Chapter Text
“Where does firebending come from?” Zuko plopped his school books down on the desk and slid into a chair opposite his uncle. “I mean, Teacher kind of explained it, but not really. I looked in the textbook too, but it was really confusing.”
Iroh looked up from the letter he was writing. Zuko didn’t get to see him very often, and he always enjoyed his uncle’s willingness to answer even the most ridiculous questions.
“Zuko, you’re only nine. Why in Agni would your teacher be explaining it now? You’re far too young to understand.”
"I am not!” Zuko crossed his arms and tilted his chin up, the very picture of defiance. “I’m smart enough!”
Iroh sighed, rolling his eyes. “I never said you weren’t. Bending is an advanced subject, and one that is difficult to fully understand.”
“Please explain it?” Zuko tried, giving Uncle his best Rabbit-puppy eyes. “Pleeeeeease?”
“Fine.” He huffed in annoyance, but the effect was ruined by his fond smile. “Bending, in essence, is just energy. An Airbender, for instance, takes the energy within the air and uses their own inner energy to move and change the direction of the wind.”
Zuko frowned, thinking hard. “...So an Earthbender uses their energy to interact with the energy of the rock?”
“Basically, yes.” Iroh nodded, a proud smile slipping across his face. He didn’t get to see his nephew very often, but each time he was reminded of his own son. Zuko would grow up to be greater than them all one day, and Iroh hoped that he would get to see it.
“But what about firebending?” Zuko asked, drawing Iroh’s attention back to the conversation at hand. “I mean, we don’t bend the fire that is already there, we make fire. Why is it different?”
“An excellent question, Prince Zuko. Firebending works a little differently. Instead of using the energy inside to influence the energy outside, you push your inner energy outward, directing it in the form of fire.”
“That’s why Azula can make lightning? Because she has stronger energy?” Zuko’s eyes widened, and he bounced up and down in his seat. Iroh grinned. Young children were so excitable.
“Almost, but not quite. Azula can bend fire because she has a different type of energy. It’s still Firebending energy, but it’s… it’s more like a subset, it that makes sense.”
Zuko suddenly turned serious, grin turning to a frown of concentration. “What else could you make? If you had the right type of energy, I mean. Could you learn to bend anything?”
Iroh thought for a moment, then reached for a new sheet of paper. “Look,” He said, drawing the four element’s symbols. “Water, Earth, Air, and Fire.”
Zuko nodded along. “Yeah, the four elements. What about them?”
“Each element has a different type of energy that is associated with that type of bending. Waterbenders have a different energy, or Chi, than Earthbenders, and so on. Now, as you pointed out earlier, a select few Firebenders can bend lightning as well. Most are born with this innate ability, though some argue that there is a way to learn. Waterbenders have two types of energy as well, there is another kind of Chi that lets a Waterbender use their bending to heal.”
Iroh drew a large circle that encapsulated all four of the elements. “Now, some experts say that there is another element, energy itself.”
Zuko stared at him blankly. “I don’t get it.”
“They say that Energybending is the purest form of bending, and that very few can access the raw form of energy needed to bend it.”
“What could you do with Energybending?”
Iroh frowned, leaning back in his seat. They had entered the realm of theoretical bending, and, to be truthful, he didn’t know much about the subject. “Well, the theory goes that you could transfer and interact with someone’s innate Chi with Energybending, though I don’t know how that would work.”
“That sounds really cool.” Zuko said, and Iroh could see the gleam in his eyes as he imagined himself with all the power in the world.
“There’s one more theory.” Iroh said, shading the outside of the large circle. “See this, outside the circle?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, there is this idea that there is the opposite of Energybending, called Darkbending.”
Zuko wrinkled his nose in disgust. “First, that’s a terrible name. Second, that makes no sense.”
“Think of it this way. Water and Fire are opposites, right?”
“Yeah, and Earth and Air.”
“Well, it stands to reason that…” Iroh trailed off, letting Zuko have the chance to figure it out for himself.
“Oh!” Zuko’s face lit up in a grin. “That Energybending would need an opposite too! To balance it out!”
“Right. Though I do agree, Darkbending is an absolutely terrible name.”
“What does it do?”
“Well…” Iroh tried to think of a tactful way to phrase it, but couldn't find anything. “If Energybending is life, and Darkbending is its opposite, then Darkbending is…”
“Death,” Zuko said solemnly.
Iroh nodded. “Yes. Keep in mind, though, this is all theoretical. None of this has been proven, and it may not exist at all.”
Zuko inclined his head in respect. “Thank you, Uncle.” He gathered his school books and stood, still lost in thought.
“Oh, and Zuko?” Iroh called as Zuko opened the door to go. Zuko looked back expectantly. Iroh rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Just… Don’t tell your mother I told you about this. I don’t want her thinking I’m a bad influence.”
Zuko grinned. “Don’t worry, it’s our little secret.”
Iroh smiled back. “Of course. Our little secret.”
***
“So what’s wrong with your bending?” Sokka sat down next to Zuko, ignoring the lingering doubts that Zuko didn’t want him there.
Zuko sighed, avoiding eye contact, which Sokka was perfectly fine with. Ever since Combustion Man, he had found himself far less willing to look people in the eye, as if they would somehow see the monster lurking just underneath his skin.
“It’s fine,” Zuko said, wrapping his arms around himself.
“Clearly it’s not. Katara told me about it. She said that your flames were weak, and that’s probably not just from your injuries.” He was probably being too blunt about the whole thing, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. It felt like all his humor had drained away, leaving only a cold shell of cruel sarcasm.
Zuko was silent for a moment, and Sokka took the silence as a chance to gaze at the sunset. It almost wasn’t fair, he thought, that the world continued to be beautiful when there was so much ugliness contained within. He had seen firsthand the despair, the death, the cruelty that this world held, and the thin veil of beauty wouldn’t do much to ease his troubled mind.
“You’re right. There’s something wrong with my bending, and I don’t know how to fix it.”
Sokka looked up. Zuko was staring into the distance, clearly lost in thought.
“Well, how do we figure out how to fix it?”
Zuko gave a little half-shrug. “I don’t know. I don’t even know if it can be fixed.”
“I don’t know either. Katara and I never really got an education about Bending. All I really know is that you guys can do cool stuff and I can’t.”
“What do you mean, you can’t do cool stuff?” Zuko finally looked up, meeting Sokka’s eyes. “You do plenty of cool stuff. I couldn’t come up with half of the ideas you do.”
Sokka shrugged, trying to crush the small seed of warmth that blossomed in his chest. “Not really, none of my ideas work.”
“That’s not true.” Zuko argued, voice growing in intensity. “Sokka, you’re a really important member of this team. Without you, Aang would have been captured many times over.”
“I don’t know.” Sokka broke eye contact, staring at the floor instead. “I’m always a liability in battle.”
Zuko groaned, closing his eyes. “I’m really not the one to give pep talks, Sokka. I may be the only person more useless than you think you are.”
Sokka paused. What did Zuko just say?
For as long as he could remember, Sokka had always been the butt of the joke. Oh look, Sokka’s hungry again. Oh look, Sokka just fell off that Ostrich-horse. Oh look, Sokka’s always such a bumbling fool. He tried to act self-confident, but in reality, he was the one who others only kept around for comedic relief.
He had never really been confident in his ability and worth, and had just sort of assumed that if you were a bender, you automatically knew you were awesome.
But here was Zuko, an extremely skilled bender – well, usually, anyway – and not to mention his prowess with the Dao swords. He was even a prince, for goodness sake! And he thought he was useless?
“Zuko, you’re not–” He started to say, but Zuko cut him off.
“Don’t even bother, Sokka, it’s not worth it. I’m pathetic, and weak, and stupid, and cowardly, and–” He trailed off, as if just realizing what he was saying. “-And I shouldn’t have said that. Sorry.”
“No, no, don’t be. I feel the same way.”
They lapsed into silence, a kind of mutual understanding falling comfortably between them. They both knew what they thought of themselves, and they both knew what the other would say about it. And that was enough.
***
Toph found Katara sitting on the edge of the temple, feet dangling into the abyss. Toph shuddered to think of what it would feel like to dangle her own feet off into nothingness. She preferred solid ground, thank you very much. Still, she sat beside Katara, tucking her legs under her.
“Soooo… What’s up?” She asked, bending her space rock off her arm and fiddling with it.
“What’s up?” Katara snarled, and Toph pursed her lips. Maybe calming Katara down would be harder than she thought. “Why don’t you ask your friend?” She all but spit out the word, and Toph nearly groaned. She really should have seen this coming.
“Yeah, Katara, he’s my friend, but so are you.”
“Sure, whatever you say.” Katara didn’t sound convinced, she sounded angry. Of course.
“Katara…”
Katara crossed her arms. “Nope, I don’t want to hear it.”
“Well, what do you want me to say?” Toph threw her hands in the air for emphasis, nearly dropping her space bracelet. “Do you want me to hate Zuko like the rest of you? Is that it? Do you just want me to agree with everything you say like some kind of echo?”
“What? No, of course not.”
“I don’t know, that’s kinda how it seems to me. It’s like you’re trying to control everyone on the team!”
Katara was quiet, shocked into silence, but Toph wasn’t about to stop now. She was fine with Katara being a little controlling, but this had gone too far.
“Listen, Katara, I’m old enough to make my own decisions. We all are. Even Momo doesn’t need instructions on every little detail! You can’t control what everyone else thinks of Zuko just because you hate him. I get it, you’ve got history. I’m not even going to mention that. All I’m saying is that you need to let us draw our own conclusions.”
“I…”
Toph sighed, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Katara, we’re still friends. We’re never not going to be friends. You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not.”
“I’m not going to like Zuko just because you do.” Katara said, more defensive than angry.
Toph nodded. “I’m not expecting you to. All I want is for you to be civil to all my friends, Zuko included.”
Katara mulled the words over, and comfortable silence fell between them.
“Okay,” Katara said finally. “I’ll try.”
Toph grinned. Who said she wasn’t good at emotions?
***
“I think I have a theory.” Zuko said at dinner that night. “About why my Firebending isn’t working.”
“Okay, what is it?” Sokka scooped up rice into his bowl and grabbed a fruit. They were running low on rations, and everyone was getting sick of the plain meals.
“Well, most of my Firebending came from rage.” Zuko rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. It wasn’t something that he was proud to admit, especially since he was still trying to prove himself, that he wasn’t that person anymore. “And now that I’m not angry, well…”
“How do we fix it?” Aang asked, and Zuko shrugged.
“I guess I don’t know. I’ve tried focusing on bending from the breath, but it doesn’t seem to help.”
“Ooh!” Toph perked up from where she was sitting on a rock, amusing herself by bending little earth-mazes for bugs to frantically try to escape. “Have you tried the source?”
There was a moment of silence where everyone stared at her, uncomprehending.
“Oh come on.” Toph rolled her eyes at their blank stares. “The source? Where bending first came from?”
There was a collective chorus of Ooooohs from the team.
“Dragons are the source of Firebending, right?” Aang asked.
“Yeah.” Zuko sighed, shifting uneasily.
Toph and Katara had cornered him earlier that day and demanded to give him a medical checkup. Zuko was rather surprised that Katara had agreed to come anywhere near him, but apparently Toph was more persuasive than he had thought. He and Katara had barely spoken one word during the whole checkup, leading to a very uncomfortable and more than awkward situation.
His leg was on the way to healing – Toph had bent a stone cast for it, and while it was hard to walk, had helped the healing process tremendously – and his fever had been gone for two days.
His side, however, was an entirely different story. It had scabbed over, but the infection still lurked under the skin, ready to burst out. Sometimes he grew dizzy and blacked out for a few seconds, which Katara said was due to blood loss.
He was still in pain, but it was manageable, and as long as he didn’t do anything to aggravate his wounds, they would heal completely in two weeks.
But of course, he couldn’t just do nothing, so he played down the pain and continued on.
“There’s a problem, though,” He said, focusing back on the conversation. “The Dragons are extinct.”
“What? How?” Aang asked. “There were so many in my time, what happened to them?”
Zuko grimaced. “They were hunted for sport – no, for honor. It was the highest honor you could receive, to be the killer of a mighty dragon. My uncle was the one to kill the last dragons.”
Silence fell around the campfire, along with a heavy air of lost hope. Without Zuko being able to firebend, there was no way for Aang to learn to firebend, and then….
Well, no one wanted to think of what would happen then.
“That’s okay.” Aang said, trying to inject as much optimism into his voice as possible. “I don’t need to learn firebending. I have the other three. That’ll be enough!”
“No, Twinkle-toes.” Toph said, voice flat. “It’s not. Besides, you still have to kill the Firelord.”
“I…” Aang hunched into himself, trailing off miserably.
Zuko knew that he was still struggling with the idea of killing the Firelord, but he also knew that eventually, Aang would have to make up his mind. Fulfill the duties of the Avatar, or run away from his role yet again.
Then a sudden thought struck him, and he sat up a little straighter as a rebellious part of him filled with hope yet again. “Maybe it’s not all lost,” He said, “There is an ancient civilization, the sun warriors, that studied the art of Firebending directly from the Dragons. They died out a long time ago, but their city should still be there. Maybe we can still learn something.”
“Really?” Aang perked up immediately, and Zuko was struck once more just how young Aang was. He hadn’t grown up during the war, he hadn’t been scarred permanently from all the things Zuko had seen.
As the Crown Prince, Zuko had been taught in all the ways of the Firelord. Politics and Government, but also war. He had been forced to watch more Agni Kai’s than he could count, each fight ending with a severely injured Firebender, or, sometimes, even dead. He had attended mass executions of rebels. Sometimes, in his dreams, he heard the screams of the rebels as their skin burned and melted, their screams changing first from fear to pain, then agony, and finally, trailing off into a deafening silence, their families sobbing as they watched.
There were things he would never forget as long as he lived, and he knew that Aang, while not entirely naive to the ways of war, didn’t have any idea of the things people were capable of. The things that good people were capable of.
He shook his head, breaking himself out of the dreadful memories. “Hopefully we’ll learn enough to fix my bending. Otherwise, you’ll have to find another way to defeat the Firelord.”