The next day, Zuko didn't show up for the final lesson. Instead, he stood in the center of his room, practicing bending forms that were definitely not related to airbending in any way. He didn't actually bend, of course, because he was inside and he wasn't interested in burning his bedsheets.
But he focused on the way energy flowed through his body with each movement he made. He paid attention to the feeling of his own body moving, intentionally blocking out the feeling of his surroundings, of the air around him.
It was hard. After yesterday's success in the maze, it was like he had unlocked a different level of awareness. He had to force himself not to notice the way the air currents subtly shifted as he moved.
This new awareness scared him, because he knew what it meant. He didn't want to admit it, but it was why he hadn't gone to Aang's final lesson. If he really was just a firebender, he shouldn't have been able to get to this point at all. He shouldn't have been able to sense the air so acutely.
He still wanted to deny, wanted to believe that he wasn't an airbender, and as long as he had not yet intentionally bent the air, he could hold onto that. Even though, deep down, he knew it was a lie. It was a lie he needed to believe.
He could see the connection now, though. Why air came after fire in the cycle. In many ways, this new awareness wasn't so different from how firebending felt. A firebender focused on the flow of their internal energy, using their breath to create fire.
For an airbender, it was the same, but external. Instead of focusing on the energy inside their own bodies, they attuned to the energy outside, the air that bounced against their skin, and they used that.
He forced himself to turn away from that line of thinking, trying to return his focus to his firebending forms.
"I can't believe you skipped out on me," a voice said from behind him. Aang's voice. Of course.
Zuko barely kept himself from jumping. "I got tired of your silly games," he said, keeping his voice as flat as he could. He did not turn to look at Aang.
"You're the one who suggested three lessons," Aang said, walking around so he was in front of Zuko, his arms crossed. Zuko turned away and transitioned to another form.
"Besides," Aang continued, "I don't think that's the reason at all. I think you skipped because you knew you were making progress, and you were scared you might actually bend during the last lesson."
Zuko winced. "That's crazy. I can't be scared of something that's impossible."
"Oh, you're not scared?" Aang said. "That's good, because when you didn't show up to class, I decided to bring the class to you instead."
Zuko finally looked over at him. "And if I say no?"
"I'll keep pestering you until you agree, just like I did last time."
Zuko sighed, finally coming up out of his stance and turning to face Aang. "Fine."
Aang studied his face skeptically. "You have to promise me that you'll actually try. No holding back. If you feel something working, you'll let it happen. Okay?"
"I… promise."
"Good! Now get back into your stance."
"Into my... firebending stance?"
Aang shrugged. "Sure."
Bewildered, Zuko did. "Okay, but why?"
"I'm starting you with a move that I think will be really easy for you, because it's basically what you do already in firebending. It's called an air punch."
Zuko frowned.
"It's pretty much exactly what you'd think," Aang said, falling into a stance next to Zuko. It was similar to Zuko's, but looser, lighter. He held his arms in front of him, but his hands were open, not balled into fists or held rigidly upright. "You just punch and bend a focused blast of air away from your fist. Like this."
He curled one hand into a fist and thrust it straight out. The air around his fist responded in kind, shooting forward in a concentrated stream and flattening the Fire Nation tapestry against the wall above Zuko's bed with a whoom!
"You can also use both hands," Aang explained, "or a flat palm instead of a fist, but for now let's just go with the fist."
Zuko drew his fist back, preparing to punch the air, but Aang said, "Breathe first. Focus on the feeling of the air around you. Remember, it's not about controlling it, it's about—"
"Moving with it," Zuko grumbled. "Yeah, yeah, I know."
He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath in, reluctantly letting that heightened awareness he'd been suppressing resurface. He could feel the way the air shifted in the room, could sense the vestiges of Aang's air punch as it reverberated around the space.
The air was never still, Zuko now knew, even when there was no obvious breeze. It was always moving and always wanted to move. All it needed was a little nudge and it would gladly go anywhere you directed it. An airbender's job wasn't to force the air to move, but to help it do what it already wanted to do.
As he breathed out, he opened his eyes—but his concentration shattered when his gaze landed on the Fire Nation tapestry. If this worked, his life was over. He would be a traitor to his family, to his entire country. He would be a wanted criminal, the Fire Nation's number one enemy, never able to redeem himself no matter what he did. He would be...alone.
After three years—no, sixteen years—of wanting nothing but to gain his father's love and approval, could he handle being denied it forever?
"Zuko?" Aang's voice knocked him out of his reverie. He sounded concerned. "Are you okay?"
"I…" Zuko shook his head. "I'm fine. Just… give me a second."
For better or worse, he had no choice but to try. He took another deep breath, finding that sensation of the air again, that feeling that he was one part of the whole. Not controlling, just nudging. Just channeling and directing.
His fist moved forward, pointed directly at the tapestry Aang had targeted. It was a familiar motion, one he'd performed thousands of times. This time, though, fire did not spring from his outstretched arm. Zuko watched, feeling like a stranger in his own body, as a pulse of air burst away from his fist. He felt it more than he saw it, really. It was as fast as Aang's had been, but to him it seemed to move in slow motion, hitting the tapestry and sending it fluttering down into a red and black heap on the bed.
For several seconds, Zuko stood frozen in that position, his eyes fixed on the tapestry. It seemed almost poetic, that his first fully intentional act of airbending was knocking down his nation's symbol.
After all, he was no longer truly Fire Nation now, was he?
Time snapped back into motion as Aang leaped into the air, spinning in a circle, and cried out, "You did it! See, I told you it'd be easy for you!" Zuko didn't need to look at his face to know he was grinning from ear to ear.
Zuko felt nothing but sinking despair. "Yeah," he mumbled, letting his hands fall to his side and rising up out of his stance. "It was."
"This is great, Zuko!" Aang said. Then, in a tone of awe,"You know what this means?"
That I'm a disgrace of a son? Zuko thought. That I'm a failure?
"I'm not alone anymore," Aang whispered.
Zuko started, whipping his head around to stare at Aang. That was not what he'd been expecting. To his surprise, Aang's gray eyes were a little misty, like he was on the verge of tears. He wiped at them and smiled sadly at Zuko.
"Sorry," he said. "It's just… I've spent my whole life thinking I was the last, and that I wouldn't meet another airbender until I had children someday, maybe not even then. It's...nice to know there's someone else out there who's like me, at least a little bit."
Zuko blinked at Aang, feeling a sudden, crushing guilt fall heavily onto his shoulders. Here he was, feeling sorry for himself, wishing he was anything but the Avatar, thinking about how horrible this was for him. He hadn't even considered Aang's feelings, hadn't felt anything but annoyance at Aang's persistent nagging and even begging him to try to learn airbending.
Aang hadn't done any of it because he'd wanted to annoy Zuko, or ruin his life. He'd done it because he wanted...kinship. To find someone like him, even if it wasn't exactly the same. He'd wanted to not be alone.
If Zuko could understand anything, it was that.
Aang shook his head and seemed to hop right back into his happy persona almost as quickly as he'd left it. But Zuko could still see the deeper emotion, there behind his eyes. The light of hope.
It condemned him, making him feel guilty for what he knew he had to do next.
"Anyway," Aang said, "I can't wait to get started on the real lessons now. There are so many other amazing moves you can still learn. What time do you want to start tomorrow? We can—"
"There's not going to be a lesson tomorrow, Aang," Zuko said, steeling himself for the disappointment he knew would come.
And there it was. Aang's face fell. "What? I mean, I know you said you only wanted to do three lessons, but I figured since you know for sure you're an airbender now, you'd want to continue."
Zuko couldn't quite bring himself to meet Aang's eyes. "I do," he lied. "But we can't keep meeting every day. Three days wasn't too bad, but eventually my crew will notice me disappearing every day for an hour or two. Plus, we can't stay docked here. The ship will have to move on eventually."
"Oh. Right."
"We should cut it down to once a week," Zuko suggested. "One week, I'll go to you, the next, you'll come to me. A different day and time each week, so it doesn't get predictable. That shouldn't be too suspicious."
"Right!" Aang said, seeming mollified. "That sounds like fun."
"Let's start a week from today, then," Zuko said. "Late at night. I'll meet you."
Aang nodded. He turned as if to leave.
"And don't try to come see me when it's not time yet," Zuko hissed. "We can't risk you being seen."
"You know I'm very good at staying hidden."
"Just don't come until you're supposed to, okay?"
Aang shrugged. "Fine. See ya next week." And he left through the window.
Zuko stared out the window long after he couldn't see him anymore. Then he shook himself and got to work.
That night, after dinner (he actually went to dinner, to his uncle's great delight), Zuko lay in his bed, wide awake, until he was certain everyone was asleep.
When the ship was still and silent, he slid out of bed, grabbed the bag of supplies he'd prepared earlier as well as his dual blades in their sheath, and snuck off the ship onto the quiet port of a mainland Earth Kingdom village. He wasn't even leaving a note, not wanting to risk giving his uncle any hints of where he was headed.
At the edge of the pier, though, he knelt and, bowing his head, used his small knife to cut off his topknot. He held the lock of hair in his hand for a second, then released it, letting it fall into the ocean and be swept away.
He watched it until it disappeared from view. "I'm sorry, Uncle," he whispered, glancing back at the ship. Then he walked away.
The next night, Iroh sat silently on Zuko's empty bed in the dark. Earlier this evening, he'd made certain all of the crew members were gone, and then closed up the ship so that they wouldn't be able to get back on. What came next would be dangerous, and it was better that they not be involved. Now he sat, his hands folded calmly in his lap, waiting until he heard the telltale squeal as the window opened.
"I know you said you didn't want me to come back until we needed to meet and all," Aang said, landing on near-silent feet on the metal floor. "But I just wanted to prove to you that I can—" He cut off as Iroh turned his palm up and ignited a small flame in it, letting it illuminate his face. Aang stumbled backward.
"You're not Zuko," he said.
"No," Iroh agreed. Aang started to jump back out the window, but paused when Iroh said, "But Zuko needs your help."
Aang turned back around, an uncertain look in his eyes. Iroh willed his fire to get brighter so that it lit up the rest of the room.
"What do you mean?" Aang asked.
"Last night after you left, Zuko ran away," Iroh said gravely. He could tell many parts of that sentence surprised Aang—but of course, he couldn't have known that Iroh had been right outside Zuko's door when Aang arrived for their final airbending session yesterday. He'd been about to knock on the door and probably ruin everything when he'd heard Aang's voice from inside and paused to listen. And he had learned what he'd already been suspecting.
"What? Why?"
"I think that he is planning on turning himself in. To his father." In fact, Iroh was certain of it. Zuko hadn't left a note, but he hadn't needed to. Iroh knew his nephew well, and in light of his recent discovery, there would have been only one option in Zuko's mind. Iroh just hadn't realized how quickly he would act. He had gone to Zuko's room that very night to try to talk him out of it, but by the time he got there, Zuko was already gone.
"Is he crazy?" Aang said. "He can't do that! He'll die! You just let him leave?"
"I didn't let him do anything," Iroh said. "He was already gone before I could try to stop him."
"Well, we need to stop him now!"
"That's why I'm asking for your help," Iroh said. "I'll need to leave the ship and the crew behind. I can't reveal what's happened to them, and your bison can move much faster than the ship could ever hope to. I need you to help me look for my nephew."
"Of course!" Aang said. "Let's go!"
"Give me just a moment," Iroh said, standing. First, he went to the window of Zuko's cabin and looked out over the glittering lights of fires in the homes far from the docks. He said a silent, regretful goodbye to the crew (and especially the cook), who were all staying in town tonight at his insistence. Then he went to the closed door of Zuko's cabin, lit the string that stuck out underneath it, and walked over to Aang, who carried him off the ship.
They were plenty far away by the time the explosion ripped the ship apart.
