse it is."

Neither of them say anything. They both know what this order means. But if only for my own sake, I tell them.

"I sign this, and our assault on Ba Sing Se begins," I say. "With but two strokes, I consign thousands of Earth Kingdom soldiers to death, and tens of thousands of our own likewise. In less than a second, I-"

"…could secure victory," Miyazaki hisses.

I look at him, as a man might a snake.

"…could end the war," Yoshida murmurs. "Once and for all."

I look at him, as a man might a heron.

"We know the burdens of command," Yoshida murmurs. "We all know a better world awaits us all once this war ends. When the peoples of the world understand the fruits we offer them. If plucked too soon, the fruit is bitter, but in time, it becomes sweet." He sighs, and glances at the war map within the command tent. "And the finest fruit grows on trees that have been…fertilized."

A time when we may have been friends indeed, I think. Was I born too late in this world? Or too early?

He is right about one thing though. The war will end. It has to end. The Avatar is gone, the Air Nomads are gone, the Earth Kingdom is on the verge of defeat, and the Water Tribes will not be far behind. All I can do now is obey my dreams. To take Ba Sing Se.

"Lord general?" Miyazaki asks.

I sigh, and grasp the pen if I might a blade. "Rock, paper, killers," I whisper.

I sign the parchment.

And in doing so, damn myself.