A/N: The following is rated A; for abuse.
It corresponds, chronologically, with S2E7 "Zuko Alone"
Reader discretion is advised.
Chapter 7 "War and Peace"
Early Spring, year 11 in the reign of Fire-Lord Ozai
"Get. UP," Zuko said as he towered over Katara.
She had, true to her word, appeared that next night, striding out of the east as was becoming usual. They had stared at each other for a good minute before she spoke.
"So, how do we start?" she had asked.
"For true understanding, we must start at the beginning," Zuko said. "The place it always begins. The 'Itami no Kyokun.'"
"What does that mean?"
"It means-" he tapped the wrapped bamboo that sat in his belt in the place normally reserved for his katana- "we fight."
"What's that?"
"This is a shinai, a practice sword."
She sighed. "I guess if I want to understand I need to learn about swords, huh?"
"This is not for you. This is for me, so that I do not hurt you too badly."
She snorted derisively. "And you call me arrogant."
Zuko nodded solemnly as he drew the shinai out of his belt. "It begins."
And then he was on her.
The fight did not go as Katara had expected.
Zuko had decided to really focus on his kenjutsu since Haiya. His bending could be useful, but as his uncle had once told him it did not define a samurai. It now also came with the price of identification. If he could be sure that there was no one around to see, or at least no one around that he didn't mind killing, he could use the flame, but it was a far better long-term strategy to stick to simple unremarkable steel and simply be noted as a skilled ronin as opposed to the infamous "butcher" of Matomo.
Who knew when his sister would get around to hunting him down again.
So, in the intervening hours between sleep and movement, he had focused on physical exercise and non-bending strategy. Curiously, he still felt as though he were bending at times, albeit in minute and invisible amounts, almost as though the residual fire was speeding his limbs along their paths.
Using these recently practiced skills he had flown at Katara, before she could even think to bend, snapping the bamboo sword several places about her hands and legs and knocking her to the ground.
"Get. Up," he said. It was one of only two things he was allowed to say during the lesson of pain.
Katara had risen, snarling and cursing, on the cusp of a tirade. Zuko didn't allow her to get more than a word out before he slammed the hilt of his shinai into her stomach, bowling her over again.
"Only in victory is one's voice truly heard," Zuko quoted, exhausting the second of the phrases he was allowed in the Itami no Kyokun. "Get. UP."
Katara, her mouth a grim line, rolled backward and flung a water whip at him. Zuko dodged this and lunged forward, his shinai making a long arc that connected with Katara's outstretched arm in a loud SMACK.
I can't do this, Zuko thought, wincing internally behind the expressionless mask on his face as she gasped in pain. She's not Fire-Nation, she doesn't understand-
Then she must be SHOWN, he countered internally. This is how it starts, how it HAS to start. Do not DISRESPECT her by assuming she is weak!
The fight, although it was a bit too one-sided to truly be called one, continued. Katara would roll away, try to bend, and then, almost immediately, would be unceremoniously knocked back to the ground. Zuko had been very correct in his assessment; as long as he stayed within a foot or two of her, and forbid her from gaining a solid stance, she was practically defenseless. After she had been knocked back down over a dozen times she simply lay there, panting heavily, cradling her hands to her chest. It was exceedingly difficult to break bones with a shinai (although Zuko's father had managed) but being struck repeatedly in the wrists and hands made them begin to shake uncontrollably. Bending became increasingly difficult, thus further exacerbating Katara's problem.
"Get. UP."
"What is the POINT of all this?!" she shouted, still on the ground.
Zuko did not respond.
"You're supposed to be teaching me! What is WRONG with you?!"
"GET. UP."
She screamed in fury and made a lunge at him. Zuko slid out of the way and tripped her.
Well, at least she's moving forward now.
"Get up."
"Frost take you! You evil… heartless… bastard!" Katara screamed, trying and failing to rise, her arms shaking as she tried to lever herself out of the badland dust.
One more! Zuko thought desperately. Just get on your feet once more and we can stop! Please! Despite his internal misery, his face remained wooden, emotionless.
"Get. Up," he said quietly.
Katara growled in fury and finally managed to get her feet under her. She stood panting, eyes bright in rage, legs and arms trembling with effort and Zuko put the shinai back in his belt.
"Why?" she asked quietly, her eyes narrowed to icy flints.
"You wanted to understand. This is how I began my training."
"How you began-" her eyes grew wider and shocked.
"I was seven," Zuko said, nodding. "It went on for… quite some time."
He decided not to mention that it had been almost an hour before he'd been unable to get back up and that the strikes from the shinai hadn't stopped when he'd been on the ground. His father, then simply Prince Ozai, had made absolutely certain that Zuko had understood the meaning of pain in that first day. Understood that weakness would not be allowed. That the world did not care about you and would destroy you if you did not "Get. Up."
Get up and fight back.
Zuko was quite sure that his face showed that he had not learned that lesson well enough.
"It was the beginning. Of learning, understanding, bushido. I trained every day for six years; it was all I did. War and the sword and the flame and bushido. Even that was not enough to save me from dishonor. I have read of your people. You learn to hunt and fish, to weave nets and sail boats. You learn the sea and the snow and the workings of the tides. I learned to fight. Everything else was secondary, frivolous. This is the focus, the dedication, necessary to truly understand my people."
"And it's necessary to hit people to explain this?" Katara snarled, unappeased at his explanation.
"Words only go so far, and are as nothing besides the understanding that pain brings," Zuko quoted.
"That's… really messed up."
"Everything was done for a purpose. It made me stronger, destroyed weakness, made me the man I am today."
"Yeah, a man who murders people and tried to capture the world's last hope for peace."
"A man who knows his duty and does what is necessary." He shook his head. "We are done fighting for tonight. Heal yourself if you wish, and we will discuss bushido. Exhaustion makes the mind sharper, helps you focus on the words."
"I can't," Katara said acidly, lifting her still shaking hands.
"Ah. That. They… they do that," Zuko said, taking a step forward. "Let me see."
"Don't touch me!" she snapped.
Zuko nodded, and quietly took a small step back, his eye on hers. "What did you learn?"
"That you are an… ICEHOLE!" she snarled.
"I would have thought you already knew that," he said dryly. "What did you learn?"
"…Protect my hands," she said, after a moment of frowning contemplation.
"Yes. All control comes from the hands. It is better to take a larger wound in a less vital spot than in your hands. Your instincts will tell you to throw your hands up to protect yourself. That will get you killed." He took a step forward. "Let me see your hands," he said gently.
"Why?"
"Because I don't like to see you in pain."
"You don't- YOU are the one who DID THIS to me!"
"Yes. Because it was necessary. If we must suffer a small amount tonight to keep you alive in the future I consider that a worthy sacrifice."
She stared at him for a long moment then stepped forward, her hands outstretched. "I will never understand you people," she said bitterly.
Zuko gently grasped her hands, placing her palms together, and then wrapped them completely in his much larger ones.
"If you truly believe that, you should leave and not return." He inhaled and exhaled deeply, then bent, warming his hands significantly.
"How are you doing that?" Katara said, sighing blissfully as relief blossomed across her face.
"Warming the hands increases blood flow, banishing pain and restoring control. It will only last a few minutes, but it should be enough for you to… do… whatever it is you do."
"Seems odd that your teachers would teach you this, what with the whole 'pain is learning' thing you've got going on."
"They didn't," Zuko said, slightly embarrassed, "my cousin Lu Ten did." He paused for a moment, startled at the memory. "That was the last time I ever saw him," he muttered, surprised at the fact.
"What happened?"
"He… went to join his father, in the march to Ba Sing Se. He never came back."
"I'm sorry," Katara said quietly.
"You're sorry? Why should you be sorry? He was your enemy."
"Because I don't like to see… anyone in pain," she said softly, looking up at him.
Oh… ash… she is beautiful.
The impulse to kiss her, right there and then, was powerful, but he resisted it, buried it deep. She had made her thoughts on the matter of kissing him quite clear, and he would respect that.
"Your hands… should work now," he said releasing her, looking away.
She nodded jerkily and bent water into her hands, sighing in relief as the healing took hold.
"I will go and build a fire. If it is your wish you may join me, and we will speak of bushido. If it is not you should return to your camp." He bowed and turned away.
"You can't think that THAT was enough to stop me, do you?" she called after him, prompting a grin to form as he moved back to his camp.
/\^/\^/\^/\^/\^/\^/\^/\^/\^/\^/\^/\^/\^/\^/\^/\
The lesson did not go how Zuko had expected.
He had begun, hoping against hope that it was really unnecessary, with a review of the seven tenants of bushido; courage, compassion, courtesy, duty, honesty, honor, and sincerity. Katara, thankfully, had known all of them, but the true trouble began when they had begun to discuss which of them was most important.
"…and of these the two most important are-"
"-compassion and honesty," Katara supplied, like a student who felt that they finally knew the right answer to the question.
"-honor and duty," Zuko finished, nodding sagely.
They stared at one another for a long beat.
"You… you can't be serious?" Katara said, shaking her head in incredulity.
"I'm always serious about bushido. Why in the Sun's name would you think that 'compassion' is primary? It's barely worth mentioning."
"Barely worth mentioning?!" she squawked. "It's the most important virtue! We're samurai! Protectors of the helpless!"
"It is our duty the protect those under our care," Zuko said, shaking his head. "Compassion is only there to reemphasize that relationship; the weak and the strong."
"We have a duty to care for all peoples, everywhere!"
"Nonsense. It's bushido, bushi-do, the way of the warrior. Not 'way of the nursemaid.'"
"Better a nursemaid than a slave," Katara hissed.
"I beg your pardon?" Zuko said, face and tone darkening.
"You're a slave. It's always 'duty this' and 'honor that.' My honor compels me. As if you had no choice, no free will. You're a slave in the chains you put yourself in."
"Honor is everything. It all anyone truly has! 'Through the fulfillment of your duty is your honor retained.' You are going to call me a slave because I try to do the right thing?"
"'Fulfillment of duty' makes you nothing but a toadying stooge! A gutless creature without the moral fiber to stand up for what's right!" she said, now on her feet, poking him in the chest again.
"A samurai is obedient. It is not his place to judge his lord, only to OBEY," Zuko roared, his face tingling in remembrance of the last time he had truly been disobedient.
"Slave," she sneered.
"Coward," he shot back
"How DARE you!"
"You are a coward without the stomach to make the difficult choices, the RIGHT choices. Life is conflict and PAIN, and instead of accepting that you hide behind an illusionary shield you call 'compassion' and call my people evil as an excuse for why yours were defeated and wiped out!"
"You SHUT YOUR MOUTH!"
"How are you going to make me, Shinjo? Compassion!?"
She looked at the point of murder, and Zuko slid into a firebending stance as she opened her waterskin to retort. Whatever words, or blades of ice, she was about to fling at him never materialized however. She cocked her head to the side, her eyes narrowed.
"You're… afraid."
"Wh-what?" Whatever Zuko had thought she was going to say, or do, it was nowhere close to that.
"You're afraid that everything that was done to you was for nothing. That your entire way of life was nothing but a lie." She did not shout as she said it, she simply spoke in a solid steady rhythm of total and absolute conviction.
"No… that not… The failure was MINE. I was not strong enough, and smart enough to- to… I made MISTAKES and I-"
"People make mistakes," she said advancing on him slowly. "That's why compassion is important."
"Weakness cannot be allowed to claim authority," Zuko snarled through gritted teeth, taking an unconscious step back. "Those who live on the heights must be held to a higher standard."
"Without compassion, without an understanding of human failings, or human frailty, there can be no justice. Without justice, there can be neither honor nor duty. How could anyone claim to rule without understanding?"
Zuko's mouth dropped open in baffled confusion while Katara's face lit up in a smile.
"Looks like I win this round," she said, tremendously pleased with herself.
"No! That's not… Give me a moment…" Zuko sputtered. He wasn't supposed to be losing a philosophical debate against some… barbarian. He practically was bushido.
She began to laugh, further distracting him from thinking of a counter-argument on account of her being entirely too lovely. "Spirits that's funny. You're normally so stoic, so grim. But you get flustered and you stammer like any other boy." She sighed. "It's cute."
Zuko froze in mid-protest, counter-arguments and feeble half-formed rhetoric dying away at once. "Cute?" he said, aghast.
Katara went a startling shade of puce. "I didn't say that!"
"You DID! You very audibly said that!"
"No, I didn't!"
"You did."
"DIDN'T!" she shouted, stomping her foot.
"What are you, five?" Zuko said. He paused a beat, a small smirk appearing on the unburned side of his face. "Didn't you say that honesty was the other most important virtue?"
"…shit."
"YESSS!" Zuko roared, arms raised in victory and any and all pretense of 'stoicism' gone. "And just like THAT, it's a DRAW!"
"Fine," Katara said sniffily, "you're cute. Happy?"
"Concerned mostly."
Katara gave him a blank look.
"I don't recall striking you in the head, but you must have suffered brain damage at some point if you think I am cute." He cocked his head to the side quizzically. "What is it about me you find 'cute' per se?"
"Go whaling for compliments much?" Katara said.
"Can your water sorcery even heal brain damage?" Zuko mused aloud, ostensibly to himself.
"We are NOT talking about this."
"I believe that someone once told me that silence was as good as a lie."
"… you're such an icehole."
"And now-" Zuko's grin turned fierce- "it's TWO to one."
"It most certainly is NOT! You can't possibly count that."
"I most certainly can, and DO. I admit myself intrigued; is there a firebending fetish among the Unicorn? Or are you unique in that regard?"
"No! It's just… come ON! You're not actually going to make me say it."
"I am not going to make you do anything. Your honor, however, might compel you to-"
"Ugggh, FINE! Fine. You're just… cute! Alright? You're tall, got nice muscles, and-" she sighed bitterly- "you've got a 'sexy' voice. Like… sexy… evil… thunder… or something. OK?! You happy now?" she finished with a shout.
"Sexy. Evil. Thunder." Zuko said flatly.
"This can't be the first time anyone's ever said this to you!" Katara cried, face darkening even further.
"Nobody has called me 'cute' since I was a child and you are the first to call me 'sexy' in my hearing." He smiled faintly. "You are a very odd girl."
"Well! You don't have to-"
"I like odd."
"Oh," she paused, "well now it's awkward."
Oh crap, this is what we were trying to avoid!
"Oh… uh… sorry," Zuko said, former confidence draining away at the fact that he'd probably been flirting with her again, despite her insistence that he not. "I… uh… I'm sorry about saying that bit about your people being wiped out. That was going too far." He bowed.
"It was," she said, narrowing her eyes. "Why would you even bring it up again?"
"Uh… You deserve an apology? Also, I think I'd rather we were arguing than awkward."
"You would rather we were fighting?"
"I'm good at fighting. And I'm really not much of a talker, unless… it's arguing. So far, the two of us only seem to have three settings; fighting, awkwardness and… well… you called it 'hormonal-stress-stupids.' But we can't do that anymore, so…"
He trailed off and silence reigned as Katara stared up at him with a contemplative look.
"Look, we should just- just- I don't know. Fight some more? Or… uh… maybe we could…"
Katara smiled at his stuttering.
"You know, this would be a lot easier if you would hold up your end of the conversation!" Zuko snapped. "You can't expect me to be-" he broke off as she rose up on tiptoe and kissed him gently on the lips.
"Shut up," she breathed as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
"But- but- you said that we-"
"Shut. UP."
Zuko shut up.
/\^/\^/\^/\^/\^/\^/\^/\^/\^/\^/\^/\^/\^/\^/\^/\
"We need to set some ground rules," Katara said, a small eternity later, from her position on Zuko's lap.
Zuko grunted in affirmation, not taking his eye from the dying fire. As the two of them sat partially entwined together he noted that his mind was strangely empty, still, at peace. Like he assumed it was supposed to be after a successful meditation.
Sun's name this is better than sake, he thought to himself.
"First of all, there will be none of… this-" she gestured between the two of them- "while we are trying to train. That is cheating."
Zuko took the opportunity to capture her gesturing hand with his own and brought it to his lips, kissing it softly, feeling her pulse accelerate through her wrist as he did so.
"Second!" she squeaked, pulling her hand away and attempting to regain her previous momentum. "Second, there will be no more hitting without some explanation of purpose first. This 'smack-people-around-before-they-know-what's-even-going-on' might be how you learned, but it doesn't work for me."
Zuko nodded and, by way of apology, apprehended her other hand and began to massage it, warming his hands with his bending at the same time.
"Are you even listening to me?"
Zuko locked his eye on hers and nodded firmly.
"Then why aren't you…" she narrowed her eyes at him. "It's because I told you to shut up isn't it?"
Zuko grinned.
"I didn't mean forever!" she huffed. "This would be a lot easier if you would hold up your end of the convers-" Zuko cut her off here, with another, rather serious, kiss.
"Honestly," he said after they parted, running his hands through her unbound hair, "I'm really not much of a talker."
"Thirdly!" Katara said breathily, again attempting to regain control of the conversation, "you… you need to leave my braid alone! You have no idea what a pain it can be to put back up, and I'm already going to have a boatload of awkward questions to field."
"Denied."
"What!? There is no 'denied' option!"
"So, I don't get a say in these rules?" Zuko said softly.
"NO!"
"But I… I really do like your hair."
"…Fine!" Katara said after a moment, rolling her eyes, despite seeming otherwise pleased. "You're lucky you're cute," she grumbled.
"More lucky you have terrible taste," Zuko muttered.
"Hey! And no more of that either!"
Zuko raised his eyebrow in question.
"No more of this self-deprecating crap," Katara said, poking him in the chest once again. "I say you're cute, so you're cute. End of story."
"Katara, we DO have mirrors in the Fire-Nation. I know what I look like."
She glared at him for a moment before reaching up and trying to place her hand on the left side of his face. Zuko's hand came up in reflex and grasped her wrist.
Nobody touched his scar.
"Zuko," she said with the air of a person talking to a skittish animal, "let me go."
"You- you- you don't… I…" he babbled, his working eye darting between her hand and her face in alarm.
"Zuko? Please?" and at her words, Zuko's hand jerked open as if by magic.
Her hand was cool on his scar, although the sensation was greatly deadened by fried nerves. Zuko mindlessly, almost reflexively, closed his eye and leaned his face into her palm.
Pathetic.
"I'd… I'd rather you didn't…" Zuko could even make the rest of the words appear in his mouth.
He was a terrible liar after all.
"You know what I see? Bravery. I see someone who got back up when it would have been easier not to." She didn't say that that was why she was there in the first place, but the truth of that was apparent in her eyes.
There was a long pause.
"So… which is it? Cute or brave?" Zuko said, smiling weakly.
"You're ridiculous," Katara grumbled, releasing his face and snuggling herself into his chest. "It can be both. Anyway, I say you're cute, so you're cute. That's rule four, end of discussion."
"Rule three, I vetoed the bit about your hair," Zuko said idly, wrapping his arms back around her and giving her a squeeze.
"Fine, three then."
Zuko smiled down at her. "Whatever you say, snuggle-bunny."
"DENIED!" she shouted, not even looking at him.
"I do have some rules as well."
"You are NOT calling me 'snuggle-bunny,'" she snapped, leaning back and fixing him with narrowed eyes again.
"I meant serious rules. For one, you need to start carrying a weapon."
"I have my wakizashi."
"Oh? And where precisely is your wakizashi at this time?"
"Well… you moved it. It was getting in the way…" she flushed, remembering his hands on her bottom.
"Your weapon is an extension of yourself, a part of you," Zuko said in a lecturing tone. "You should always know where it is."
"Well, excuse me for being distracted!"
"Besides, I could teach you to use your wakizashi defensively, but it's generally considered somewhat…" he mused for a moment, "…somewhat disrespectful to the blade to use it as anything but a last desperate resort or for seppuku."
"You wanted to say 'barbarous' there didn't you?"
"But I didn't. That's got to count for something."
Katara snorted in mirth. "So, you want me to start carrying around a sword? You're starting to sound like my brother."
"Katara, I don't care if it's a pair of nunchaku or an earther's tetsubo, you need to be able to protect yourself."
"I have my bending."
"Is a samurai defined by their bending? You already expressed concern about someone 'taking away' your bending. AND there aren't always going to be lakes and wells for you to take advantage of." Zuko made his face stern. "I would also prefer if you didn't just kiss your way out of those kinds of situations."
"That would probably only work against you."
"Which would be a violation of your first rule."
She tsked to herself. "I should have known that would come back to bite me."
Zuko seized the moment, and her hand, and gently nipped at her fingertip, eliciting a small shiver.
"So… what do you recommend?" she asked somewhat breathily as Zuko began to massage her hand.
"I know the most about the sword of course, but you and I have very different styles." He paused for a moment, still idly massaging her hand as he considered. "It should be something that compliments water style and gives you an edge in defense. Other than that, it should be something you favor. 'A weapon is an extension of the wielder.' We'll figure out the rest of it as we go."
"I'll go through Sokka's collection. He'll be thrilled I'm finally showing an interest."
"Until you decide on something, we'll just work on water style fighting without bending. You will pick it up quickly, the forms are nearly identical to their bending counterparts."
"Why do you know water style?"
"I was trained to fight the Avatar, master of all elements."
They were both quiet for a moment.
"Rule Six; we don't talk about Aang while I'm here," she said quietly.
"I agree, but how is that rule six?"
"Rule four is 'no calling me snuggle-bunny.'"
"Denied," Zuko said, smile back in place.
"You already got a veto!"
Zuko just shrugged, smile intensifying.
Katara narrowed her eyes. "Keep it up buster, and I'll just have to come up with some awful sounding name for you."
"Do your worst, Shinjo," Zuko growled mockingly, now grinning.
"Oh, I will, Akodo dog."
Zuko's smile fell away. "I'm not Akodo anymore Katara; I told you that."
"OH spirits! I'm sorry Zuko, I didn't mean…"
"It's… fine. It's over and done with. The sun fell out of the sky."
"The sun fell out of the sky?"
"It means that something you never even imagined was possible happened," Zuko said shrugging again. "You just have to keep moving forward," his smile returned. "Live in the present."
For the first time in a long time Zuko found the present to be something worth living in and as he leaned in to kiss Katara, she met him halfway.
She kissed him, he kissed back.
It went on for a while.
"I should be getting back," Katara said, sighing regretfully after they separated another lifetime later. The fire had burned all the way down to coals and the moon was high in the sky.
Zuko made a growl of discontent.
"Relax, grumpy-bear. I'll be back tomorrow night unless my brother is too suspicious," she said after she managed to extricate herself from Zuko and rise to her feet.
"Grumpy-bear?" Zuko said incredulously.
"Would you prefer 'snookums?'" she said, gathering up her wakizashi and putting it back in her belt.
"I am not grumpy."
"You're grumping right now," she said grinning at him. "You did say to 'do my worst.'"
Zuko rose to his feet, attempting to reestablish some sense of dignity. "I will walk you back to your camp."
"No, you won't. Toph would sense you from a mile away. I will be just fine," she said, pulling out a comb and beginning to prepare her hair to go back in its braid.
Zuko advanced on her and gently took her hands in his. She smiled up at him and gave him a kiss.
"Is… is this going to work?" Katara said quietly, a worried look appearing on her face.
"I will make it work," Zuko growled. "I am remarkably persistent."
"So am I."
"Good night, snuggle-bunny," he whispered, only half seriously.
"Good night, grumpy-bear," she answered back. "Uggh. I'm going to turn into one of those kinds of girls, aren't I?" she said scornfully.
"Not in this life." Zuko's face grew serious. "Be careful. The badlands are full of bandits. It would be… troublesome for me I have to kill each and every one of them between here and Chameleon Bay."
"Ha! You be careful yourself," she said, turning to leave. "After all, 'Nobody kills you but ME!'" she called back over her shoulder laughing.
Oh… Shit.
Zuko's jaw nearly hit the ground as Katara disappeared into the dark.
Shit, shit, shit!
Dear honored father, Zuko thought, mockingly composing a letter in his brain. TODAY I accidentally got ENGAGED to a Water-Tribe girl who has NO idea! Please advise!
He stared off into the night the way she had left, mind spinning furiously.
It can't count, right? She has no idea what that means. I mean, when I said it, it was an accident. An accident! Surely I can't be held accountable for…
Shit.
/\^/\^/\^/\^/\^/\^/\^/\^/\^/\^/\^/\^/\^/\^/\^/\
Three weeks. Twenty-one nights.
Twenty-one times after that she appeared, striding out of the east, her face breaking into a smile so fierce it forced an echo of itself on to Zuko's face.
They would kiss, she would vent, and then they would immediately begin discussing the upcoming training session.
It was simpler that way. They were far less likely to start arguing if they kept it simple.
Zuko would show her a maneuver; a stance, a form, a kata, and almost without fail she would know it, or something much like it, referring to it by another name. His assumption had been correct, she picked up better defensive habits rapidly, almost instinctively. He was simultaneously proud of her and annoyed that she so easily learned something that had taken him the better part of seven months to even become proficient in.
Katara's first "rule" was maddening. Close combat practice, by definition, required them to be close. Their sheer proximity set his blood to a low simmer and he began to suspect that she was aggravation that condition on purpose. Standing just a little closer than necessary, holding a submission hold just a little too long, pressing against him in subtle inflammatory ways or deliberately placing her weight on the wrong foot, causing Zuko to grab her hips to make an adjustment, realize what he was doing and attempt to personally discover if he could learn to firebend through the power of blushing.
He called her on it a few times, and all she said was that perhaps he was imagining things.
He might have believed her, had she not seemed so smug about it.
On the fourth night she returned triumphantly holding a familiar copper colored tessen.
"A Kyoshi warrior fan? Brilliant," Zuko said, examining the war-fan with the eye of an expert.
"Yeah, I knew pretty much immediately that this was perfect for me. It just took me days to get Sokka to let me have it." She took it back from Zuko eyeing it curiously. "He seemed… really attached to it."
"Well," Zuko said dryly, "it's not every day a young man puts on a pretty dress and makeup to go to his first battle. I'm sure he was all aquiver."
Katara snorted. "Actually, Suki made him dress like that, in return for showing him some moves. He got over his big head pretty quickly after that."
"Ah yes, 'Suki' was it? She fought well… did she survive?"
"Yes… at least, I think so." They stared at each other for a moment. "New rule. No talking about past battles. This… thing we have is confusing enough already."
Zuko nodded. "That brings us up to… thirteen was it?"
"Fourteen. Thirteen was the mandatory post-training foot rub."
The previous night Katara had insisted he use his "magic-hot-hands" to rub her feet, owing to the fact that she had to walk all the way out here to meet him. Zuko had been about to mention the fact that he had to walk all day while she rode on Appa, but she had already plopped herself down in his lap and any arguments or defenses he might have had dissolved when she rested her head on his shoulder and began kissing his neck.
He had found that neck-kisses were not conducive to coherent thought.
Most of the "rules" had been filed away in his brain under the new category of "things I am not allowed to do when Katara is around." Number eight had been "no sneaking up on me while I'm looking for you." Although he still held that her lack of ability to spot him when he was standing right in front of her was more her problem than his. Rule number ten had been "no breaking wind in my presence," which was not something he had done but instead was something she claimed she was simply "nipping in the bud."
Rule nine was secrecy. Zuko supposed it was an obvious thing, but it made a lot of sense. It was a great deal safer, for the both of them, that her friends NOT know about their… thing. Zuko would just as soon not have to fight the little bald bastard she seemed to think was the savior of the world and if he had to kill her brother it would most likely make her rather angry with him.
And not the sexy kind of angry either.
She would show up and, in the brief interlude between the kiss and the training, she would vent about her day. Usually it about Toph, who had either said something infuriating to her or who had spent the day trying to murder the Avatar with earthbending; something that Zuko was still holding out hope for.
The was one rule that Zuko, by necessity, kept to himself however. "Do not ask WHY she's here." It did not make any sense to him. Surely, she didn't need him to teach her these things. Her brother, while an idiot, had to have had some martial training. He could have very easily given her a few pointers and then allowed her natural affinity for her element take over.
So why come here? Why subject herself to the company of an honorless maimed ronin? He would have liked to believe it was because she enjoyed his company, but…
Who would waste their time on you?
So, he didn't ask. Worst case scenario she would realize that she didn't need him, and not return.
So, a pattern was set, she would arrive, they would kiss, she would vent (he had learned to nod at all the appropriate places after a few iterations) then they would train. At some point Katara would decide that she'd had enough, and then the kissing would resume forthwith. A small portion of Zuko's brain, which apparently hadn't been completely dissolved into mush, commented that he probably wasn't doing her combat stamina any favors by allowing her to decide when she'd had enough. Despite that, any convictions he thought he might have had also turned into saccharin goo when she wrapped her arms around him and called him her "grumpy-bear."
His protestations that he was NOT in fact "grumpy" just made him actually sound MORE grumpy.
After a long time spent kissing, and the now obligatory foot rub, Katara would head back to her camp, re-braiding her hair as she walked. Nights in the badlands were cold, and even heart of fire didn't seem to keep him as warm as she did.
You're pathetic, he always chastised himself after she left. That girl and her friends seek nothing less than the total destruction of your Nation and your family. And here you sit, pining like some kabuki actor in a melodrama.
After she faded from view, he would manage a few hours of sleep, rise with the sun, do his thousand cuts, and then begin to jog eastward.
As he ran, he thought. Running was a mindless task and he could, and did at some points, manage to take small naps while still keeping his feet moving eastward.
He thought about water.
Water flowed. He had known that for years, since his time on the mountaintop with his uncle, but he had not really considered that as something to do with himself until now. Water flowed, it was smooth and fluid, graceful in nature and constantly moving.
Fire burned.
It beat. Staccato. Flashing. Roaring. Like the taiko drums he had learned to play at his mother's insistence.
Yet fire could flow as well. It was his fire, he commanded it, and it would obey. Where others would send a blast of fire, Zuko could send a stream of it. A textbook fire-block was ephemeral, a flickering flare, requiring speed and expert timing.
Zuko wasn't quick.
His blocks were waves. Crashing over attacks and overwhelming his opponents. Attack and defense at the same time.
Like water.
So, as he ran he thought on the natures of fire and water, at first merely to distract himself from reminiscing over the previous night's post-practice session (which had a tendency to make him trip). When the Sun hit the horizon behind him, and he judged it safe, fire would form at his fists and he would bend. Fire streaming, fire cascading, fire flowing, as he continued to run eastward, never stopping, always moving forward.
Towards her.
He was quite certain he could have lived in those badlands forever; running and thinking and training and kissing until he was ash.
Twenty-one days of peace.
But he was fire, and fire burned. It consumed, and nothing could last forever.
On the twenty-second night… she did not appear.
A/N: Ladies and Gentlemen welcome, once again, to the author notes! Thanks for reading this and thus ceding a small portion of your life to this work. Liked it? Hated it? Somewhere in between? Drop me a line and let me know about it!
Meta-bits follow
Shinai: I had the good fortune of having a roommate in college who both owned a pair of shinai and was a competent martial artist. We used to spend the occasional weekend hitting each other about the body with the damned things for fun and exercise. But one of the big, first, takeaways for me was how really vulnerable your hands are. Movies and the like always have people getting cut around the torso and face but your hands are right there in front. A katana is basically a 3-foot long razorblade and if you snap somebody in the wrist with it… well, they're done. They're going to, at the very least, bleed to death unless the fight stops immediately. Hence the reason for the shinai. After the first time we practiced, my hands, which had gotten fairly brutalized, would not stop shaking. I couldn't type, and barely had any fine motor skills for a day or two.
Ahh, to be 20 and stupid again.
I still have the shinai I eventually bought as well as the pair of hockey gloves that I immediately bought.
Getting hit in the hands frigging hurts!
The Lesson of Pain: Gempukku training in L5R, the way it's described is brutal. Far worse than anything that we in the modern world would find acceptable. Far worse than anything I have described I think. But their mindset was the same as Zuko's; better to suffer now that be dishonored later. I think Ozai took it a little farther than would be normal, he does have a tendency to get carried away. The important take away for Katara, and for you, the reader is that Zuko doesn't think anything of this. He doesn't like having to hurt Katara, but doesn't necessarily see what was done to him as abuse. This is not to say that it was NOT, but Zuko doesn't get that. That's the point.
Katara hates duty: This will be the second time now I've had Katara nearly lose her shit when Zuko brings up Duty and I thought I should address it briefly. So, who do we know, from Katara's past, that did something for Duty, because they believed they had to? Someone who might have say… left her right after the most traumatic thing in the world had happened?
If you guessed Hakoda, you win a cookie(metaphorical).
Yes, Katara had daddy issues. Hell on further thought the whole frigging cast has daddy issues. Sokka's got the same ones, Toph's dad doesn't respect her, Zuko... well DUH, and even Aang, in the form of Monk Gyatso, has daddy issues.
Makes you wonder about Bryke.
Anyway, Katara has a problem with people doing things "for duty." It's part of her character. I regret nothing.
The State of the Ship: Ah, young love. Katara and Zuko have entered a phase of heavy petting and not much conversation. They are young gifted warriors both honing their craft and releasing some built-up hormonal impulses. Both of them are going to try to avoid thinking too deeply on the situation, and talking about it. After all the fact that they are making out on the regular doesn't change the fact that Zuko is still an aristocratic imperialist who would be happy to see the Avatar get crushed during his earthbending practice, or that Katara is still a naive moralist who seeks the death/overthrow of Zuko's family. To put it in the nerdiest way possible Katara is Chaotic Good and Zuko is Lawful Neutral.
So, they call it their thing. They're not dating, they just have a thing.
Hurray for lying to yourselves!
Fire and Water: Zuko, and I think he's doing it unconsciously, has had a large upgrade in his confidence (with regard to bending, Katara still makes him feel like an idiot). He has realized he is a master and he is training in a different style of fighting every night. The fact that he's getting a lot of positive reinforcement from a pretty girl doesn't hurt either. But that being said he is working on really understanding water. He's already got a pretty good grip on earth, his uncle was able to give him that, but now he's doing exactly what his uncle wanted him to do. To not allow his thinking to become "rigid" and "stale" he is growing as a martial artist and, a little bit, as a person.
So, that's nice then.
The Elephant Koi in the Room: This is tangential to the work but I thought I should address it. Unless you have been living under a rock, or just haven't been interneting as much as you could be, you will have heard the news.
Avatar is getting a reboot.
In case you have been remiss in your internetting duties let me quickly fill you in with what I know.
It is live action.
It is going to be on Netflix.
It is a "re-imagining."
Bryke is on board and involved in the process.
So… what do we reckon? Is it the rebirth of the fandom? Is it the end of days? Are we finally going to get the Zutara end game that makes sense? I had heard that there was a movie, but I must have missed that as I had been invited to Lake Laogai at that time.
I'd love to hear your thoughts.
Thanks again for reading! You guys are the best!
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NEXT WEEK on a very special "Avatar: The Last Dragon"...
There is a great deal of running and a fateful reunion!
TUNE IN. Same Zuko time, Same Zuko channel!
Original post date: 23 September 2018
