Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Through it — 红绳

Preface

Two months after the war.

Katara was exhausted. Whether from the pressure of rebuilding the Southern Water Tribe in collaboration with the Northern brothers and Sokka, or because her father was being overly attentive with her, nothing changed the fact that she needed a rest.

She didn't think twice before sending letters to her friends — something she had been doing for some time. Aang was always the first to respond, always enthusiastic. Toph replied briefly and took longer to write back. She complained that the "staff," which Katara imagined to be police interpreters, didn't know how to capture her true emotions.

Zuko barely responded. If Katara had sent ten letters in recent months, he would reply to one or two. Of course, he was busy as the Fire Lord — but weren’t they all?

Toph, now training the new police force, teaches many how to bend metal.

Aang, pacifying conflict regions;

She and Sokka were doing what they could to keep the tribe afloat.

She set these thoughts aside. She simply wrote three almost identical letters and sent them as soon as she finished.

"Why do you sigh so much? I can't sleep."
"I'm not sighing."

Katara looked at her brother, who was comfortably lying on his bed.

"Really. It looks like you're trying to dust the table with your air. Forget that you bend water?"

The girl gave him a sour look.

"Shut up, Sokka. I'm sending letters to our friends. I think I’ll take a week off."

Sokka sighed.

"I thought we were going to work forever. Where are we going to meet?"
"It would be good to go to the Earth Kingdom."
"Yes! Let’s see Suki. It’ll be amazing."
"Correction: you’ll see Suki and leave us."

Sokka turned on his side in bed and was silent for a moment. The room they shared was simple, with dark wood walls, two beds on opposite sides of the room, and an open window letting in the salty smell of the sea.

Katara left her desk and lay down on her bed. The night was hot, humid, and they took a while to fall asleep.

"Do you think he’ll respond?" he asked, without looking at his sister.
"I don’t know."
"He’s been avoiding everyone since the coronation."
"I know."

Silence again. Only the sounds of the wind and the waves breaking in the distance.

"The crown weighs on him."
"What are you talking about?" Katara mocked.
"Maybe he's just overwhelmed... You understand."
"Maybe," said Katara, but doubt was in her voice.

Zuko wasn’t just busy. He was different. She knew him as an introverted person, but that behavior was strange.

She remembered the last time she saw him — not at ceremonies or political meetings, but as friends. He was no longer the same boy who turned his back on everything he knew to do the right thing. He seemed restless but refused to talk about it.

"Anyway, I’m going," she said suddenly with firmness.
"Going where?"
"To the Fire Nation."

Sokka sat up, alarmed.

"What? I thought you said the Earth Kingdom!"
"I changed my mind."

He looked at her as if she had just said she was going to swim there.

"You know we have to notify Aang and Toph, right?"
"We'll tell them tomorrow before we leave."
"Katara..."
"I just want to see with my own eyes. I want to understand why he disappeared."

Sokka opened his mouth to reply, but closed it again. He knew his sister. When Katara made a decision, it was no use trying to change her.

"You’re crazy."
"Possibly."
"Fine. But I’m going with you. It’ll be cool to visit the Fire Nation as a guest of honor and not as a wanted fugitive... But what if they still hate us? And what if they try to sacrifice us?"
"You worry too much. Remember, you’re traveling with a waterbending master?"
"You’re showing off too much for someone talking to the captain of the Water Forces of the South Pole, master of boomerangs."

Katara smiled.

"So tomorrow, at dawn?"
"Tomorrow, at dawn."

They both fell silent for a moment, and Katara almost thought her brother was sleeping.

"What about Suki?"

The girl throws a pillow in his direction.

"Go to sleep."

༄ ☾ ༄

The Fire Nation was no longer the same as it was during the war.

In fact, for Katara, it was almost a relief to see the country so lively. There were posters advertising dance classes, preparations for festivals in the central neighborhoods, and children running through alleys with red ribbons tied around their wrists. The streets were clean. The people are busy with daily life, and not with curfews or fear of soldiers invading their homes.

No one seemed to hide from their government. No shop had boarded-up windows. And, for the first time, Katara realized that maybe someone was actually trying to fix the damage caused by the war.

The ship slid slowly into the port, gently rocking under the final touches of the ropes tying it to the wood. The scent of embers and salt was strong in the air, as if fire and sea were in constant contest.

Fishermen cast their nets far out, and the distant sound of laughter merged with the calls of seagulls, creating a familiar melody that closely resembled that played in the South Pole. Paper lanterns hung from posts, shining as brightly as stars tonight.

For Katara, being on a boat, especially sailing across such a vast body of water as the ocean, was as comforting as returning home after a long trip. The sea of the Fire Nation, in particular, enveloped her with a profound, almost tangible calmness. For some reason she couldn't explain, in that country ruled by the Sun, the presence of the Moon was felt intensely, especially when she watched the waves move under their silver glow.

It reminded her of something she'd heard in the North Pole:

“Tui and La, ocean and moon, pull and push, yin and yang. They depend on each other. One cannot exist without the other.”

Sokka yawned loudly beside her, leaning his boomerang on his shoulder.

"Well... we’re here. And still alive. Point for us."
"Just try not to say that out loud in front of the guards," Katara replied, adjusting her bag’s strap on her shoulder.
"Do you think Zuko sent someone to fetch us?"

She didn’t answer, just looked around. She wasn’t exactly disappointed. Just... not surprised.

They descended the makeshift wooden plank, only to be greeted by a grumpy guard and a dry heat that made Katara want to dive back into the sea. The man checked their names with disinterest.

"Katara and Sokka... where are you from?"
"Southern Water Tribe."

When Katara said that, the guard immediately changed his stance.

"Royal guests…!" he said, almost surprised at himself.

The guard went to another, who was a little farther from the post. Soon after, the two returned and bowed to the siblings.

Sokka raised an eyebrow. He and Katara exchanged glances.

"The Fire Lord can’t come to meet you in person, but he’s waiting for you at the Imperial Palace."
"Or maybe he doesn’t want to see us," Katara whispered to Sokka discreetly.
"Or maybe he’s cursed and about to turn into a psychotic dragon, and no one wants to say anything."

Katara looked at him.

He shrugged.

"Come on, follow me," the second guard said, guiding them down the main street.
"Well, he brought someone to escort us. Maybe we’re overthinking it."
"Maybe, Sokka. But we’ll see."

The guards led us to the nearest shop and signaled for us to wait, whispering something about carriages.

They stopped at a cozy tea shop with a vintage facade filled with plants, chairs, and metal tables. The place looked like it had been around for at least a few decades. Even from outside, the strong scent of herbs and fresh bread was noticeable.

When Katara looked at her brother, he seemed hypnotized by the smell of food.
"Let’s stop to eat."

Sokka looked at his sister with eyes almost brimming with happiness, making her laugh. The two entered the shop to soak in the interior, which was so different from the outside.

Despite maintaining the comforting smell from outside, the aromas of incense, herbs, and food were much stronger, almost conflicting. Every step seemed to pass through a new layer of scent, as if the air carried the essence of every meal made in that place.

The interior decor was, at best, eccentric. Several fans with motivational phrases — some faded, others shining with fresh gold ink — were scattered across the walls. Sculptures of people in bizarre poses occupied shelves and corners, as if frozen mid-trance. The walls were covered in dark red velvet, absorbing the light and giving the environment a theatrical feel.

Lighting ranged from ornate chandeliers with hanging crystals to candles in twisted metal holders. Plants with intense colors — purple leaves, orange flowers, bluish stems — seemed to sprout from every corner, contrasting completely with the serene exterior.

The ambiance was not even matched by the food: bread shaped like customers’ faces, cakes with flavors that shouldn’t exist, and teas served in everything except teapots and cups.

Katara cast a worried glance at her brother, who appeared more enchanted than frightened. Well, she was worried — until she saw that they did leaf reading in the tea. That’s when she became quite interested.

They immediately sat at a table under one of the fans that read: “Fine water flows far,” and started reading the menu.

"Good evening! Welcome to the Astral Teapot. Do you already know what you’d like to order?" said one of the waitresses. Maybe because of the time, the place was relatively empty, which explained her friendliness — or speed.

"Hmm… I’d like the jacaranda and seafood cake with face sculpture, and my sister wants a tea with jasmine, mint, and coconut water that comes with leaf reading."
"Then a waxing crescent wind pie and a cup of Balance. Anything else?"

Despite the confusing names, we simply agreed and waited.

༄ ☾ ༄

The waitress brought the tea in a polished shell, with small crescent moon carvings along the edges, in addition to the facial sculpture cake, which was so similar to Sokka that it looked like it was molded from a mask. Even from a distance, he was already enthusiastically sniffing his face.

"Drink until only a little remains," she said, exiting and returning to the post behind the counter.

Katara obeyed, savoring the mixture. When only the bottom remained, the waitress carefully took the shell.

"I will take it to our Shaman. I’ll be back soon."

Meanwhile, Sokka was devouring his own face, which was a scene too graphic for his sister’s eyes.

The waitress returned, bringing the shell and a piece of paper. She handed over the shell and the paper, now with only a little vapor left. She ran her finger along the inside of the shell and began reading the material she received. Sokka discreetly read over his sister’s shoulder:

"The leaves form a humanoid figure with its back turned, observing another from a distance.
A creature appears three times — a fish? a dragon? A bison?
In the center, a bow, made of something resembling a long fabric.
The last image seems to be a wave crashing against a wall. But maybe it’s just too much foam.
Nothing is conclusive, but there’s something there. Something about to slip through the fingers — or wrap around the ankle."

"A cloth with a bow in the middle."
"Is that what you're thinking about, Katara? That woman is a charlatan!"
"Lower your voice, Sokka," Katara scolded.

Katara exchanged a look with Sokka.

"That part about the bow… isn’t that something wedding couples do here in the Fire Nation?"
"They probably say that to all young women who come here without a ring. Besides, we haven't seen this so-called Shaman."
"Anyway, this will be an interesting week," said Katara, suddenly optimistic.
"So be it. Let’s pay."

The waitress smiled as the siblings got up.

"Royal guests don’t pay. It’s on the house. We look forward to your return…"

Sokka raised an eyebrow but left smiling from ear to ear.

"Finally, something good about being friends with the Fire Lord," he murmured, already licking his finger full of icing from his carved eye.

Outside, the dry heat wrapped around them like an unkind blanket again. The street remained calm, except for the two guards earlier, now beside a dark red and gold ornate carriage, pulled by a creature Katara couldn't identify immediately — it looked like a mix between a horse and a lizard, with bulging eyes and an overly long tongue.

One of the guards opened the door with a ceremonial gesture.

"The Imperial House awaits you. The Fire Lord has given orders for you to be received with due respect."
"Well, respect is a good start," Sokka said, stepping in with a dramatic stride and a snout held high.

Katara entered right after, but not before casting one last look at the store’s facade. She only got into the carriage in silence, with the taste of the tea still in her mouth and the red bow pounding in her head.

Chapter Text

Through it — 红绳

Preface 0.2 – Through Unanswered Letter

༄ ☾ ༄

Zuko had spent nearly every day of the last month walking the long path from his bedroom to his office—and from his office back to his bedroom.

Even if he wanted to isolate himself somewhere else, he would’ve had a hard time. Almost everything in the palace was under renovation or being replaced: walls, doors, furniture. Every hallway he walked down felt narrower each day. Every detail of the house he’d grown up in brought back memories he’d rather forget. It felt like walking through a family tomb—except all the ghosts were still there, watching.

It would’ve been easier if Mai had stayed.

She always knew how to handle that kind of thing—organization, aesthetic decisions, the right shade of red for the tapestries. She’d been the one coordinating the remodeling of the Fire Nation palace almost singlehandedly before she left.

Now, the place he lived in wasn’t the home he grew up in, nor the one Mai had envisioned building. He still didn’t know what to do with that truth, so he spent most of his days grumbling and burying himself in even more work.

Only now, not even that was helping.

His advisors spoke, but their words went in one ear and out the other. Sometimes, he couldn’t even remember if he had eaten or the last time he looked at himself in a mirror.

What scared him most was knowing his friends were arriving.

Any moment now, they’d see him like this.

He knew he could trust them, but for months, he hadn’t let anyone get close. Not because of some mental breakdown—or at least not only that. It was worse. He’d discovered a curse.

Two months earlier, Zuko had consulted the imperial physician. He’d been dealing with constant headaches, sleep paralysis, and hallucinations. The initial diagnosis was late-onset war trauma.

He tried to believe it, that first week. Tried to rest. But it only got worse.

If it wasn’t the paralysis, it was the dream. Always the same dragon—an enormous, ancient creature. It laughed. A laugh that didn’t come from its mouth but dug straight into Zuko’s thoughts. At the end of every dream, Zuko would fall into a mirror.

The most disturbing part was that, each time, he looked a little less like himself. A scale here. Reptilian eyes. Mute. Then came the teeth. The tail. The claws.

Zuko was disturbed—and desperate.

His desperation led him to consult all kinds of doctors, erudite and healers. Until he finally found a shaman.

She was the one who gave him proof of her diagnosis.

And it wasn’t physical, it was spiritual.

A curse passed down through generations.

His father’s family history was well known, so it likely came from his mother’s side—a bloodline marked by an ancient spiritual punishment that only targeted the Yang. Lucky for Zuko, he was the first male descendant on Ursa’s side since the originally cursed one.

The shaman explained that the curse had manifested late because of his troubled childhood. It couldn’t take hold in a mind already full of other burdens. And though powerful, the curse was simple to break: it required peace of mind, balance… and another soul. A Yin. Zuko thought about that every day.

Mai wasn’t his Yin.

Despite everything, they were too similar—two sides of the same coin. She left him because she recognized that, too. It was a secret he had trusted her with—truthfully, the only one he could have. Mai still wrote to him sometimes, but they both chose to keep their distance, as friends.

The shaman also mentioned that the longer the spirit stayed inside him, the more they would become one.

Zuko was pulled from his thoughts when he heard a knock at the office door.

"Come in."

The guard entered cautiously, nearly tripping over a pile of books about meditation and traditional Fire Nation medicine. He bowed deeply once he reached the desk.

"At ease," said Zuko, motioning for him to rise.
"The guests are on their way, Fire Lord. The siblings are already in a carriage headed here. The Avatar and Miss Beifong just arrived."

Zuko looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Prepare four rooms. And… which dining hall is the least destroyed?"
"The east garden, my lord. It’s fully renovated."
"Tell the chef to prepare something. I want everything ready to welcome them as soon as possible."
"Yes, Your Majesty."

༄ ☾ ༄

Katara and Sokka were the first to arrive.

Zuko was glad to see them—but even more worried about what they might think. 'Did they notice the chaos in the house?' 'Did they see something strange in me?' Those thoughts were repeating over and over again in his head. He wished he could read their minds. But to his surprise, they just looked around, as if trying to solve a puzzle.

"Has it always been this… yellow?" Sokka asked, wrinkling his nose at a freshly painted wall.
"No," Katara replied, curiously inspecting the details. "But it’s not bad. Just different."

Zuko relaxed his shoulders a bit.

"We’ve been making some changes. A lot of changes, honestly."

Sokka clapped him on the back and smiled.

"Look at that! Mr. Heat himself with a sense of style! Next, you’ll tell me you picked flowers for the vases."

Zuko scoffed but couldn’t hide a small smile.

"Of course not." He paused. "And it’s Fire Lord."

Katara smiled at her brother and began to walk further into the palace.

"Come on, I want to see the rest of your house… or should I say palace?"

Sokka followed, muttering something about hoping to find a bathroom that didn’t breathe smoke.

Zuko followed silently, a little calmer.

'At least they’re still the same,' he thought, relieved.

Katara slowed her pace to walk beside him.

"I’m glad you’re okay. We were worried."

That sentence sent a chill down Zuko’s spine. He knew his friends might notice something off, but he hadn’t expected it to be said so casually.

"If this is about the letters… I was swamped with work. I put most of them aside to answer later and then forgot. It’s just… I’m sorry," he said, stumbling over his own words.

Katara raised an eyebrow.

"Wow… rehearsed that one? Really touching, especially the part where you ‘accidentally’ brag about being the Fire Lord," she teased.

Zuko looked away, embarrassed.

"Came with the eye bags and insomnia, I guess."

Katara made a short sound, almost a laugh.

"I can imagine. And you still had energy to paint the house yellow?"

Zuko let out a soft laugh but didn’t answer.

For a moment, they walked in silence, their footsteps echoing through the freshly renovated halls.

Katara tilted her head slightly toward him.

"Still… It’s good to see you. Really."

Their eyes met for just a second too long.

"You seem different," she added, in a lower voice.
"Different bad or different good?" he asked with a half-smile.
"Just… different." Katara smiled back, and for a second her arm brushed against his.

Sokka, far ahead, shouted that he’d found a sculpture that looked like him—"only less hot"—before disappearing through a side door.

The two looked at each other and, this time, laughed. They picked up the pace to catch up with him.

༄ ☾ ༄

By the time the tour was over, everyone had arrived.

Zuko was satisfied with himself, and he’d definitely reward whoever had prepared the dining area—which, technically, wasn’t even a dining area.

Originally, that space was meant for the women of the household to hold tea ceremonies—or so they told Zuko. He’d never actually seen it used. During his childhood, the east garden always felt like a forgotten corner of the palace rather than a living space. Now, renovated, it had become a kind of refuge.

The red wooden pavilion, built like a bridge, now served as an open-air dining room. The columns were decorated with delicate carvings of dragons and peonies, and the curved roof cast soft shadows over the friends sitting around the low tea table.

Katara settled onto an embroidered cushion, watching the moon’s reflection on the water below. She seemed lost in her own world, surrounded by floral scents, steam rising from tea, and the calm sound of water. Zuko thought that must be something about waterbenders—especially under a full moon—but didn’t dwell on it. He just sat with the thought that she fit right in.

Sokka, on the other hand, was already enthusiastically serving himself, balancing three pastries on his plate while joking about the “aqua peacocks”—as he’d decided to call the turtle-ducks swimming in line. He laughed to himself and tried to convince Toph that one of them had spoken.

“You’re delusional,” Toph replied, lying on her side on a cushion, legs crossed, a plate of crumbs and an untouched teacup beside her. “Anything that floats slowly pisses me off.”

Aang, as usual, couldn’t sit still. He’d already circled the pavilion twice, admiring every flower, asking for names, trying (and failing) to pet a turtle-duck, and asking Zuko far too many questions, who replied in short phrases or tired looks.

“And this one, Zuko, what’s this? Smells like cinnamon!” Aang asked, pointing at a red-leafed shrub.
“Murici,” Zuko muttered.
“Is that an actual plant, or did you just make that up?” Aang laughed before running back toward Katara. “I like it here. How about you, Katara?”

Around the lake, paper lanterns floated, mirrored among the open lotus flowers. Fireflies crossed the air in drifting lights. The garden’s edges were full of colors and scents: delicate Chinese verbena leaves, golden tones of golden grass, clusters of murici bushes, and the flowering, flame-shaped flamboyant trees. The air was warm—one of the most humid days of the year.

Zuko paused for a moment, leaning his hand on the dark wood railing. He remembered when he was a child, and his mother would take him there—not to the pavilion, but the garden—holding his hand tightly, gently. She used to say the east garden was the only place in the house where whatever he said was welcome. The flowers liked to listen.

It was where she came to think, sew, or just watch the turtle-ducks swim in circles under the bridge. Sometimes, she’d let him pick up fallen flowers—never living ones. “The ones that fall still have beauty,” she’d say.

It had been so long. And yet, there, surrounded by the same flowers and same perfume, it felt like she had never left.

He’d forgotten about that.

And it made him wonder if she knew. If she knew what would become of her son.

Zuko stood for a while, watching everyone. The garden felt more alive than he remembered. Maybe because of them. Maybe because of her.

“Zuzu, and this one? Looks like a mango.”
“Don’t call me that… That’s pau-terra. Supposedly good for your health.”

༄ ☾ ༄

Zuko woke up in the middle of the night.

For the first time in weeks, he had actually managed to get a good amount of sleep—but the anxiety of slipping back into the limbo was stronger than the peace a good night’s sleep could bring.

He rose from the bed silently. The entire palace was asleep. He put on a light robe and wandered through the dimly lit hallways, letting his feet guide him to the West Garden.

The west wing was one of the few areas still untouched by the renovations. It was exactly as it had been for years—at least since his father took the throne. Perfectly symmetrical and carefully planned. The place had something static about it, as if time itself refused to pass in that space.

It was a beautiful garden. Unlike the east garden—filled with native species from the Fire Nation—the west garden displayed a curated collection of flora from other nations. There were cherry trees from the Earth Kingdom, pale oleanders from the Air Temples, and even small shrubs adapted from the Water Tribes, kept in damp soil.

Zuko walked between the flowerbeds, hearing only the wind rustling through branches and the soft tinkling of a stone fountain. For now, that peace was enough.

He turned a corner in the west garden, guided by the faint sound of water being bent. It was deep in the night, and most of the staff were long asleep. But there, under the gentle light of the moon, Katara was quietly bending water.

She was forming small whirlpools over a shaded bed of broad, bluish leaves—resilient plants that normally grew near the hot springs of the South Pole. But they weren’t doing well. Some of the leaves had begun to shrivel, punished by the dry climate.

"You forgot to adjust the irrigation," Katara said, still with her back to him. Her voice was firm, but not harsh. " These plants can handle cold, wind, even ice. But dry heat? They don’t know that."

Zuko stopped a few steps away. The soft blue light from the water reflected across her face, in constant motion.

"I thought they’d be safe in the shade." He rubbed the back of his neck. " That was my mistake. I’m not very good with plants."
"Not your first mistake," she replied with a tired half-smile, but no malice.

He nodded, not defending himself.

Katara finally turned around, letting the water settle on the cool ground. She was barefoot, her feet wet, hair slightly loose from the braids she wore during the day.

"I just needed… to do something with my hands," she said. " Sitting still makes me anxious. And I couldn’t sleep."

Zuko watched her for a moment. It wasn’t what he was expecting, but it was so typical of her. He sat beside her on the edge of the flowerbed, careful not to crush anything.

"I can’t sleep either."

Zuko felt an immense wave of relief the moment he said it. It caught him off guard.

"What happened? Are you okay?"
"Nothing. I’m just… not having a headache anymore."
"That should be a good thing."

He felt her glance at him sideways. He had a feeling about that, but let it go.

Katara sighed.

"Lucky these plants are stubborn," she said, bending more water onto the roots. " If they were like you, they’d be dead by now."

Zuko raised an eyebrow.

"I’m resilient." He said, a bit offended.
"You’ve got a thick skull."
"Close enough." He shrugged, and she let out a soft laugh.

A brief silence fell between them, broken only by the sound of water seeping into the earth. Katara tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Thanks for letting them plant these here," she said more softly. " Not everything feels foreign, at least."

Zuko nodded but didn’t speak. His gaze lingered on her hands, on the careful movements. Something about the way she moved made the garden feel less empty, the night less long.

He wondered how she could feel foreign somewhere she seemed to blend everywhere.

"You should try sleeping again," he said, not looking at her.
"What about you?"

For a moment, her words didn’t register. The blue light from the water shimmered on the stones and in her eyes, and for a second, he felt like he was somewhere else. Somewhere far from Katara’s refreshing waterbending. Somewhere way too hot.

Instead of damp leaves and nighttime stillness, he saw fire. And a voice—an unbearable one—returned, dragging the headache with it.

The plants dried out. The lake evaporated. The trees crackled and burned. And there, in the midst of destruction, stood he.

Two slitted pupils stared back. A massive golden dragon, twisted and looming within the flames, dragged itself toward him. Its eyes were his own.

"She will see. She’ll try to put us out—and she’ll burn. Let me take care of this."

He wanted to answer, to scream that there was no us, but when Zuko blinked, the garden was back. Still, the smell lingered—smoke, scorched wood.

He was standing up, rigid, breathing fast.

Katara was staring at him with a furrowed brow, cautious.

"Zuko?"

He stepped back, his eyes gleaming with something strange.

"You should leave."
"What?" She took a step forward, trying to keep her voice calm. " You’re not kicking me out of the garden, are you?"

He laughed, bitter.

"Maybe I should. Maybe all you do here is weigh me down."
"A weight?" Her eyes widened, a mix of shock and anger. " I was worried about you. I came here to help. And you treat me like I’m a burden?"
"You never understood anything, did you?" He stepped closer, voice low and threatening. " You think you know what I feel, what I’ve been through? That your useless letters saving me? That your visit change anything?"
"At least I’m trying." Her voice rose, firm and hurt. " But you just keep pushing people away, closing yourself off like that’s somehow better."

He looked at her with hollow eyes, as if wondering why she hadn’t left yet.

"I’m already lost, Katara. You have no idea what I’m carrying."
"Then tell me! Explain the burden that’s so heavy." She nearly shouted, frustration bleeding through. " Or have you forgotten I did the same? That you took me to the man who killed my mother?"

His expression darkened.

"You don’t understand what you’re asking. If I let you in, you’ll burn with me. You’ll get lost too."
"Fire is not what scares me."

He laughed again. But this time, it didn’t sound bitter.

It didn’t sound like the Zuko she knew at all.

She faltered. Something was wrong.

"You never had real friends. All you know is charity. Pity. And I can’t stand that."

"Now you’re just saying whatever. Is this all because you don’t want me here?"
"No. I want you gone. I want you to forget I exist." " He spat each word like a dagger.
"You’re insane."
"Maybe. But I’d rather be that than have you haunting me."

She clenched her fists, voice steady.

"I’m not leaving you alone."

He stepped closer.

"You don’t get it. You never will. Leave now before I make you regret coming."

Katara hesitated—but didn’t back down.

"Then expel me. Tell me I have no place here."

He clenched his fists, and the fire exploded from his hands with a sharp crack. A jet of flame slithered across the ground and flared violently—rising just inches from her face. The heat was so intense it burned her cheek, leaving it instantly red on contact. The scent of singed hair filled the air.

She flinched, tears spilling before she could stop them. Hand covering the small scar.

"Fine. Then I’m gone. You won’t have to bother answering my letters. I won’t write you anymore."

He stared at her, breath heaving, hands trembling. Inside, the dragon roared, desperate to drive everything—and everyone—away.

She stepped back, not once turning around.

And when Zuko came to his senses, he collapsed to the ground.

Chapter Text

Through it — 红绳

Chapter 1 - Through Long Goodbyes

༄ ☾ ༄

Two years later.

For Katara, the scar on her face was something she had already gotten used to. But every time she got up to go to the bathroom and looked in the mirror, it felt like a bitter reminder of the end of her friendship with Zuko.

She reached for her cheek. Scars had never really been a problem for her — not after what her hands looked like following the first time Aang firebended. Still, that didn’t stop her from covering it with makeup.

As she stared at herself in the mirror, Aang appeared behind her and wrapped his arms around her.

Unlike a few years ago, he was now taller than Katara. He also looked more mature than the boy he had once been.

"Good morning," he said, still half-asleep.
"Morning."

She looked away from the mirror.

"Are you okay? Is something bothering you?" Aang asked softly.
"It’s nothing. I’m just tired."

Besides Katara and Zuko, no one in the Gaang knew what had happened between the two of them. They only knew it had been ugly — and that neither of them wanted to talk about it.

When she thought about it thoroughly, she guessed they did know. But they knew her too well to bring it up.

"Come on. I’m hungry," Katara said, slipping out of his embrace and heading toward the kitchen.

Even though they had access to all the money in the world, they preferred a quiet life. No luxuries, just what was necessary, just how the nomads did it. Little by little, they were restoring the Air Temples. 

But even if she wanted luxury, she wouldn’t have time to appreciate it between restoring the air temples, her work with Sokka in the south, and her actual job, in which she traveled to devastated regions and took care of what was left.

She healed the wounded, helped their engineers raise temporary shelters, and rebuilt homes exactly as they used to be — or as close as possible.

When Katara reached the kitchen, she smelled fresh tea. Someone had left jasmine leaves soaking the night before — probably herself, though she couldn’t quite remember. She’d been forgetting things often. Small things, but still.

Aang followed close behind, his bare feet making little sound on the wooden floor.

Katara stood by the table and pulled the still-empty mug closer, her fingers playing with the cool ceramic.

Aang placed the kettle on the fire and, for a moment, the sound of water beginning to boil was the only thing that existed between them.

"How was your last mission? The one in the Earth Kingdom?”
"We fixed three houses. Healed seven people. Buried two."
"That’s good. The losses would’ve been much greater without you all."

Katara made a face — she didn’t let him see it, though.

"If I’d paid more attention, maybe we wouldn’t have lost anyone," she muttered.
"You don’t have to do everything alone, Katara," Aang said gently.
"I’m not alone. I have a team."
"You know that’s not what I meant."

She leaned against the counter, her shoulders sinking. She went quiet.

The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable. Katara felt like he had a toad in his throat, but this way was better. No fighting. Some things are better left unsaid.

Aang poured tea for Katara.

They drank like that: in silence.

༄ ☾ ༄

Katara left during the night.

She didn’t like waking Aang. Long goodbyes were another thing she didn’t like. So she would leave a letter with the estimated return date and slip out before sunrise, boots in hand to avoid making noise.

The trip was silent. Just the sound of her boat cutting through the sea and her thoughts, drifting in and out like the clouds above.

Upon arriving at the designated region, she was met by other members of the foundation. Some nodded with quiet reverence; others approached to greet her.

Katara nodded back — always kind, but direct.

The mission was urgent. A village to the north, in the Earth Kingdom, had been completely destroyed after a landslide. They were there due to the massive number of natural disasters occurring in that region. The nation didn’t have enough structure to aid all of them at the same time, so the Soma group called them to help.

She entered the makeshift building that served as a temporary base. It was made of reinforced canvas, recycled wood, and the bare minimum of everything they had on their hands.

Inside were the other leaders of the operation. A man stood up as she walked in.

"Master Katara," he said respectfully. He was a waterbender from the Northern Tribe, with braided hair and a serious expression. "We knew you were coming, but we didn’t expect you so early."
"Best to start as early as possible, Nanook," she replied, pulling the still-damp cloak from her shoulders. "How many are injured?"
"Thirty-two. Eight are in serious condition. Two missing."

Katara closed her eyes for a brief moment.

"Prepare the healing area. I want to start with the children."

The man nodded immediately and went out to coordinate the others.

Katara looked around. Map on the table, blueprints of destroyed houses, scattered reports. All familiar. All functional.

Around the table, two other leaders awaited her: an engineer from the Earth Kingdom and a commander from the Fire Nation, dressed in the simplified dark tunic of the new civil guard.

"Mei Lin, any progress?"
"We’ve started setting up the clinic structure to the south of the village," said the engineer, unfolding a blueprint. "The terrain is unstable, but we already have earthbenders working to reinforce the foundation."

Katara nodded, focused.

"The medicinal herb supply arrives tomorrow morning," she added. "If all goes well, you guys can treat the most serious cases by the end of the week."
"And after that?" asked Renjiro, a young man from the Fire Nation, lifting his gaze from the report he was reading.

His tone was neutral, but direct.

Katara didn’t respond right away.

"After that, we head west," the woman answered in her place. "There are reports of flooding in the coastal villages of the Earth Kingdom."

The commander crossed his arms.

"I know there are many priorities, but… There are at least four villages in the Fire Nation that haven’t received any aid since the last eruption." He paused, looking directly at Katara. "I’d like to suggest they be next."

The silence that followed was brief, but noticeable. Katara kept her eyes on the map for a moment too long. She ran her fingers over a red mark drawn in charcoal.

"Alright," she said at last.

Her voice came out low.

"Once we’re done here, we’ll go there."

The commander nodded.

"Thank you, Shifu Katara."
" Shifu ?"
"‘Master’ in my native language. I’m not a waterbender, so I say this out of respect."

Mei Lin and Renjiro got up to leave, exchanging their goodbyes.

Katara remained silent, just staring at the red circles over the Fire Nation villages after they left.

༄ ☾ ༄

"Master! The injured are in place. You're needed as of now!" said a young volunteer, bursting into the base like a cannon.

The woman left her thoughts behind and followed the boy. When they stepped outside, Katara noticed it was raining. She also noticed that other waterbenders were trying to control the rain.

"Wait," Katara said calmly.

The boy, still electric, stopped.

Katara took a deep breath, inhaling the damp smell of the earth. She closed her eyes and focused on the water in the rain surrounding her — in the droplets hanging in the air and the muddy puddles beneath her feet. And slowly, the rain ceased. The droplets stopped mid-air, hovering as if time had hesitated for her. With a calm motion of her hands, Katara gathered the water into a fluid, transparent mass, shaping it above the camp. In seconds, it froze — forming a delicate ice canopy. 

Katara looked at the other waterbenders, who were staring at her in shock.

"I need you to maintain this tent. It’s faster than what you were doing. Don’t let the ice melt."

They all nodded and immediately started replicating her moves, still awestruck.

"Shall we?"

The young volunteer nodded and led her to a tent as simple as the one the leaders used. The room was full. By Katara’s count, the two missing people had been found. She went straight to the children, who often didn’t show serious injuries at first — but she had enough experience to know never to underestimate wounds, especially on nights like this. She looked at her team — not her usual pick for healers, but since Kirra and Atka commanded the ‘clinic’ as soon as the tragedy took place, they deserved to have a break. Most of the healers available were still young and had grown up in the north.

"Who’s the most experienced of you?"

A young girl raised her hand. She looked no older than fourteen — Katara’s age when she met Aang, when she started to really bend.

"Come here."

The girl obeyed, standing right in front of her master.

"What’s your name?"
"Tima."

Katara repeated the name quietly.

"First, I’ll need you to be my second in command. For that to happen, you’ll need to follow my rules. Is that okay with you?"

The girl seemed too thin for her age, and she also seemed intimidated by Katara’s presence. That didn’t bother her; she wouldn’t be the first.

"You’ll need to tie your hair, especially when brewing medicine. And make sure everyone else does the same. Since you’re the most experienced, I’ll ask you to watch over and correct mistakes. Can you do that?"
"Yes, Master. I won’t disappoint."
"Alright, Tima. Let’s get to work."

Some of the victims were lying on makeshift mats, wrapped in thick blankets. Others sat in silence, wide-eyed — their bodies seemingly untouched, but their minds far away.

She gestured toward the shelves at the back of the tent, where bundles of herbs and clay pots were stacked in organized chaos.

"See if the gauze is ready. After that, I want you to reboil the water in the healing basins. The rain diluted it too much."

Tima nodded, already moving.

Katara knelt beside a girl with hair stuck to her forehead, her skin covered in fine dust.

"Hi, my name is Katara," she said gently, reaching out. "Can I take a look at your arm?"

The girl didn’t answer, but she didn’t pull away either. Her curled-up posture slowly eased, and Katara slid a warm water wrap around the swollen joint. The injury was minor, a sprain. Nothing serious. But she knew that wasn’t the only wound there.

"Where are you from?" she asked while working.
"From the top of the hill," the girl replied softly. "The house that fell."

Katara nodded with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She finished the bandage and gently brushed the girl’s hair back before moving on to the next. As she moved from child to child, woman to woman, man to man, she felt the weight of each of their injuries. She did what she could, as always. But there were limits — and Katara could feel each of them creeping closer with every mission.

When she was too tired to keep going, she stood up, her knees cracking.

She heard footsteps behind her.

"They asked for you," said Mei Lin, leaning against the doorway with a dirt-stained cloth slung over her shoulder. "Everyone’s gathered. And no one’s yelling yet."

Katara raised an eyebrow.
"That’s new." 
"Enjoy it while it lasts. Might be the only moment of peace before the next storm," Mei Lin replied, tilting her head toward the exit.

Katara let out a long sigh, picking up a small herb pouch from the floor.

"Come on. Before Renjiro starts talking in poetic metaphors."

Katara grimaced — partly from exhaustion, partly to stop herself from laughing.

"Let me check with my team first."

Katara stepped out of the tent, blinking against the overcast light. The camp stretched before her — rows of low shelters, smoke rising in thin trails from cookfires, and the soft murmur of movement as her team worked. She crossed the clearing, her boots sinking slightly in the damp soil. Atka was crouched near a row of crates, organizing what was left of their dried herbs. Tima was helping Kirra rewrap a patient’s arm, brows furrowed in concentration.

Katara crouched beside them.

"How are we doing?"

Kirra glanced up first. She was one hell of a waterbender — almost Katara’s age, and extremely talented. She preferred to fight, but lately, they didn’t have the luxury of choosing. More and more people were getting hurt, and the few with healing abilities were being pulled into the field.

"Almost done. We’ve checked everyone twice. No infections, just fatigue."
"Supplies?"
"Enough to get us through another village, maybe two. Depends on how many more stragglers we take in," Atka responded.

Atka, on the other hand, was more on the quiet side — a few years older than Katara. His waterbending wasn’t flashy, but it was precise. A perfect healer. He wasn’t like Katara or Kirra. Even though they liked this, they loved something else.

Tima wiped her hands on a cloth and stood.

"The last poultices are setting. We should be ready to move soon."
"Any word from the scouts?" Katara asked.
"No movement. No smoke in the distance. Just trees and fog."

Katara stood slowly.

"Good. Let’s keep it quiet. We’ll stay until dawn if nothing changes. But I want everyone packed before nightfall."

She went back to Mei Lin.

"Let’s go."

༄ ☾ ༄

The meeting tent simmered in tense silence, broken only by the measured voices of Nanook and Renjiro.

"You want to force a crossing through the eastern Fire Nation mountains with improvised gear," said Nanook, his tone firm — the kind used by someone who rarely lost patience but was close to it. "That’s not urgency . That’s recklessness."
" Recklessness is leaving villages waiting while we debate geography," Renjiro shot back, arms crossed. "Every day we delay, more people die. Or did you forget?"
"No one here has forgotten. But dying on the way there won’t save anyone."

They both fell silent at once as Katara entered.

She didn’t announce herself — just stepped through the flap, her gaze heavy with exhaustion. Mei Lin followed close behind, clutching a small, stained notepad, the corner of a dirt-covered cloth still slung over her shoulder. Katara walked up to the central table. The tent was stifling despite the cold outside. The humidity made the maps stick to her fingers.

She glanced around. Map on the table, diagrams of destroyed homes, reports scattered. Familiar. Functional.

"We’re deciding the best route to Shinzui," said Nanook, nodding respectfully.

Renjiro said nothing. He simply dragged the map a few inches closer and pointed.

"The village is here." His nail tapped sharply on the paper. "The surrounding terrain is unstable. Sea routes are compromised. We’ll have to go overland."

Katara crossed her arms, eyes tracing the lines on the map. She knew that region — hot, dry, and filled with memories of the war she’d rather not revisit.

"How many survivors?" She asked.
"A hundred. Maybe fewer. Half of the population is gone." Nanook answered. "Children, women, the elderly. Some benders stayed behind to help, but they’ve got no supplies or structure. They’re starting to get sick too due to the constant fires."
"The caves to the south could serve as temporary shelter," Mei Lin offered, leaning slightly against the table. "If we get the water barrels through, at least that part is covered."
"Assuming the water doesn’t evaporate on the way," Renjiro muttered.

Mei Lin scrunched her nose theatrically.

"You should try optimism sometime. It’s therapeutic."
"I am optimistic," he replied. "Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here."

The silence that followed cut sharper than their earlier argument. All eyes turned to Katara.

She kept hers on the map. Shinzui. A name that burned in her mouth like a spoonful of wasabi.

"Do we have what we need to travel for a week or so?" She asked.
“I don’t think so. We can make a three-day trip at least. That’s the time we have to get to Ba Sing Se.” Renjiro pointed, “That’s why it’s urgent. ” He glared at Nanook.
"Stop it, you two. You’re giving me a headache. Katara, supplies are packed, teams are sorted, and scouts just returned. The western slope is clear. I agree with Renji, we can and should go as soon as possible," Mei Lin argued.
“Please never say that ever again.”
“I heard Jin calling you that! I’m as cute as her.”

Katara ignored them, as much as she wanted to tease him too, she was too tired for joking.

"Then we leave at dawn," Katara said, steady.

Nanook crossed his arms and nodded, partly defeated.

"I’ll lead the front in case we hit resistance or..." He hesitated. "More tremors."
"Neither will happen." Katara spat.
"Right, I forgot Katara’s friends with the Fire Lord," Mei Lin said, dragging a chair over and sitting down.
"Will we have enough healers? The current team is still recovering."
"With you there? More than enough," said Nanook. "And they’ll have plenty of time to recover."

She reached out, carefully repositioning the map. Her fingertip landed right over the route cutting through the heart of the Fire Nation.

"Dawn, then," she repeated.

Mei Lin sighed, wiping the dirt off her hands onto Renjiro’s sleeve, making him scowl and step back.

"So we’re set? I think I’ve stayed up past my bedtime."
"Of course. Good night," said Nanook with a faint smile.

༄ ☾ ༄

The sky was still dark when Katara stepped out of her tent. The camp slept beneath a heavy silence, broken only by the sound of canvas flapping in the wind and gravel crackling beneath her boots. The carts were ready, tied with damp ropes, and the lizard-horses slept standing, their necks swaying under the thin mist. She scanned the row of stacked barrels — the rolls of fabric, the boxes of herbs she wasn’t even sure she had sorted.

Katara pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, tying her hair back with a dark ribbon. She was about to head to the front of the caravan when she heard footsteps behind her.

"You sleep less than you seem to," said Renjiro, stepping from the shadow of a tent, posture straight, hands behind his back. He was fully awake.
"Habit," she replied, without turning. "People don’t usually expect a sleepy healer. And during the war, we mostly took turns sleeping."
"Took turns?"
"The Avatar team."

Renjiro stepped closer, stopping beside her. He surveyed the camp as if trying to spot a threat ahead of time, but his voice came lower:

"Nervous?"
"As always."
"Good. Overly brave people are a hassle."

Katara almost smiled. They stood in silence for a few seconds.

"I think I should write to Zuko," she said, still not facing him.

Renjiro didn’t respond right away. He just glanced at her, surprised.

"The Fire Lord? I think that’s a good idea… But are you sure?"

Renjiro had once been in the royal guard — around the time that happened. Among the guards, there had been murmurs about the fight, but it never reached the public. She still didn’t know why he left and chose to help with the foundation — but she was grateful.

"I’m not sure," she said, biting the corner of her lip. "Maybe I just need to write, not even read it, and send it."
"Then do it. It doesn’t have to be about that."
"But it is," Katara sighed. "When it’s about him, it always is."

Renjiro went quiet for a moment, then adjusted the leather belt around his waist and said:

"You’re the best healer I’ve ever met. More than that, I think you’re the most brilliant waterbender of our generation… but your relationships are really complicated."

She let out a short, humorless laugh.

"At least I have a boyfriend."
“The one you see twice in a period of three months?”

She knew he was right. She only saw Aang when they had or could work in the Temples.

"I’m just saying… for some people, talking is harder than saving a thousand people a month."

Katara turned to him, and this time, the smile was real.

"You’re terrible with words, Renjiro."
"That’s why I don’t write letters."

One of the lizard-horses — which she found out were called ‘Longma’ — snorted softly behind them, a sign the time was near. The sky was starting to lighten. Violet in the east, clouds beginning to break. Katara adjusted her cloak and looked toward the trail ahead.

"It’s time."

She walked to the front of the caravan, where the maps were stored in a leather box beside the navigation tools. Renjiro followed, saying nothing. She opened the map carefully, smoothing the folds with her palm. The route to Ba Sing Se passed through two canyons and a village that, according to rumors, had grown increasingly unstable. The crossing would take three days — less, if they ran into no setbacks. Just in time.

"Do you think we should go around the Lishu Valley? It’s dangerous, but it might be worth it," she asked.

Renjiro studied the map over her shoulder.

"If we go around, we lose two days," he said, pointing firmly. "But if we cross… we might get there in less than a week. The weather in the Fire Nation is merciless this time around. We could use the extra days."

Katara nodded slowly. She already knew that.

"You know what to do," she said, facing him. "Let’s cross the city. We might be able to reach the villages in four days."
"I’ll go with the first group, with Jin and Ryema," said Renjiro. "I’ll get everything ready for you once we’re there."

Katara smirked.

“Jin?”
“Not you, too.”
“What? I’m sure you chose her for various good reasons.”

Renjiro frowned.

“I’m just kidding. I’m happy for you. You need to work a little less.”
“I could say the same.”

Katara folded the map and tucked it away.

"Let me know if you see anything strange."
"Always."

They exchanged a final look before parting. It wasn’t affection — or even camaraderie.

Back in her tent, she grabbed her canteen, herb kit, and medic tools. On top of her bag, she saw a piece of paper and a pen. She felt she should put pride aside and write to Zuko — no matter how simple the letter. She picked up the quill and scribbled a short message. Then lit a nearby candle and sealed the letter.

When she stepped back out, the morning sky was already painted in a warm orange. Half-asleep children stumbled between carts, and a young earthbender was trying to move a stuck wheel. Katara approached with a calm gesture and a quiet smile.

"Need help with that?"

The boy’s eyes widened.

"Miss Katara? Oh… yes, of course!"

She raised her hand, made a fluid motion with her fingers, and used the mist clinging to the canvas to gather water. With it, she lubricated the axle. With a soft pop, the wheel came loose.

"Sometimes, you just need to use less force."

The boy laughed, embarrassed.

"Thank you…"
"Would you do me a favor?" she asked, and he immediately nodded. "Deliver this letter for me?"
"Of course!" The boy took the letter. "Where to?"
"Fire Nation Imperial Palace, to Fire Lord Zuko."

The boy swallowed hard. He gave Katara a small bow, then sprinted toward the nearest village.

༄ ☾ ༄

The caravan left just before sunrise.

A soft rumble echoed as the wheels turned over the uneven trail, and the longma grunted, their claws clicking against the stone. The path ahead twisted through high cliffs, loose dirt, and narrow bridges. It would not be easy.

Katara rode near the front, hood up against the cold, but her attention was on everything — the children, the guards, the drivers. She held a position of leadership, yes — but that didn’t give her control over every little thing on their missions. She only had to assume control sometimes out of being respected, even though Katara couldn’t believe that was the real reason. She thought it was because she was restless.

Around midday, they stopped for water near a shaded cliffside. In the quiet, Mei Lin approached, holding a scroll under her arm.

“You sent a letter this morning,” She said, not asking, just noting. Her tone was unreadable.

Katara nodded once, without looking at her.

“Good.” Mei Lin continued, sitting down on a flat rock. “I was worried you’d let it fester again.”

Katara’s hands paused over a child’s bandaged wrist. She looked up slowly.

“Did Renjiro tell you?”
“No. But I can’t say I didn't eavesdrop earlier today. Sorry about that. And you’re terrible at hiding things, you’re not smooth with it, you know?”

Katara sighed, and Mei Lin couldn’t help but smile.

Katara didn’t answer. She finished adjusting the bandage, gave the child a soft pat on the shoulder, and stood up. 

“I don’t know what I want him to say.” She confessed. “Actually, I do know. I’d like it if he didn’t answer at all, just sent help if necessary, and then forgot all about me.”
“Damn girl.”

Katara glared at Mei Lin, who raised an eyebrow, tilting her head slightly.

"So you want him to save you, but also erase you from existence?" She let out a dry chuckle. "Are you asking for help or writing the ending to a Fire Nation romance novel?"

She crossed her arms, gaze a little more focused now.

"Look, Katara… if you really wanted to be forgotten, you wouldn’t be writing that letter at all. Even if it was because of our job."

Katara let out a breath.

“I like you better when you don’t sound like you’re high on Plato .”
“And yet here I am, giving free wisdom with every dose of crushed mint.”

They shared a dry smile.

The rest of the day passed without incident, save for one cart that lost a wheel near the second pass. But it was solved quickly. At nightfall, they camped near a ridge overlooking the forest below. Fires flickered. The air was colder now, sharper — the kind of cold that made memories hurt more. She sat alone near the edge, a bowl of soup growing cold in her hands. Below, fireflies blinked like forgotten stars. Somewhere far away, across the sea, Zuko would be receiving her letter.

She imagined him reading it. In silence, maybe in disbelief. Part of her thought that maybe he was waiting for it all along, but even if he was, she was sure she wouldn’t be able to forgive him for his silence.

༄ ☾ ༄

“Zuko,

I, along with the Soma Foundation, am en route to the southern villages of the Fire Nation affected by the recent eruptions. Especially Shinzui.

We are currently taking the lower pass near Linshu — the terrain is unstable, but still navigable. When we reach Ba Sing Se, the estimated arrival is in three to five days, depending on the weather and debris along the way. We’re travelling with six caravans, forty-eight people. 

If there have been any further seismic movements or evacuations in the last two days, please let me know as soon as possible. I’d prefer to avoid walking into chaos without preparation.

By the time this letter reaches you, we’ll have set up camp near the outer ridge, close to the old cedar groves. The air should be thick with ash, but manageable.

Katara”

༄ ☾ ༄

Through Letters She Tried to Send

“Zuko,
We’re heading south. Villages hit by the eruption still need aid.
Eight people in each caravan. Supplies intact. No injuries yet.
We took the Lishu Pass. Risky, but open.
Let me know if anything changes near the coast.
— Katara”

༄ ☾ ༄

“Fire Lo— Zuko,
We expect to arrive in the affected settlements within five days.
Please advise if local governance has shifted since the last report.
Regards,
— Katara”

༄ ☾ ༄

“Hey.
We made it past the pass. The ash’s still thick, but the wind’s steady.
Your salves helped. People were in pain. You did something good.
I think you’d want to see it. I don’t know, actually.
Anyway. We’re leaving Ba Sing Se this afternoon.
— K.”

༄ ☾ ༄

“Zuko,
I wanted to say something simple, like ‘I hope you’re all right,’ but it felt too— it felt like I shouldn’t.
I miss you, and I’m so angry, too.
Why let us be close if you were just going to shut me out?
There’s ash in everything. The wind sounds like the ocean.”

༄ ☾ ༄

“Zuko,
I wish we were on better terms. I know I said I wouldn’t write anymore.
But these are for me.
I only sent what I believed I had to.
I’ve been writing you a lot since that first letter. Feels like I’ve written at least two books to you.
I’ve been saying things I didn’t even know I felt.
And when I say nothing, it’s because—
You won’t read this.
But just so you know, we’ll reach Shinzui before morning.”

༄ ☾ ༄

After days of traveling, they finally arrived at the first village, Shinzui, minutes, maybe seconds before sunrise. Katara remembered this place. She had stolen clothes here before heading to the capital. It used to feel so much closer, but now it seemed like a fortress far too distant. Fires caused by the recent eruptions, mixed with the naturally dry region, were not the best combo for survival. But unlike what they had assumed, there were more survivors than expected. They’d need to call for backup throughout the day.

The firebenders had to clear a path first — the blaze had started hours before their arrival, swallowing what remained of the village in smoke and flame. Katara stayed behind to help extinguish what was left. She knew she was one of the most skilled benders there — if not the most — and there was no point in rushing to heal anyone if the medics were choking on smoke before they even reached the injured.

The smoke clung to her clothes like a second skin, and every breath was warm and dry, as if the fire had tried to crawl into her lungs. Sweat ran in rivulets down her back, and her arms ached from the continuous waterbending. Still, she moved on instinct, summoning wave after wave to douse the remaining flames that clung to crumbling wood and ash-covered stone.

Katara didn’t have a clock, but by the time the fire was out, the sun hadn’t even reached the middle of the sky — it wasn’t yet midday. When it clicked for her that they had finished their jobs, she almost collapsed to the ground.

Nanook didn’t look so good either.

"I think you should get some rest."
"I’m fine, Master. You should rest. You’ll need your strength to heal the ill later. I can stay and guide the other waterbenders."
"You look more exhausted than I do. I’ll only rest if you do too. So if I can’t heal properly later, it’s on you."

She said it to trick him into getting some sleep. Nanook gave her a look, as if she’d just questioned his honor, which made her smirk.

"Master Katara, if you insist… then we shall rest."

She smiled faintly, though the exhaustion still clung to her.

As they began to walk back toward the cluster of half-burned homes that had been cleared for temporary shelter, they passed a group of firebenders sitting in the shade of a collapsed wall. Their uniforms were gone, replaced by mismatched clothing that didn’t fit the usual Fire Nation standard — long-sleeved shirts, dark pants, collars high on their necks. Makeshift, practical, probably scavenged. Their expressions were blank with fatigue, but a few of them nodded silently in acknowledgment as Katara and Nanook passed.

Nanook didn’t even twitch. Either he’d never been to the Fire Nation, or he’d come here recently and knew it was trendy.

A few steps later, the two were greeted by familiar figures. Tima was perched on a crate, fanning herself with a broken dish. Kirra stood behind her, arms crossed, face streaked with ash and sweat. Atka was crouched near a basin of water, rinsing bandages that had once been white.

"You two look like you’ve crawled out of the Spirit World," Kirra said, eyeing them both with concern barely masked by her usual bluntness.
"Feels like we did," Katara muttered, massaging her shoulder.
"Everything under control here?" Nanook asked, trying to mask the rasp in his voice.

Tima nodded, standing and stretching her arms.

"Most of the patients are stable. A few burns, dehydration, smoke inhalation — but nothing we can’t manage. If it gets worse, I’ll wake you."
"Not unless the village is on fire again. They’re fine," Atka added with a tired smirk.
"Don’t joke about that," Tima said, alarmed. "It might actually happen."

Kirra scoffed.

"It won’t happen."
"I’m glad you guys are getting along," Katara sighed. "For now, we’re headed to rest. If any of the patients worsen, or we get more injured, send word immediately. If not, you can rest too."
"Of course, Master Katara," Tima said, then softened. "But really — rest. We’re fine."

Katara gave them a small nod before she and Nanook turned toward the cabins — nothing more than wooden frames with patched cloth doors, but right now, they looked like palaces.

༄ ☾ ༄

For the first time in a long while, Katara had managed to get a decent amount of sleep, but just as she was about to drift back into rest, a commotion near her cabin pulled her out again. Voices — not frantic, but curious, low murmurs filled the air.

She stepped outside, her brow furrowed, eyes heavy with lingering exhaustion. A crowd had gathered near the healing station. There were no screams, no signs of fresh danger — only an odd stillness, a quiet tension.

Katara moved closer cautiously — barefoot, hungry, half asleep, hair messy and unkempt, her body aching from days of relentless work. That was until her gaze landed on him .

He was crouched beside a small child, no older than six, his posture careful and gentle as he pressed a clean cloth to a fresh burn on the boy’s shoulder. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, revealing forearms smudged with soot and dried blood — marks of hard labor. His hair was different now — longer, unkempt, falling loose in tangled strands from a loose tie at the nape of his neck. Some strands clung damply to his jawline, darkened by sweat and ash.

He seemed taller, somehow. Leaner, yes, but there was something harder etched into his features, as if the softness of his youth had been carved away. His face was sharper, his eyes darker. He didn’t look like the same boy he was years ago. 

Gone was the polished image of a prince: no crown, no regal armor, no silken robes. Instead, he wore a plain, ash-stained shirt and dark trousers — indistinguishable from the other strange firebenders around, blending into the world. The boy clung tightly to the dark fabric of Zuko’s shirt, finding comfort in his presence.

Whispers rippled through the crowd.

“That’s the Fire Lord.”
“Why is he here?”
“Is it really him?”

Katara stood at the edge, frozen in place, stunned not only by the fact that he was here , of all places, but also by how quietly the crowd regarded him. Reverence mixed with disbelief. As if power couldn't bend to cradle a child.

She barely noticed someone stepping forward, hesitant, voice trembling slightly:

“My Lord, you shouldn’t… You shouldn’t be out here like this. It’s not safe. You don’t have to—”

Zuko didn’t look up.

“I want to,” he said simply, still focused on tending the boy’s wound.

Katara blinked, surprised by his calm resolve. Before she realized it, she had stepped forward until she was standing beside him. Their eyes met. For a heartbeat, the world seemed to stop. She was suddenly breathless, heart pounding fiercely in her chest. His eyes searched hers briefly, flickering with something buried beneath years of distance.

Katara looked away first, swallowing hard.

“Meet me when you’re done,” she said, voice low, trying to steady herself as she turned to leave.
“Don’t go. I’m done,” he called quietly. Rising to his feet, he wiped his hands on his worn shirt and gave the boy a gentle wave. The child smiled back.

She hesitated, then simply stared at him for a moment longer.

“Follow me.”

Without waiting for a response, Katara walked toward a nearby cabin, where a few waterbenders were quietly drinking tea and chatting.

Inside, she went straight to the sink, turned on the water, took Zuko’s hands in hers, and submerged them beneath the flowing stream. The others noticed and quickly gathered their things, leaving the room discreetly.

“It’s unhygienic to wipe dry blood on your clothes,” Katara said firmly.
“Oh. Sorry about that,” he replied, voice low.

An awkward silence fell between them after she let go of his hands.

He quickly washed them with soap nearby, then turned back to her.

“First of all, you have no right to aid my patients, no matter who you are. If you made a wrong move, you could’ve infected the boy’s wound,” she scolded.

“Your team didn’t stop me.”
“They were wrong. I’ll talk to them, too. But that does not make you right. How do you expect them to react to a famous person? Especially a ruler.”
“You don’t seem to care.”
“I don’t.” Katara sighed, “You know why.”

They stood in silence again. Katara waited, feeling like he should speak now, apologize, explain himself, just say anything. But the quiet stretched on and her thoughts grew louder. There was so much she wanted to say. Mostly sharp and bitter words that she’d kept bottled up. But he remained silent, steady — as if the weight of her silence didn’t crush him the way his did her.

Katara sighed, breaking the tension.

“What are you doing here?”
“I live here.”
“You know what I mean. Why aren’t you in your palace? In the capital?”
“After I read your letter, I felt like I should come and support you.”

Katara’s eyes narrowed slightly, annoyance flickering across her face.

“How can you support us? So far, you’ve done nothing.”
“I can offer you somewhere to stay — places more comfortable than this.”

She frowned at the idea.

“What about the citizens of this village? What about them? We’re not going with you. It’s easier to live next to the patients.”
“It should be a good thing that I have a new shelter near my home.”
“The other leaders won’t agree. We have to restore the village. There are houses our earthbenders and non-benders need to build.”
“I can help with that. I have a team of engineers and architects who can work with your benders. And I can try to convince them.”

Katara frowned again, wondering why he was being so stubborn. She walked toward the far end of the cabin.

“Come.”

He quickened his pace to catch up with her. Together, they left the cabin and headed toward the improvised meeting room where the leaders had gathered. Katara barged in.

Renjiro straightened in his seat, his brow furrowed. Mei Lin looked up sharply from the table, arms crossed. Nanook raised a single eyebrow, his expression unreadable.

"Finally," Renjiro said, his voice tight. "We heard shouting. What happened?"
"Is everyone alright?" Mei Lin added. "There was a commotion."

Katara didn’t answer right away. Mostly because she didn’t trust herself to speak calmly. And partly because the real reason hadn’t even stepped into the room yet. Then came the sound of boots behind her. Familiar, heavy steps. 

Zuko appeared in the doorway, tall and quiet, eyes scanning the room before settling on the others. And for a moment, everything else fell silent.

Mei Lin stood up. Renjiro shot to his feet and bowed.

"Fire Lord." The three said, almost in unison.

Nanook’s fingers curled slowly into a fist against the table.

Katara didn’t turn back around. Her pulse thundered in her ears. She hated that he looked so composed, like showing up in the middle of all this wasn’t strange or reckless or infuriating. She hated how he could walk into a room and act like time hadn’t passed.

"He’s the reason."

Zuko fully entered the room, standing next to Katara. Their shoulders were almost aligned, but he left space between them.

"Renjiro, you may rest."

After Zuko said that, Renjiro straightened and resumed his seat.

"Hello. I am Fire Lord Zuko, but you may call me by my first name."

It angered Katara that he introduced himself even though everyone knew who he was. Maybe she was just angry at him, though. Angry at his calm, his stillness, the way he kept his voice level while she could barely stay still.

“I am Nanook, and the one sitting beside me is Mei Lin. I assume you and Renjiro are familiar.”

Zuko nodded.

“It’s a pleasure meeting you.”
“Why are you here?” Mei Lin asked, directly.

Zuko explained thoroughly what he thought he could do for them.

"This wasn’t part of the plan," Nanook said calmly.

Zuko met his gaze with equal calm.

"I know. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything."

Mei Lin leaned back in her chair with a sigh, spinning a ring on her finger.

"Well, you did. We were finally getting somewhere before the shouting started. Now everyone’s too tense to think straight."

She didn’t sound angry — just annoyed.

Renjiro, who had resumed his seat after Zuko’s nod, spoke with quiet respect.

"The Fire Lord wouldn’t have come without good reason."

Katara let out a short, bitter laugh.

"Oh, he had a reason. Whether it’s good is another story."

Zuko looked at her then. She still wasn’t looking at him. But she felt the weight of his stare — heavy, direct. She’d forgotten how intense it could be. 

"Katara… I came—"
"Don’t."

Her voice was sharp.

She turned to face him now, arms folded tight across her chest. Her eyes locked on his. His expression barely shifted, but she saw it. The tiny flicker of hesitation, the flick of tension around his mouth. He was nervous. Of course he was. But he wouldn’t let it show. And she would take advantage of it.

"Don’t act like you’re doing anyone a favor by showing up uninvited. You think coming alone makes you noble? It makes you reckless."

Zuko didn’t flinch.

"I didn’t want this to be political. I came to talk. To fix—"
"You don’t get to decide when we talk. You lost that right two years ago."
"You wrote me a letter."
"For the Soma group. It wasn’t for the sake of our friendship."

The tension in the room sharpened. Nanook watched silently, unmoving. Renjiro lowered his gaze, thoughtful. Mei Lin raised her eyebrows slightly, interested now. Zuko took a breath, slower this time. Zuko hesitated, eyes flicking briefly to Nanook, then to Mei Lin and Renjiro. When he spoke again, his voice was steady.

"The palace has room. More than enough for everyone here."
"There’s a shelter compound just outside my house — it’s barely being used. They can stay there for as long as they need. And the engineers? They don’t have to stay in the cold. I’ll arrange transport to a village closer to Shinzui. Or to the capital itself, if needed."
"Why would you offer that?" Mei Lin questioned.
"Because they need it, these are my people. And because I have architects and engineers who can help. I’ll lend them to you."

Katara stared at him, arms still folded. Her voice was quieter now, but no less tense.

"What do you get out of it? You could choose other charity projects."

Zuko looked at her.

"Nothing."

Silence again. Mei Lin’s expression shifted, almost impressed. Nanook exchanged a brief look with Renjiro.

"You know what I think about this, but I’ll do whatever you agree on," Katara stated.

Renjiro was the first to speak up.

"I think we should accept it. I trust His Majesty, and this won’t do any harm to us."

Mei Lin nodded.

"I agree. More engineers would be great."

Katara looked at Nanook. He met her gaze with calm understanding.

"I’m sorry, Master Katara, but I’ll have to agree with Mei Lin and Renjiro."
"It's fine. Whatever’s better for everyone is what I’ll agree with." She let out a breath. "I should leave. I still have to lead my team before we change places."

Renjiro gave her a gentle nod.

"Let this shift be lighter than the last," Nanook said.

Katara gave them a small, appreciative smile. But even as she turned away, she could feel his eyes still on her.

“I’ll try.”

She left the canopy, and the door closed softly behind her.

The cold air hit her fast, biting against her cheeks, but Katara barely noticed. Her boots moved with purpose across the hardened ground, splashing through shallow puddles left by the previous fire extinguishing. Her shoulders were tight, jaw clenched, eyes burning — not from the cold, but out of frustration.

“Katara.”

His voice came from behind her. She didn’t stop walking.

“Katara, wait.”
“Don’t follow me.”

She didn’t raise her voice, but the threat beneath it was clear.

“I just want to finish what we started back there.”

That made her stop. She spun on her heel so fast he nearly crashed into her.

“We?” Her voice cracked through the still night like a whip. “What is there to finish, Zuko? You show up out of nowhere, throw everything into chaos, make promises like you didn’t spend years pushing me away… and now you want me to act like it’s normal?”

He slowed, stopping just a few steps from her, his breath visible in the freezing air.

“I didn’t mean to throw anything off,” he said. “I was trying to help. I want to make amends. I made a mistake.”

She let out a short, bitter laugh. It sounded nothing like her usual laugh. It was dry, empty, stripped of any warmth.

“A mistake?” she echoed. “You think just offering engineers and shelter fixes everything?”
“No. But it’s a start.”
“I don’t want a start.” Her voice rose. “I wanted something years ago. Or a year ago. Maybe even months. You knew where I was. You knew what I was doing. Back then I was still hoping you’d say something, send anything. Even if it was messy. Even if it was just to say goodbye.”

She shook her head, breath uneven.

“I would’ve forgiven you,” she said, more to herself than to him. “I would’ve forgiven you if you'd come to me then. I would’ve tried to understand, like I always did. But now? Now, I don’t even want to see your face.”

He stood quietly for a moment, eyes low. Then:

“You asked me why I came here out of all places, and what do I gain out of this, didn’t you?” He paused. “If you still want to know, I’ll tell you.”

She waited, arms folded tightly across her chest.

“I came because of you. What I was trying to get was you. It sickens me knowing you’re out of reach. That night, I was out of myself. I'm not sure if you'd understand.”

That landed heavier than she’d expected. For a second, something faltered in her eyes. But it angered her even more that he was trying to make it about his pain.

“Don’t play that card,” she snapped. “Especially not now. It sickens you? Took you two years to figure that out?”

She stepped forward, furious.

“You don’t get to walk in and decide when we’re friends again.” Her voice dropped. “You left, Zuko. You shut me out. You buried yourself in your palace, in your duties. You left me wondering if I’d done something wrong.”

Her voice cracked.

“You could’ve said anything. You could’ve told me you were overwhelmed, confused, grieving. And now what? You think one generous act makes up for two years of being a stranger?”

His voice was barely above a whisper.

“I never stopped thinking about any of it. About you.”
“Well, I did.”

She took another step closer, eyes locked onto his. And then, to her surprise, he backed away.

“Don’t come any closer,” he snapped, voice tight, strained.

She blinked. Confusion flickered across her face, then quickly turned into something sharper. Anger.

“Less than a minute ago, you were begging to talk,” she said. “Now you want me to back off?”

She stepped forward again, deliberately.

“What, are you afraid I’ll give you a matching scar?”

And without hesitation, she flicked her hand. A small stream of water lifted from a muddy puddle at their feet, swirling in the air between them. With a sharp, practiced motion, she drew it across her own cheek. The foundation smeared away in streaks of brown and pink. Underneath, her skin — warped. A thin, pale scar trailing just below her eye and down her jaw. Not disfiguring, but unmistakable.

Zuko froze.

Silence stretched between them, long and heavy. His mouth opened slightly.

“I… I didn’t know.”

Her expression didn’t soften.

“I thought you knew what throwing fire at someone’s face did.”

She could’ve said more — wanted to say more — but she stopped herself. Her breath hitched once, quietly, and she clenched her jaw instead. Then she pulled her hand down slowly, letting the water fall back to the ground.

“It’s small,” she said. “I’ve dealt with worse.”

She wiped the rest of the makeup from her face, exposing the full length of the scar. Then she turned away from him again, breathing hard. Shoulders high, fists clenched.

This time, he didn’t follow. He stood there, still as a statue, watching her disappear into the dark.

༄ ☾ ༄