Guest comment - you did not misremember! I changed some things from the original, but really didn't want to follow the plot of them being good friends. Zia knows of Aang - he's the youngest to earn his tattoos! - but does not know him closely.

We stop in a crowded market port just after sunset. Iroh invites me outside for a nice dinner, knowing that Zuko will not return to us beforehand. One of the crew members heads toward a shop boasting of ship repairs, while the rest start cleaning up the mess of whatever warfare they were part of.

Most of the market stalls are closed, though some are still chatting with patrons, some waft a nice smell of street food. My stomach makes a loud noise, and Iroh grabs my arm in his and smiles widely. I lean over to him, sharing in his smile. Sure, there is a sadness deep within this man, but he fights against it in the same way that the monks used to. The past has already happened, and there is nothing we can do to change it. The only thing we can do is look toward the future, and work towards a better life. Not hoping. But acting on our wishes.

Near the end of the dock is a large ship made mostly of wood. The gangway is pulled up, though the boat is moored securely to the dock, shifting with the waves that lap against the sides. The sails are red and flared out, as if ready to spirit away in the dead of the night. Hearty chatter filters down to us, and Iroh says, "I imagine they will be open in the morning, though Prince Zuko likely wants to leave as soon as repairs are done on the ship. So sad. My nephew never has time for the joys in life, like shopping."

I don't typically share in these joys either, but I don't share that information with Iroh. I nod, and am steered toward a small restaurant down a side street. Inside, the lighting is dim, though the Pai Sho tables stand out amongst the regular tables. I've never been good at Pai Sho, and I inwardly groan.

Iroh sits down and pulls two bags of tiles out from his sleeves. He hands me one, and I finger the velvet bag tenderly, aware of the disappointment I am about to share with this man. Iroh spreads his tiles out in a thought through manner, as if this game is second nature to him. Briefly, I question his history, as I am aware of his direct blood relation to the cause of my pain. However, instead, I sit down and say, "Iroh, I am not very good at Pai Sho."

He waves me off, while also flagging down an employee for some tea. I had hoped for more than finger foods, but it seems that it will be light snacks and tea for dinner.

"It is lucky for you that I am a very good Pai Sho teacher. Zuko never has the patience for the game, though there are different play styles for each person." To the employee, "Can we get a pot of ginseng and two cups, please? Thank you.

"Pull some of your tiles out. There are so many different ways to play too. I don't think we'll actually play a real game tonight, Zia, as there seems to be something tense in the air. Didn't you feel it, earlier, like something had drifted, briefly, from the Spirit World to here?"

I shake my head. Truly, I have not felt a connection with the Spirit World or my own chakras for weeks now. No longer is there a phantom limb, but I still long for it, especially earlier, wrecking Zuko's room.

"No bother. I understand that your connection to your bending has been severed, but not completely gone."

I gaze down at the handful of tiles I pulled out, each with a different design. A few different flowers, a badgermole, a dragon, a lotus. Their colors vary, and the set seems well used. Picking up a sky bison tile, I rub my fingers over the white paint. It chips a little underneath my nail, and I am lost, again, in the sky, with Kala, my sky bison. An ache forms and breaks deep within me. I miss her. I know the past is beyond me, but part of me yearns for it. For a person I can no longer be.

I stand, tile still in hand. The employee yelps at my sudden movement, and I bow at both him and Iroh. "I didn't mean to startle you. I'm sorry, Iroh. I cannot do this." There is too much pain in the movements, in the memory of the large Pai Sho table at the Western Temple. At the feeling of Kala's fur beneath my palms. At the drifting petals of flowers. I swallow the lump in my throat. "I know the way back to the ship, so I don't need to be escorted. Thank you. I'm sorry."

I rush out, not bothering to wait for a response or drop the tile. The night is chilly, and a stark relief from the rush of heat I felt at the Pai Sho table. I walk away from the door, just in case Iroh wishes to follow my quick departure.

Down the same street that I took to get here, I pause to lean my head against the stone wall, taking a steadying breath. The pain in my chest lessens, and I rub my fingers across the surface of the engraved tile. I hope he doesn't want it back. Because I don't want to give it back to him.

Again, I am not fond of Pai Sho. But I am fond of the people that played the game, day in and out, each with a different style of playing, of different etchings of the same figures. A sky bison, the koi fish of Yin and Yang - push and pull - give and take -, a dragon, the flowers. These memories dredge up to the surface, and I push hard to keep them down, to keep them from swelling above my head and drowning me.

"You shouldn't be out on a full moon night like this," a sly voice says, jolting me away from the wall. Three men stand a short ways from the boat with the red sails, arms crossed and in different states of drunkenness. The voice that spoke, a tall, lanky man, is jostled by a rounder man with incredibly greasy hair. All three of them share the same, thin mustache.

"Oh's right," Greasy Man says. "Full moon makes everyone crazy."

The third man, who is not wearing a shirt and has a scar near one of his nipples, adds on, "Just a few months ago, we heard tale that a full Northern Water Tribe village went crazy."

"Might be because they went a little further south than north and we met up with 'em," Greasy Man cuts in.

Oh, the skinniest of the bunch, stands with his arms crossed, assessing me. I tuck the tile into my pocket, body tensing as if ready to fight. The ache within my chest eases a little, or is overrun by adrenaline and my fight instinct kicking in.

"Full moon doesn't make me crazy," I said, breaking through their drunken laughs. "But people that interject onto a nice, thoughtful stroll do." I try to sound more intimidating than I really am. I hope they didn't witness my bursting out of the restaurant and the scene around that. I take a step forward, hoping my stern distaste for them would make itself palpable.

It doesn't. None of them move.

It does help that none of them appear to be armed. The gangway is down now, and I think these are red sail's crew. Greasy and gross. Great crew, though my expectations of boat crews ends here and begins about three boats down the dock.

Preparing myself for a fight, or something close to that, Scar Nipple steps forward. He's the tallest of the three, but not doing a lot in the sobriety department. He stumbles over his own feet, and Greasy Hair grabs his arm stiffly, steadying his friend. Oh, the lanky guy, leader of this ragtag crew, says, "We don't want any trouble from you. Just whatever you got on you, and then we'll probably play nice."

"In the middle of the main market street?" I ask, waving a hand at our surroundings. "Bad place."

"Not here. There." He points to Red Sails, and a bird noise sounds as a lookout. All three of them curse under their breath and look angrily down the street. A high ponytail and shoulder pads make their way down the street. Probably the only time in my life that I am happy to see him, but Zuko eases the fight from my feet.

"You are not supposed to leave the ship!" he shouts at me, ignoring whatever conversation he thinks I was having with the pirates. He comes up to me, anger rolling off him in hot waves.

"Good evening to you, too, Zuko," I say, smiling at him. He falters, briefly, but roughly grabs my arm. His grip isn't painful, but tight enough to show his anger. At me? Or at whatever interaction he just had with Aang? Probably both.

"It has been a long day, and I am having none of this." He pulls me forward, and his hand on my arm radiates his heat. I keep my own anger in check, remembering the thought that Zuko is not an evil person.

"And here I was about to thank you for saving me the duty of fighting off three drunken pirates. But it's all long day Zuko and not long day Zia."

"Last I checked, long day Zia broke into my room and went through my things. If I had known you were about to fight three pirates, I would have sat on the sidelines and watched."

"Ah, just like your Agni Kai. Fighting exercises. We both do enough of that."

His grip lessens, but not enough to disappear completely. We are close to our ship, and I can see the bright lanterns of workers fixing whatever damage happened while I was locked in my room. We stop, just at the edge of the light, and Zuko is staring off into the moon, as if she holds his answers.

In the silence, I take a steeling breath and say, "I'll help you. With training. But you have to listen. And you can't keep locking me in my room."

"You're a prisoner."

"You just saw me, alone, not on your ship. Am I a prisoner? Because your uncle didn't get that message once you told him I was his problem."

Zuko sighs, and he lets his hand drop. The hand dropping is a compromise. We are compromising.

Good for us.

One step at a time.

"You can't go through my things. You can't be alone while not on the ship. You will teach me everything that will be helpful with capturing the Avatar. Techniques. Movements. Attacks. Everything."

"That'll be two people who know a lot about airbending, with no tattoos, and no ability to airbend. We should start a group." Zuko glares at my comment, though there is a glimmer of happiness in his eyes. In the flames of his eyes and hatred, there is something good within him. And I plan to expose that for him to see for himself.