"We're not going to be in the same class anymore," Azula says quietly, cutting through the void of silence that had filled them.
It's the awkward kind of silence. Not the one he usually has with Azula. Today he did.
"Yeah," Zuko says. He'd accepted it when he'd heard it. It wasn't much of a surprise, more just ... well, something. He doesn't really know.
He hadn't made it to the advanced firebending class.
Which means, he wasn't going to be with Azula anymore.
Zuko hears Azula cradles her knees next to him.
The wind brushes their ears like a soft kiss. The leaves rustle above, some falling and blowing with the wind too. It is a warm day, a sunny day. But it's cold too.
They sit in a hill that overlooks the city, just outside the palace. It's beautiful. Birds chirp beautiful songs that no one can write down, grass flutters like a butterfly, the smell of tulips. Zuko breathes in and closes his eyes.
Something hits his face. "Ow!" He falls onto the grass face first, swallowing a load of green leaves that get stuck in his throat. He coughs. He chokes it out. He rolls back.
"Idiot!" The red face of Azula is scowling right at him. She's a few inches away from him. Her fist is raised out, and she is breathing heavily. Her noses flare out smoke.
"Azula! What the-"
"You idiot!" She says. She punches him again, but this time he narrowly dodges with a roll. He gets up, the grass falling of his knees.
"What in Agni? What was that for?" He says, touching his numb cheek.
"I hate this!" She yells.
"Hate what?"
"You just acting like you don't care!" She yells, getting up as well. "Are you that stupid?"
He slaps his lap. "Where is this coming from?"
"Did you not hear what the teacher said? Did it not make it into your dumb skull yet? You didn't make it to the advanced classes."
"Okay, and-?" Zuko says. Did she really need to punch him for that?
"You should be ashamed of yourself! You couldn't even make it there, as the first-born of the Fire Lord!" She purses her lips, getting redder. "So why are you so carefree?"
"Because I don't care, really, 'Zula," he says. "If I'm not at that level yet, then why should I be in that class?"
"Is that your excuse?"
"No, but I'm trying my best-"
"Trying your best?" She laughs acidly. "Don't make me laugh!"
"I was-"
That's right, you have no talent, no skill!"
"Azula..."
"-I was always better than you!"
"Azula..."
"-You suck! Everything about you sucks!"
"Azula!"
"-And now I-I'm going to be alone with Father!" At that moment, her eyes are wide, her hair is tangled from the wind. She looks at him, then steps back with a slightly wide mouth, almost as if she'd shocked herself with what she said.
All Zuko does is stare at Azula. He clenches his fist and unclenches it. The pain from his cheek numbs. Father. Zuko doesn't like to think about Father. But he'd never known Azula to be scared of Father as well.
He looks at the ground; the grass is disheveled from their fight.
"Look what we did," he says. He crouches down, trying to fix it. The wind bows it. He smiles bitterly, then looks back at her. "Sorry, 'Zula."
There is no response.
Zuko scrunches his nose. "You're right. I guess I didn't try hard enough. But I promise you, I'll make it there, alright?"
Silence. Then Azula's eyes fixate on him. "Swear it."
"Huh?" It catches him by surprise. "Like formally?"
She nods.
"O-okay." He clears his throat. "I, Zuko, son of Fire Lord Ozai and Lady Ursa, prince of the Fire Nation, swear that I will make it to the advanced fire-bending class, to join my crazy sister, no matter what." He puffs up his chest. "There. Good enough for you?"
"That was a terrible vow," Azula says, wiping her eyes. "The structure was completely wrong, and-"
"Okay! We don't need to analyze it," Zuko says with a pout. He turns around, sighing. "The sun is setting. We should get back before Mother says anything."
He steps forward. Azula grabs his hand tightly. "You better be right."
Their feet tap under the palace. Azula's fast. Even faster when she's excited. She's holding his arm, leading deeper and deeper into the secret passageways.
Zuko's never been in the passageways more than a few times and he doesn't want to. His body shivers in the cold.
"Where are you leading me?" He says.
"Shh," she says with a small smile.
They run and run. Eventually, a staircase. Making their way up, Zuko winces as a light blinds him.
Azula pauses, looks at him, and tugs his arm. They continue.
It's a garden. An abandoned one at that. The fountain no longer runs. The grass is wilted. Yet, the flowers are still bright. Someone had been watering them.
The moon shines on them as she leads him to the center. Zuko can see the palace behind them. They were outside?
"'Zula..." A flower lays between them. He crouches down.
"Don't touch any of the flowers, or I'll zap you," she says.
He sighs. "Right."
"It's my garden," Azula says, and nothing more. Her eyes are glowering, like if she's scared he will ruin it.
"It's a nice garden."
Azula had many hiding spots, but this seemed to be the most precious. He would never ruin anything she deemed precious.
"I'll train you here," she says, her eyes dancing like a fire. "I'll make you a master of firebending."
Zuko trains in the afternoon, and at night in the time when Azula is free. With her attending personal lessons with Father now, Zuko and Azula rarely spend any time together.
But in the time that they do spend together, it's when she tutors him at night. They firebend in the secluded garden, where nothing makes a sound except their breathing, grunts, and laughter.
Father can't know about it. Azula makes that very clear when she grabs his shirt and lectures him on being careless, her eyes dancing dangerously, staring into the depths of his soul. She repeats again. Father can never know about it.
Zuko punches, unleashing a burst of fire. For a brief second - it brightens the entire garden. Then it disappears, and leaves the cold blue night to envelop the garden again.
Azula is watching from a corner, her arms crossed. "Better."
Better!
"But still terrible."
"What? That felt good though," Zuko says.
"Your footwork was terrible. Keep your feet planted on the ground, not up like some wobbling skeleton." She tilts her head, as if thinking. "And also, that shot had no power in it. Ground your shots."
He sighs. "Again, come on."
He moves into the kata. It's a basic one: a bolt of fire, with feet planted on the ground, and harnessing chi from the knees.
Atleast, in theory. He throws a bolt of fire.
Azula frowns. "Better than before. Still terrible."
He runs it again. The fire illuminates the garden in a flash.
Azula shakes her head. "Breathe correctly, dum-dum."
He blinks. He hadn't even noticed. He'd been inhaling sharply through his mouth. "Thanks," he says, smiling at her.
She rolls her eyes.
He does the kata. She criticizes. They repeat many times. The night gets darker and darker.
They do this every night. Even when Zuko doesn't want to, even when he's tired. All it takes is a glare from Azula, and he follows her into the passageways and into the garden.
Firebending is an art not many people can rush.
"But you can," Azula says, looking at him intensely. "I know you can."
As she holds his hand, putting it in the right place, and lectures him on and on, he can't help but smile.
Azula lies a lot. But this one, in the center of his heart, he knew was sincere.
At the end of practice, Zuko wants to fall into a bed. His body aches, and his legs grow weak.
At last, when Zuko is out of breath, Azula yawns.
"I'm tired," she says quite matter-of-factly. "I'm leaving."
She turns around and walks.
She walks right into a dark sihoullete. It's Mother.
"M-mother?" Zuko and Azula both say at the same time. "What're you doing here?"
Their mother is smiling, her eyes glimmering. She pinches Azula's cheek. "I should be asking you two the same. What were you two doing?"
Zuko looks at Azula, who is looking quite flustered at getting her cheek pinched. "Nothing," Azula answers with a false smile.
Mother raises her brow, then laughs. Really laugh. In a way he had only really seen when she was really happy.
"Now, answer our question," Azula says.
"This is my garden," their mother says, her golden eyes falling onto the flowers. She cradles a pedal.
"Your garden?" Zuko says. That meant ... so Mother was the person that was watering the flowers.
"I found it while going through the Palace's secret passageways," Mother says. She walks to Zuko, and then holds both of the Fire Nation siblings by their hands. Mother walks him and Azula over to the fountain that doesn't run. "It's quite ruined isn't it?" There's a hint of sadness.
"Yeah. But it still looks beautiful," Zuko says.
"Isn't it?" Mother smiles, petting both of their heads.
"Mother, can you not," Azula says, trying to pry her hand away. Eventually though, she gives up.
A silence lays among the three. They stand, cuddled against each other, and looking at the remains of a garden, all the while the moonlight reflect off their eyes. It's ridiculous. It's stupid. But it's also so comforting.
Zuko lays his head against Mother's waist.
"You know, when I found this place, the flowers were dead," says Mother.
For the first time, Zuko actually sees Azula freeze.
"I didn't know you liked flowers, Azula," Mother says, tugging at Azula's hand. "It was you that watered them, was it?"
Azula frowns, then shakes her head, looking at the ground. "No."
That's a lie. And it's pretty obvious too.
Weeks pass.
"Where's your sister?" Mother says one day to Zuko. Her face is contorted so he can see all her stress lines. "It's almost dinner time."
"I thought she had training with Father today," Zuko says. Father was really ramping it up. This was the second week in a row where Azula couldn't make time to tutor him.
"They ended early today. Apparently something happened. I've been trying to find her all day." Mother whispers something he can't understand, then breathes out sharply. She pats Zuko's head. "You know her better than me. Can I count on you to find her?"
To be honest, he really didn't know. But he never liked disappointing Mother. He nods.
"Good. I need to have a talk with your Father." With that, she hurries out of the room.
Zuko searches through every room, corridor, hallway. Every hiding place Azula likes. All until he is left with only one thought: the garden. He grimaces.
He has never liked going through the secret passageways alone. Whenever he did, it was always with Azula.
With a deep breath, he opens his palm, and a flame emerges. He walks into the passageway.
The garden is quiet. It looks the same as it did two weeks ago, but he notices the flowers are duller in color. Azula hadn't had the time to water them.
He looks. A silhouette. In the middle of the small stairs, is Azula. But it doesn't look like Azula. Her back is slouched, head lowered, and he knows for a fact that she never likes sitting on the ground.
"'Zula!" He says, running to her.
She stays still. "Get away," he hears her mumble.
He continues walking. "Mother has bee-"
"Get away!" She yells.
He frowns, but it doesn't deter him. It never has. He runs next to her and sits down. Her body is shaking. Azula's hand is on her leg. And her leg is ...
His breath catches in his throat. Her leg is ripped open. Blood seeps down into the cement. It's a deep wound. A terrible one.
Azula moves her hand to cover the wound. She bites her lip, a tear coming from her eyes. "I'm fine! Leave me alone!"
"Are you crazy?" Zuko says. He grabs her arm. "You need treatment! How would you even hide something like that?"
"Shut up!" She yells. She tries to wrestle his hand away, but he doesn't let go. Her arm is trembling. Azula ...
"Does it hurt?" Zuko says.
"What do you think?" Azula spits at him.
"So it does hurt. So you're not fine." Zuko feels his anger boiling. It builds up his chest, like a volcano ready to explode. "Then why are just you sitting here by yourself? What happened? You need to care for yourself, 'Zula!"
"Why do you care so much?" She says. Her eyes are wet and red. Again, she wrestles with his hand. "Stop holding me!"
"Why do I care so much?" He says. "What kind of question is that?"
"Shut up!" She yells. She wipes her face with her other arm. Strands of hair fall on her face, a tangled mess he can't bear to look at. He clenches his fists until his nails bite into his palm. This isn't like her.
Zuko swallows. "Come on, get up."
He stands up, pulling her arm. She sits still. He nudges her arm. "Come on, 'Zula."
Nothing.
"Please?"
For a few seconds, nothing happens. It's just the moon, crickets, and them. Then Azula moves. She unbuckles her knees, standing up slowly, as if not to irritate her wound more.
"Put your arms around my neck," he says.
Her eyes are wet when she looks at him. Her arms wrap around his neck, and he lifts her up until she is on his shoulder.
He can feel Azula's breath on his back. He can feel her trembling arms. He can feel her hair locking with his as the wind blows.
Zuko starts walking, taking each step, slowly as to not unbalance himself. It's dizzying. She's heavy, not like he remembers.
But it's worth it.
So worth it.
Zuko hums a song as they go through the passageways. It echoes into the darkness. They'd been walking for some time, with nothing to separate them but their thoughts.
"Hey, Zuzu," Azula whispers down his ears. It's the first time she's spoken.
"Yes?"
She stuffs her face in his neck. "It stings."
"I know," he says softly.
"It hurts."
"I know."
"It hurts a lot."
"Just a little longer," he says.
"When are we going to arrive?"
"Almost." He feels her nod. They walk a little more. "'Zula, remember when we tried to trick Uncle by switching out his tea leaves?"
A pause.
"Yes," she answers.
"It was fun, wasn't it? We spent hours trying to find the right leaf. I remember you tasted one and nearly threw up."
"I did throw up," she says with a grunt.
"Oh. I guess that wasn't that funny."
Her voice is quiet. "And then you chickened out because you 'didn't want to be mean to Uncle.'"
"Correction: I didn't want him to drink that weird leaf you found on the ground and possibly die."
"No one dies from leaves, dum-dum," she says softly.
"Uncle could've been the first one." Zuko says, smiling.
"I'm sure the Dragon of the West can handle a leaf."
"I guess." He shrugs. "Oh, or what about when Uncle -"
His shoulder shakes from Azula. Azula's arms are gripping him tightly. Then he feels tears wetting his neck. She's crying. His eyes widen for a moment, but then he loosens. You're the older brother, he reminds himself.
He starts humming a song he doesn't quite remember the title of, but it's one Mother always sings whenever he or Azula are hurt. It's a lullaby, meant to sleep a baby. He hums it, letting it echo across the halls.
They walk in silence.
Zuko doesn't have the strength to ask why she's crying, and even if he did, something in the inner part of his mind tells him he doesn't want to.