The days rise and set as Iroh works in the tea house, green fragences lingering in and out. Azula doesn't say much in that period. A simple 'yes' or 'no' is a rare occurrence. Customers don't say much about her either. To them, her plain dress and long hair blends in with the background.
One day, Iroh goes to the cherry tree, carrying a strewn basket under his arm. The air is still. He hums quietly.
Approaching the tree, Azula is already there. She's hugging her knees, her plain green dress swaying slightly. She gives a glance when he comes by her side, but nothing more. Her gaze falls back on the city.
the Sun falls in the horizon, half of its lights already blocked by the great city wall. Lights begin to turn on in every house below them. Iroh sits down, placing his basket onto the ground. He opens it. He takes out a few apples, incense sticks, a stand, and at the end...
A portrait. Lu Ten. He's staring back at Iroh, face still and young. Iroh looks wistfully. A moment long ago. A moment in time.
Azula watches from the corner of her eyes. He can feel her tracking his movements. He doesn't mind. He places the portrait at the far end of the cherry tree, right before the cliff ended. He lights up the incense sticks. Then, he puts it in front of Lu Ten.
Once he finishes his tasks, Iroh turns to her. She looks away quickly.
"He's your family too, my niece," says Iroh. He lights two sticks with his finger. The smoke wafts in the air, along with the smell.
She doesn't move.
"It's lonely, you know. Having me as the only one that talks to him," he says.
"So me and him are alike," Azula says. Her voice is so soft and coarse that the wind could've blown it away. Iroh has to strain his ears to hear it.
When he does, his grin only grows wider. "Indeed, you're right. But that's not all you're alike in."
He hands her a stick. The tip glows red. Her eyes widen. She looks at it, then at him, before finally slowly removing it from his hands. She holds it like it's fragile, her fingers barely pressing down on it.
The smoke obscures her face.
"Place it at the stand, my niece."
Azula moves tentatively toward it. Her right hand holds the stick. Then, she pulls back.
"I can't," she says quietly.
"Why, if I may ask?"
She closes her eyes. "I didn't know him that well."
"You may have not, but what does that mean?" Iroh says. "Ask him, when you pray."
"Ask?" Her voice ends lowly.
"Yes. Ask how he is. If he is well or not. Where he is."
"He's gone," she says.
"What is gone can be found."
Iroh takes her hand. She flinches. His grip remains steady. He leads her to the stand. She drops the incense stick, and it lays upright in front of the portrait.
"Pray." He claspes his hands together. Azula stops, her eyes dart back and forth. She breathes in. Then she does the same.
For a while, they sit, eyes closed. A uncle and his niece. An old crown prince, and a young crown princess.
The minutes tick before Iroh finishes his prayers. He looks at his niece. Her hands are still clasped, eyes shut. She whispers some words, and then, she too finishes.
"If I may inquire," says Iroh. "What did you ask?"
Azula looks at the leaves floating to the ground. There's a breeze that rustles the grass.
"How big is your nose, Uncle?"
Its the first time she jokes with him. Iroh notes it down in his mind happily.
"Exquisite, my niece," says Iroh, pouring the whole cup down. He puts it back on the table. "You've let the leaves steep just right enough, and your touch for mixture is impressive."
A smug smirk spawns on Azula's face. It reminds him of a younger girl.
"Thanks," she says, smoothing her apron.
Iroh cleans his face with a towel. Then his eyes land on her. "Azula, it's clear to me that you're fit now."
She frowns. "Huh?"
He closes his eyes. "Today, I, Iroh, owner of the Jasmine Dragon, hereby declare you, Azula, resident of the Jasmine Dragon, to be a worker of the tea house, the Jasmine Dragon. I bid you luck in your new occupation."
"Uncle, you said Jasmine Dragon three times."
"Formalities," he says.
Azula just looks at him with a dazed face.
The night is hot. When Azula's eyes open, the memory of the war crashes down on her like an anchor. She pulls her blanket over her head, ignoring the heat. Anything to not think about it. Then she cries quietly. Her shoulders shake under the fabric. The darkness is all she sees.
The tears stop eventually. She curses herself, then reluctantly wipes her cheeks. Her hands are trembling, she realizes. Why are they trembling?
She tries to sleep. The memories flood back. The war is over, the war is over, the war is over. She repeats it again and again.
Finally, her mind wins out. Her hands go numb. Her awareness slips from the world.
Azula falls into a deep slumber.
They're outside in the front porch of the tea house, sitting in front of a pai-sho board. It's just them. The shop is closed for today. It's a special occasion; Iroh's one and only break day in the whole year, and so it is that he spends it on a pai-sho session with his niece.
He presses down the white lotus with a grin. "Good tact, but still, your impatience fails to let you win."
His belly shakes with laughter.
Azula, on the other hand, has a irritated frown, and grunts. She taps her fingers on the table. Her eyes dart from side to side, as if attempting to see if there are recoverable moves. There are none.
She wipes the pieces from the board and resets them back to the beginning.
"Again," she says.
"Gladly," says Iroh.
An hour later, he places down another white lotus tile. It's the same result. Azula's face is tightened, her lips pursed.
"Good game," is all he says.
"Again," she says, her voice stronger than ever, and resets the board.
He rubs his beard. "If that is what the princess wishes."
Thirty minutes pass. Iroh sets down the same death blow with a hearty smile. Azula can only look with a glare.
She scoffs. "Again."
Another match. He wins.
"Again."
Another win.
"Again."
They play til the sun sets. By the end of the day, Azula stomps away, smoke coming out of her nostrils.
Her head to head is 0-18.
In the morning, Iroh is making breakfast.
"Good morning," he says when he sees Azula.
She grunts in response. He figures she's still mad about the session yesterday. She sits by the table until the food is ready. The two eat in silence, Azula finishing first, and she washes her bowl in the sink.
Her hair falls down to her waist now. She looks like her mother, he thinks. Ursa... if she was here now...
He wonders. What would she think?
When evening comes, Azula walks to him, arms behind her back. Her face is red.
"Yes, Azula?"
"My hair is getting long," She says, twirling a lock. She looks away, averting his curious gaze. "I was wondering... well ... I was..."
She isn't one to stumble on words. Iroh creases his brow.
"I was wondering if you could ... cut my hair," she says, fidgeting with the cuff of her dress.
Iroh is confused for a second. Then he smiles. "Me? What an honor," he says cheerily.
"You do know how to cut hair, right?" She says.
He scrunches his beard. "First time's a charm."
"Agni..."
He sets up everything. In no time, she's in front of a mirror, Iroh behind. Scissors in hands, he snips the black threads.
When he's finished, her loose strands are free as snippets on the ground. He ties the remainder into a bun. He realizes. It looks just like her old hair.
"Does it please your eyes?" He says, holding the mirror closer to her.
She looks at it for a few seconds, then looks at him.
"Is this really your first time, Uncle?"
"I'll take the compliment."
At night, Azula sits down in one of the empty tables. She twirls a spoon around her cup of tea. It swirls like a ribbon of silk.
Iroh is making dinner in the kitchen. The soft, crackling fire is the only sound in the tea house. Darkness fills the windows outside.
A knock. Someone's at the door. Who was it at this hour?
"Azula, can you get that for me?" comes Iroh's voice.
"Hmm." She gets up and goes to the knob. She turns it, expecting to see a determined customer.
She sees the water boy. That water boy. He's smiling like an idiot.
"Do you need something?" Azula says, narrowing her eyes.
"Hey! Is Iroh here? I'm here on -- oh my goodness it's you." He blinks, each of them faster than the last. He palms his face. "So Zuko actually wasn't pranking me."
"Hey," she says.
They both stare at each other awkwardly. Crickets chirp in the background.