The tension on the ship grows as we continue to have no sight of Aang since the pirates. Despite our almost daily training bouts, Zuko still seems filled with a fury I cannot quite quell. It makes sense, though I don't speak this aloud, that we do not see him from our spot in the ocean. He is flying overland, stops erratic, traveling loosely north.
Aang intends to learn from the Northern Water Tribe, especially once I learn that there are no longer any waterbenders at the Southern Water Tribe. While I do not fully understand what happened at the Fire Nation Temple with Zuko, or what is really happening with Zuko, honestly, I know that we are loosely following rumors. Sightings. North. North. North.
Zuko is bent on capturing Aang.
Aang is bent on learning waterbending.
The morning sun basks my face, head turned toward the sun. Zuko and I are on a short break between training. He is only somewhat getting the hang of the circling technique. It is hard to pull the root of his teaching, of whatever tangled root is twisted around in his heart and soul, that firebending is superior to everything else.
Iroh agrees with me, but breaking habits is hard.
I think of the Northern Water Tribe, and my own, short visits there. I roamed while I was with everyone. I hadn't quite become a master yet, though I was given the opportunity to see the world. The beautiful world.
Everything there was built with snow and ice. Architecture taken seriously by those master waterbenders. The beauty of the people, of their relationships with one another and the coldness around them.
My visits were short, though my memory fond of them.
From the corner of my eye, I see Zuko peering through a spyglass. Iroh is smelling the heavy stormy air. They are speaking to each other, though I do not completely understand the topic.
Jee glares at Zuko, and Zuko storms off. Iroh approaches me, saying, "Do you smell the storm, Zia?"
I breathe in heavily, smiling, remembering some faint memory of ocean storms. "The smell is much stronger. There are no birds out, either. A storm is coming."
Nodding, Iroh says, "From the north. See. The edges are already here." He points northward.
"Is Zuko not changing direction?" We are headed straight for the storm. Zuko's stubbornness burns through him.
Iroh sighs, sitting next to me. Jee is still near the entrance to the tower, speaking with some soldiers. It is almost time for Zuko's firebending practice, though I don't know how that will do with the coming storm.
"I understand that Aang is important to Zuko, but I do not understand his stubbornness at putting everyone at risk like this. Some sea storms can get violent, especially as we move further north. The cold water could be deadly, even if you are a firebender."
"Zia," Iroh says, voice quiet, "Zuko is a very complicated young man. He is the way he is for a reason. Which is why we must all be patient with him." Slowly, he stands again, extending an arm out to me. I accept it, standing.
"What happened? Why is he like this?"
Sadness flicks across Iroh's face before Zuko returns to the deck. Loudly, so Iroh and I can hear, Lieutenant Jee says, "Looks like your uncle was right about the storm after all." He crosses his arms, face smug despite the fury that must reside within both Jee and Zuko.
"Lucky guess," Iroh says, coming up behind Zuko. I follow, standing behind him. The tension in the air, not only from the approaching storm, but from the two firebenders, is palpable.
Zuko spins around aggressively, facing Jee. "Lieutenant! You'd better learn some respect, or I will teach it to you." He thrusts his fingers at Jee's chest, pointing with his words. After speaking, Zuko begins to walk toward me. Oh, more training so soon.
However, Jee does not give up. "What do you know about respect?" I see Iroh stiffen, and the heat rises. "The way you talk to everyone around here, from your hard-working crew to your esteemed uncle to a patient Air Nomad, shows you know nothing about respect!" Zuko is still, hands clenched. I swallow hard. "You don't care about anyone but yourself! Then again, what should I expect from a spoiled prince?"
Jee has crossed a line, though he did so way before the spoiled line. Whipping around to face Jee, Zuko extends his right arm. He is ready to fight. I step forward, though Iroh holds me back with an arm.
"Easy now," Iroh starts. The two rush forward, smoke rising from Zuko's fist as they clash together. Iroh pulls them apart, though the rage is still on Zuko's face. "Enough! We're all a bit tired from being at sea so long. I'm sure after a bowl of noodles, everyone will feel much better."
Jee leaves, the door slamming shut behind him. The soldiers cautiously follow. Iroh is not done. Zuko has turned away, facing the storm. Iroh approaches the prince, but pauses as Zuko shouts, "I don't need your help keeping order on my ship." His uncle extends an arm, trying to comfort Zuko, but Zuko shrugs it away. Zuko moves to the prow of the ship to watch the storm approach.
Iroh sighs, sadness returning to him, as he makes his way inside. "Zia, come."
"I think I might stay for a little while."
"Please be careful. The storm is approaching quickly."
I nod absently. I don't know why I didn't leave Zuko alone, though the very thought of leaving Zuko to stew in his own anger, alone, seems unwise. Iroh may not know how to comfort him, but disappearing seems wrong. After the door has been closed for a few, heavy minutes, I approach Zuko.
The silence is still heavy. He leans against the railing, eyes on some faraway point in the storm.
"Do you want to fight it out?" I ask. He doesn't move. "I won't hold back. And you can bend. I saw the smoke earlier." After a moment, "It might help. But if not, I'll go inside, Zuko."
I wait, knowing patience is key here. Zuko needs it. I have it. Infinite patience.
He turns. His eyes are fiery, hands clenched. He nods. I return it, ready for whatever it is that he wants to throw at me.
When he extends his fist, there is already smoke there. I am playing a dangerous game.
Fire and aggression.
Great match.
I will be feeding one, but hopefully his aggression will leave when his anger dissipates. Used up after a few punches. I can circle that long.
Zuko moves first. Bending in a circle starting from the bottom and moving up vertically. I move to the left, dancing with the angry wind of the storm and Zuko's own anger. I will let him punch me. But no fire.
No fire.
I push close to him, intending to jab him in the side and retreat, but he surprises me by following me, pushing close while I try retreating. He punches me straight to the chest. I stumble back, shocked, genuinely, until I see the look in Zuko's eye.
There is pure hatred there. And I don't think it's toward me, or Jee, or Aang, or anyone on this boat, really.
Zuko looks close to shouting at me, but I recover from the punch quickly. In a flurry, Zuko follows me around my circle, punching bursts of fire at me. I slip narrowly under one, feeling the heat on the edges of my hair.
In Zuko's anger, there is a weakness. He will run out of steam, and quickly. He will focus on one thing only, and not perceive what he needs to see. But what does he need to see?
The truth?
I don't know the truth, not whatever he is looking for.
Zuko presses his advantage with me, keeping me toward the edge of the boat, almost touching the rail. Edge of the boat equals game over. There would be nowhere else to go except overboard. However, weeks of training with him, lazily on my part, has given him the perception to know that there is almost nowhere for me to go.
The storm is quickly approaching. With the rain and with Zuko.
But Zuko is more dangerous than some rain and lightning. Than cold water. Than dying.
Caught up in my own thoughts of Zuko, he sees my hesitation and presses me against the edge of the ship. My back is stabbed by the sharp edge of the metal. He is too close. I try to punch him close range, but he grabs my wrist, pressing one against the metal. My non-dominant hand tries to jab him sharply in the ribs, but he grabs that too.
Spirits.
The rage is hot in his eyes and in his body, steaming the few raindrops that begin to fall. Fear encompasses my heart, worried that I may accidentally, or purposefully, fall overboard.
"Zuko. Zuko, it's okay," I whisper. He shakes his head, but the hatred is retreating. Not quickly enough.
His hands are hot against my wrists, though I do not fight or push against Zuko's body pressed against mine. It is likely that if I did, I would worsen the situation.
"No. No, it isn't." Even whispering, he is loud. Forceful. "You don't understand. You can't understand."
"Then make me. Make me understand. Show me how to understand." He moves his right hand away from my wrist, though I don't move to use it. He presses it against my face, against my eye. He does not press hard, and the hotness in his hand is not there.
Zuko is being careful, gentle. But the meaning is there. Someone did this to him.
"Who?" I choke. From my half vision, I see him shake his head again.
"You wouldn't understand, Zia. You don't have parents. You don't understand what I would do."
"You wouldn't do it to me, Zuko. Even now. You have no heat in your hand, Zuko. You wouldn't burn me for your parents, would you?" Lightning flashes behind us, a mile or so away. There is hesitation in the part of his face that I can see. The fear grabs my heart and squeezes, but it disappears quickly.
Dropping his hand, he turns away. "Zia, you wouldn't understand."
A stone forms in my throat, and I watch Zuko return inside. I follow, though not directly after, and head to where dinner is likely ready. I am not hungry, but being alone after Zuko's fight seems just as wrong as leaving him alone.
Unaware if my actions with Zuko helped or hurt the situation, I mull over who could press their hand to Zuko's face, effectively blinding him in one eye for ages. The sadness swells in my heart, as I listen closely to the door, where Iroh sits with the other crew members.