Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It starts, always, with fire and wind.

It begins the way most tragedies do—with a promise made in fire, and broken in silence.

There are cities carved from stone and soot, where the sky burns orange from forges that never sleep.

There were schools that taught peace. There were temples hidden in the clouds that taught balance.

And then there was Blue Lock’s War College.

Hidden in the canyon that had known too many battles, it trained the next generation of warriors—benders and strategists, heirs and mercenaries. Some came by legacy. Some by force. Some by choice.

And some, like the Airbenders, came because they want the war to be over and resolved through peace.

It’s not a place for the gentle.

They arrive in the spring of their twenty-first year, cloaked in ivory and wind, to learn how to defend in a world that only speaks in terms of conquest. Their place is not at the front lines, not by tradition. They heal. They shield. They stand behind the flames.

This year, one of them does not.

This year, they bring someone who does not bow.

Prince Reo Mikage was born of fire and expectation. Reo had never lost a duel. Not once. Not in years of training halls lit by blue flame and judged by his fathers eyes. His fire bending was elegant, brutal, perfect. Every breath he takes carries the weight of a dynasty. His steps are lined with gold and grief, his power honed to a precision that leaves even stone scorched in his wake.

The dragon tattoo winds down Reo’s spine in intricate coils, its body stretched long and sinuous, inked in deep crimson with veins of black bleeding through its scales like veins of fire. Its head rests just below the nape of his neck, jaws parted in a silent snarl, while its tail curls sharply at the base of his back—unflinching, eternal. The wings stretch over his shoulder blades like scars that never learned to heal.

It’s not just a symbol. It’s a lineage.

Before they were extinct, dragons were the first firebenders—ancient, sacred, and untamed. They didn’t teach firebending so much as breathe it, the way a heartbeat breathes life. In the oldest scrolls, dragons weren’t seen as beasts—they were seen as the source, the living embodiment of flame and spirit. To wear one on your back meant you carried that legacy. That burden.

Reo was fourteen when his father ordered the ink.

It was just after his first kill.

The dragon that meant to mark the moment fire left his hands—and didn’t come back empty.

He is brilliance made flesh. Untouchable. Unyielding. Built to conquer.

He was born for the throne, for command, for glory.

But he was not born for someone like Nagi Seishiro.

Nagi didn’t care about bloodlines or empires. He barely cared about training. He drifted through the world like wind through high branches—quiet, slow, impossible to pin down.

He didn’t arrive at the war college to become great. He didn’t dream of battle, or bending glory, or to be recognized by Reo’s father for his own exceptional bending. He doesn’t ask for anything he’s given once he arrives.

Nagi doesn’t burn. He drifts. He blinks. He floats. He speaks when necessary. He moves when pushed. He learns like a stone learns the shape of water—passively, gradually, seemingly without effort. His Airbending is slow and minimal, sometimes lazy, sometimes unsettling. He doesn’t strike often, but when he does, it’s surgical. Precise. As if his body knew what to do long before his mind decided to act.

He did not fight unless he had too. Not unless he really has no other option. He does not care for politics or titles or power. He forgets the names of generals—except for one. He sleeps through debriefs. He yawns during duels. He cares for every little—except for Reo, and the quiet.

And when he does act, it is not wind—it’s the eye of the storm collapsing inward. Quiet, terrifying, absolute. He once redirected a cyclone with a flick of his wrist and no one remembers if he meant to do it or not. He once brought down three rogue firebenders in five seconds then ran to save his friends, desperate for everyone to live during the invasion.

Nagi is all a sense. Not empty, not hollow—just not interested in pretending to be sharp or loud or brilliant.

But the truth is, he is brilliant. He just doesn’t announce it.

He’s soft-spoken, and strange. Thoughtful in ways no one expects.

He doesn’t lead, but people still follow. Because where Nagi stands still, everything else seems to settle. He's calm in a world gone red with flame and war and screaming.

Nagi is here to win, and to protect someone who somehow becomes the most important person in his life. And if someone hurts that person—well.

Then the wind will stop drifting.

And it will collapse.

This is the story of two boys raised in opposite silences.

One molded by expectation. The son of fire, born into lineage and legacy, carved by shape by history’s red-hot hands. trained to lead before he could speak without stuttering. Taught that duty meant obedience. That love was something you earned with victories. That power was a burden passed down by heirloom blades—shined, sharpened, sheathed in flesh.

The other shaped by distance. Not from power, but from wanting it. A boy who drifted sideways through the world like wind through treetops—unconcerned with empire, lineage, or the weight of names. Nagi Seishiro never wanted to be part of any war. He was born with the sky in his lungs, and a mind so quiet it made people nervous. He didn’t chase anything—except silence. Except stillness. Except, maybe, the boy with fire at his fingertips and thunder in his voice.

And still, they find each other.

In the corridors between command and collapse. In sparring matches where fire meets air and neither of them pulls back. In moments stolen between fire drills and ancient prophecies, where hands meet not in battle but in understanding. In the quiet act of choosing each other, over and over, in a world that demands blood first and tenderness never.

They never find each other in defiance. In deviation. In arguments that leave relics shattered on the floor and kisses that taste like lightning before rain.

Because this is not a war story. Not really.

This is a story about refusal. About turning away from destinies carved into their backs like tattoos. About fighting not or thrones or balance or banners—but for the right to be soft in a world that taught them sharpness.

It’s a story about breaking the cycle before it breaks you. About the ache of being known. About tanning at the edge of a battlefield and asking, is this al there is? And hearing someone say, no, there’s still me.

It’s about the one person you’d burn the world for—or surrender your lineage to protect.

Reo Mikage would burn the world down for Nagi Seishiro. Not for power. Not for glory. But because Nagi never asked him to be anyone else. Because Nagi looks at him and sees a person, not a future Fire Lord. Because Nagi was never afraid of his fire.

And Nagi—Nagi would let the wind die in his lungs if it meant Reo could live.

Even if he never says it out loud.

They were storm and ember.

The eye and the fire.

And when they move together, the world holds its breath.

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Chapter Text

Year Three, Week One — Blue Lock War College, Central Courtyard

The courtyard was sweltering. It was uncomfortably hot to anybody walking around that wasn’t a Firebender or couldn’t regulate their temperature, like a Waterbender. The air was humid, clothes clung to skin, sweat drips to the grass.

Of course it was. Mid morning fire drills always left the sky tasting like ash, and the sandstone walls of the War College trapped heat like it was sacred. Reo liked it that way—heat was power. It moved fast, reacted instantly, never hesitated. Just like him.

He was finishing his cooldown forms when he saw them.

The Airbenders.

Reo stops in his tracks the moment he spots them, excitement flowing through his veins.

They’re finally here.

This is how history is made.

New arrivals. Guests, technically. Not warriors, not soldiers. They didn’t train for war—not until they turned twenty-one and got sent here with wide eyes and quiet smiles with no understanding of what it meant to fight. They’re here to support only.

Reo thinks that the four of them that arrived here had to be pushed, because there’s no way they would be excited to jump into the middle of a war. Almost everybody who attends this place has been affected or damaged by the war somehow. There’s no way. Reo’s father barely explained to him how he got them here, he just did.

They’ve never bowed to following the Fire Nation like the Waterbenders and Earthbenders, so Reo wonders what on earth got them here.

They’d just landed. They didn’t march, they drifted in. Where the Firebenders came with sparks, Waterbenders with waves, and the Earthbenders with thunder, the Airbenders didn’t even raise their voices. That made people nervous.

Reo Mikage didn’t care, though.

He leaned against the rail on the upper balcony of the training yard, arms folded, smirking. His royal insignia—a maroon colored red dragon— glinted in the sun. Around him, murmurs buzzed—waterbenders whispering, earthbenders frowning, and firebenders laughing behind hands.

Reo had a different reaction. He was to make peace with everyone here since he was the rightful heir to the flame.

“The Airbenders will be arriving this week. You must make allies with them, Reo. They are here to aid us in the war. They’re a powerful asset. Very few of them specialize in combat—the most they do is fight to defend their homeland. However, they’ve graciously agreed to help us. This is our chance to get the upper hand. Be good to them.”

His fathers words ring through his ears all over again. This was their chance to get the upper hand in the war. The enemy does not know anything about the Airbenders. There’s not a single Airbender on the opposite side. Reo smirks, this will be quite a surprise if he can convince at least one of them to come on the front lines with him.

Reo’s eyes narrow on one of the new arrivals that piques his interest.

White-haired. Sleepy-eyed. A posture like he hadn’t noticed the war college was a war college. He walked like he was bored of gravity. He reminds Reo of when a child would drag their feet like they didn’t want to be somewhere.

”Well, well,” Reo muttered. “Didn’t know ghosts could get drafted.”

He pushed off the railing and headed down, boots clacking confidently on the stone. The moment he stepped into the circle of attention, conversation quieted. People always watched Reo, whether they hated him, wanted him, or feared him.

For now, he liked it that way. He held his chin high wherever he went. The reputation his father built for him to be the perfect bender and heir did him a lot of favors around here—especially since the Fire Nation owns this school.

He stopped in front of the white-haired Airbender, who blinked at him like he’d just noticed someone was talking.

“You’re one of the new recruits,” Reo said, voice honey-slick with a challenge. “Let me guess—you’re here to meditate us into victory?”

The Airbender tilted his head slightly. “No,” he said. “I’m just here.”

Reo blinked. “Just here?”

”Yeah” A shrug. “Looked interesting.”

Reo scoffed. “You think war is interesting?”

”Dunno,” he scratched his head. “Haven’t tried it yet.”

That made Reo laugh—sharp, amused, a little dangerous. “You’ve got balls, I’ll give you that.”

“Don’t need them,” the Airbender murmured, and before Reo could ask what that meant, the air shifted.

Reo barely registered the movement before he felt it: a sudden vacuum, then a snap of pressure like the breath between lightning and thunder. He stumbled back a step, flames sparking reflexively at his fingertips. His coat whipped against his legs from wind that hadn’t been there a second ago.

The Airbender hadn’t moved—all he did was raise one singular eyebrow.

Reo stared at him, heart hammering. He’s never actually encountered an Airbender before. He’s never seen one in the flesh. He’s heard all about them, the peacemakers, but he’s never felt their wind before. He’s never felt wind that does not bow.

This must be one of the few trained in combat.

Wow.

Reo had actually felt frightened for just a moment.

That’s exciting. Reo loves challenges.

The other boy looked down at him lazily, like he was still debating whether this was worth his time.

“… What’s your name?” Reo asked, quieter now.

”Nagi Seishiro.”

That was it. No honorifics. No bow. Just a name. Just the wind.

Reo smiles, wide and sharp, Iike a match had just struck. ”Fine, Nagi. I’m the Fire Nation Prince Reo Mikage. Let’s see if you’re still just here when I’m leading the front line.”

Nagi stares at him for a moment, watching him, like he’s seeing something that Reo doesn’t. His head tilts, he looks directly into Reo’s eyes, making Reo a bit uncomfortable even if he doesn’t show it. Then, he looks away, moving on three other Airbenders who greet him with smiles.

And Reo realized—for the first time in years—he wasn’t sure if someone had just ignored him.. or completely seen right through him.

“I can’t believe you almost suffocated Prince Reo Mikage.” Bachira’s loud, boisterous voice is in his ears now while they walk to their dorms. “That’s like—that’s crazy, Nagi. I wouldn’t even do that.”

Bachira is Nagi’s closest friend and has been since they were children, he understands him the best, reads between the lines just like Nagi does. Bachira is whimsical, fluid, more of a… chaotic-good type of person. He brings excitement to places he enters and every door he pushes open, it doesn’t matter where.

They became closer once they were put in combat training for defensive support at a young age. Not to intentionally kill others, but to defend their homeland from potential threats.

“He was being loud and cocky.” Nagi explains like it’s nothing. “I don’t like people like that.”

It’s exactly why Airbenders don’t correspond much with the Fire Nation. They get along more with Waterbenders and sometimes Earthbenders. The cockiness of the Fire Nation throws them off.

Reo Mikage, it seems, is the perfect example of that. He’s the epitome of that.

On the outside.

Nagi thinks there’s more to the prince than leading the front lines.

Isagi walks on his other side, looking down at the paper that maps their walk to their dorm they’ll be staying in. “I’ve heard he’s one of the top of his class, and adapts quickly to anything thrown at him. He’s meant to be at the front lines as soon as he graduates—but he’s been standing by his father every single time they invade. So I guess he’s already there.”

Then, there’s Isagi. He’s very strategic with his bending and who he interacts with despite being constantly curious. Isagi isn’t a very loud person like Bachira, but he’s not quiet like Nagi. He’s always been between. But the one thing he’s always been is competitive, and he pushes.

The moment Isagi joined the defense training, he pushed Nagi to be better. Sure, Nagi didn’t directly have a reason to be doing it—he was just bored and needed something to pass the time—but Isagi ignited something within Nagi. The want to be better. The desire to have a purpose.

When they got the invitation to come to Blue Lock War College to aid in the war, Isagi is the one who pushed him, Bachira, and Zantetsu to help. Four Airbenders is more than enough for defense.

Nagi didn’t understand why Isagi pushed them to come here. They don’t fight. Nagi doesn’t like war, he doesn’t care for fighting. If it requires violence, then it’s not worth it. Ever. Not by Nagi’s hands.

That Reo guy… he seems to be the exact opposite of everything Nagi believes in.

Bachira’s eyebrows raise, “well of course he is, he’s not the prince for nothing. Do you think any of us will work with him?”

”Considering only four of us are trained in combat, it’ll probably be us and Zantetsu—speaking of, did you guys see where he went?”

Nagi shrugs. He walks with his fingers locked behind his back, normal posture to keep himself from moving around too much. Bachira and Isagi do it, too. “Probably exploring something. You know how he is.”

The last piece to their puzzle is Zantetsu. He was the last to join their group, but ultimately was one who looked out for all of them. He’s very smart, despite all of their teasing. He’s very glad to fit in somewhere, and Nagi understands that part all too well.

“Uh… I think we go right?” Isagi asks, holding the map for Nagi and Bachira to read. “This college layout is confusing.”

“Isagi, you’re holding it the wrong way.”

”Oh, oops.”

He turns it and still can’t find their way. Before Nagi can roll his eyes and grab it, somebody else grabs their attention by the sound of their footsteps first and then a voice.

“If you guys are looking for the north dorms, you gotta go left to get there.”

Instantly, Nagi realizes that there’s a waterbender in front of him. There’s always an easy tell, and it’s always the calmness of the person's voice. This person has calm eyes and a calm demeanor, and he offers them a gentle smile as he tucks a strand of red hair behind his ear that must’ve fallen out of the braid in his hair.

“My name is Chigiri Hyoma, Waterbender. You guys must be new here.” He walks up to them and holds his hand out to Isagi, “I’ll take a look at that for you and get you to where you need to go. You guys ever been to an academy before?”

Isagi shakes his head. “Nope, just our land and that’s it. We’ve had teachers, but never at an official big academy like this.”

Chigiri nods, “well, this place is way different than all of that, I bet.”

”It’s big,” Bachira says. “There’s so many people here. We met the prince on the way in. The rumors were right, Firebenders are strange.”

”He’s a good guy once you get past the prince part.” Chigiri starts to walk, and the three of them follow. “So, do you guys have your class schedule yet?”

”We do. They gave them to us along with the map.” The bag starts to weigh heavy on Bachira’s shoulders. He looks over Chigiri’s blue training outfit. “Do we get cool outfits like that too?”

”They should already be in your dorms. Since there’s four of you here, I think you guys get your own individual rooms. So you’re lucky in that department. The only other person who has their own room is the prince, and that’s because he’s high status.”

The Fire Nation is the only one who has a structured monarchy that follows a bloodline only. Airbenders, Waterbenders, and Earthbenders have elders that simply agree or disagree on what to do when it comes to big decisions—but the three of them live in peace, normally, before the war started. Now, with an agreement between them, they respond to the Fire Nation because that’s the quadrant that most benders are born into.

They have the highest population and, therefore, the largest army to defend against the Rogues.

Chigiri tells them more about the school, and Zantetsu finally finds them again once they reach their dorms. The school was strictly for academics before the war started, and after the war started—the first, detrimental strike that killed dozens—it was turned into a military academy.

Nagi listens, he just doesn’t actively listen to everything Chigiri says. He uses his key to open the door to his dorm, and he separates from his friends to look around.

Everything is made of stone. The room is basic with a comfortable bed in the center, a closet big enough to hold a single person's clothes, and the flags from each Bending Quadrant are on the wall. There’s a desk, and plenty of space for Nagi to set up all of his belongings.

Truthfully, he didn’t bring much. He won’t need all of this space.

Setting his bag on the desk, Nagi pulls out his class list since Bachira was interested in talking about his. He thinks they have the same schedule, just split at different times.

First — Elemental Combat and Coordination Tactics

Second — War History and Conflict Analysis

Third — Strategic Theory and Battlefield Tactics

Forth — Ethics of Power

Fifth — Spirit Theory and Inner Discipline

Sixth — Crisis and Survival Training

Seventh — United Forces Protocol

Spirit Theory and Inner Discipline will be the only one Nagi thinks won’t be too difficult. As for everything else, this is his first time entering the war scene, everyone else has already been here.

If he wants to make sure his home doesn’t burn to the ground, or anyone else’s home, he has to make it through these rigorous courses.

“Hey, Nagi!” Bachira bounces into his door frame, his smile and eyes as bright as the shining sun, and he’s changed into the school uniform that they were given. “Come on, hurry up and change so we can get something to eat!”

“Sure. Close my door.”

”On it!”

When Nagi changes into the school training uniform, he realizes very quickly that it’s extremely different than the outfit he came here in.

The uniform is a military jacket and pants that are a deep matte black, accented with soft platinum white lines that trace subtle spiral patterns to symbolize wind currents. The material is lightweight and easy enough to move in. Under the military black jacket is a long sleeved black compression shirt—black, breathable, and almost seamless. It clings to him and fits very well, he doesn’t feel claustrophobic. The pants are reinforced at the knees, and he assumes that’s to be a cushion to land on. His boots are jet black and made of lightweight leather and have grooves to solidify footwork.

There’s optional armor, but Nagi doesn’t wear it. He sets that aside. Too much weight makes things harder to work with.

Now that he has the uniform on, he thinks of Chigiri’s outfit. It’s the same as his except he doesn’t have white lines. Instead, his lines are blue, and the design is in waves. He also has blue beads in his hair, styles exactly how it is with most Waterbenders. He also saw some of the Earthbenders on the way in—their uniform was the same with the exception that their lining was brown and they had mountains.

He thinks of Reo’s and the rest of the Firebenders. His was the same as Nagi’s with the exception that his is red, and there’s a fire symbol on his. He has his armor plating on, the chest plate, to deflect attacks that slip past his fire. He wore gloves. Nagi wonders if his hands burn. His family crest is on his chest as well.

Nagi looks down at the gloves that are supplied, and he takes them, putting them in his pocket. Those might come in handy if he’s going to be working with fire.

He opens the door and joins Bachira, Zantetsu, Isagi, and their new friend Chigiri.

General Renzai is a stern, war-hardened figure of the Fire Nation.

Nagi’s heard about the man. He’s heard of all the massacres and burning buildings. He doesn’t respect it at all.

“You’re not gonna pay attention?” Bachira asks.

“Why should I? You guys dragged me here.” Nagi takes another bite of his food.

Bachira lowers his voice, “because you’re the strongest bender in our entire temple, that’s why. We could do some good here, you know.”

Nagi huffs and doesn’t say anything more. He takes another bite of his food as General Renzai makes his way to the front of the cafeteria where all students are currently gathered.

Chatter dies down immediately. Out of respect, Nagi stops eating and sits up to face the general since their table is right in front. He may not want to be here, but he’s always been taught to show respect to anyone higher than he is. Isagi, Bachira, and Zantetsu do the same.

“War is not a matter of victory. It’s a matter of survival.” General Renzai speaks, voice echoing through the entire cafeteria. “You have all been chosen because you have something that most do not—an edge. You are fast, brutal, or clever. Some of you weird flame. Some stone. some strike with wind or pull with water. It doesn’t matter. What you must become here is not a bender or a fighter—but a weapon that thinks.”

A weapon, huh?

Nagi’s eyes drift and his eyes lock onto a familiar head to purple hair in the midst of everyone else.

Prince Reo Mikage sits front and center, watching the General speak with utmost respect and undivided attention. He’s at the front of his table surrounded by others in the Fire Nation and a few water benders. He’s got one leg crossed over the other, one elbow on the table.

”This institution exists for one purpose: to prepare you for war. Not to glorify it. Not to prolong it. To end it.” General Renzai lowers voice just enough to carry weight after pausing. “To our newest arrivals—the Airbenders—I know you come from temples and teachings that frown upon violence. I will not mock that. But understand this: peace does not survive in a world that will not fight for it.”

Nagi’s nails dig into the wooden table. He might get a splinter.

He feels eyes on him, and his eye drift swiftly over to the cause.

Reo.

He’s staring at him with interest again. Maybe he’s replaying their first and only interaction in his mind just like Nagi is. Nagi thinks he’s arrogant but interesting. How is it that a prince is so confident, yet hiding something?

Nagi’s always been good at reading people around him. He’s been trained to read people's body language and movement for so long—every Airbender has. They’re not fighters, so they learn to overpower in a mental way.

“Here, you will learn to fight with purpose. Not for conquest. Not for ego. For the ones behind you. For the ones who cannot raise their fists. You will be trained to stand between destruction and mercy—and to know the line where one must become the other.”

General Renzai steps back, his gaze sweeping over every individual in the cafeteria. His eyes linger on Reo for a second, and then looks back at everyone else.

“You may not like what this place makes you. But you will become necessary. And if you do it right… you may even become good.” He tilts his chin up, “welcome to War College.”

After the General leaves, the students slip right back into easy conversation. Nagi looks back at the prince, who’s still looking at him even while he’s interacting with his table.

They simply stare at each other across a sea of noise and flame-colored uniforms, two figures outlines in opposing forces—wind and fire—trying to see who will blink first.

Reo smiles slowly, leaning in just a little further forward like he’s plotting his next move. His elbow stays propped up, but his fingers drum once against the table's edge. Casual. Controlled. Calculated.

Nagi doesn’t return the expression. Instead, his eyes narrow ever so slightly. He’s still, not out of respect, but out of practiced disinterest. A quiet refusal to give more energy than necessary.

Nagi tilts his head to the left side, wondering if Reo has some sort of problem with him. Maybe Reo knows he doesn’t fight. Maybe Reo thinks that Nagi is lesser because he doesn’t fight, and doesn’t want to fight.

He doesn’t care. Reo’s just a prince that’s in way over his head.

Nagi huffs and breaks eye contact first, going right back to eating and listening to Bachira and Isagi bicker back and forth while Zantetsu attempts to soothe them.

It doesn’t work.

The library is quiet.

Nagi likes quiet.

He decided to go alone just because he likes to be alone. Nagi’s explored a lot of the north quadrant, and the library is beautiful. It’s huge, big enough to hold every single student in here with enough room for each of them to comfortably lay down and sprawl out.

The glass was all stained, so the inside was multi-colored in blue, green, and pink. There’s three floors to this library, and Nagi’s now up at the third floor. When he walks around the outer layer, he comes across a large plaque.

It’s the rules to the school. There’s another copy in his room on the wall, it’s something all students need to memorize.

But this one is rooted in gold and singed at the edges. That makes Nagi think that this is the original copy.

Blue Lock War College: Code of Conduct

1. Forbidden Bending is Grounds for Expulsion

   1. No lightning, blood, combustion, or spirit manipulation.

   2. Use of any of these in training or combat is considered a war crime-in-progress.

   3. “I lost control” is not a defense.

2. Combat Training Must Be Supervised

   1. No unsanctioned duels or sparring.

   2. All combat requires an instructor present and a safety medic nearby.

   3. Injuring another student outside of class will result in probation or removal.

3. Students Must Uphold Cross-Nation Respect

   1. No derogatory comments about another nation, culture, or element.

   2. Discrimination = immediate disciplinary review.

   3. “The war is outside. Unity is survival here.”

4. Unauthorized Missions Are Forbidden

   1. Leaving the premises or engaging enemies without clearance is desertion.

   2. Students may not act on personal vendettas during official missions.

5. Use of Bending for Intimidation or Status is Prohibited

   1. No public flame shows, air displays, rock towers, or water-whips for show.

   2. Bending is a weapon, not a toy or threat.

   3. First offense = written warning.

   4. Second offense = enforced silent training.

6. Failure in Ethics Results in Combat Probation

   1. All students must pass the “Ethics of Power” course.

   2. You cannot graduate without demonstrating moral reasoning.

7. Use of Elemental Power on Campus Infrastructure is Banned

   1. No melting doors, cracking tilts, or using air to shut people up in dorms.

   2. Damage to any structure means restoration duty under silence protocol.

8. Weaponry Use is for Stimulation Only

   1. Weapons may only be used during official training or mission exercises.

   2. Drawing a weapon outside of simulation = combat intent, and will be treated as such.

Nagi slides his hands in his pockets while he reads through all of the school rules. The low hum of fluorescent lights blended with the rustling of parchment and the occasional clink of metal as other students shifted in their seats.

The air feels thick with dust. Nagi puts all his weight on his heels, then the front of his feet to keep his body occupied while reading.

The rules are fine. Nagi can deal with those. He figured a lot of them would be like this, that’s what the elders told him about. One thing they didn’t tell him about was forbidden bending. He didn’t know there were so many types of forbidden bending.

Footsteps behind him. Nagi doesn’t move, thinking it’s someone walking past, but then the footsteps stop a few feet behind him.

“Hey, ghost.”

Ah, it’s Reo.

“School uniform looks strange on Aibenders.” Reo continues even though Nagi didn’t say a word. “Hows’ the design? You like it?”

Nagi shrugs. “S’fine. Different from robes. I like the secure feeling.”

”I bet. It’s designed strictly for combat. The military uniforms feel the same way.” Reo looks up towards the code of conduct, then back at Nagi. “What are you doing here, anyway? Lessons haven’t started yet, so we don’t need any books. The first week is all about getting to know each other.”

“Wanted to see what the school was really about.” Nagi looks up towards the first rule once more. “If it was really worth it to be here.”

”Ah. You didn’t come here willingly, did you?” Reo comes closer. He sits down on the corner of the table, arms crossed over his chest. Not tense, just casually. He looks at Nagi, who’s back is facing him while staring up at the code of conduct.

Nagi shakes his head. “Not willingly, no. My friends convinced me to go. I don’t see the point.”

Reo swings one of his legs. “Well, we can really use your help against the Rogues. They don’t have any Airbenders, so you’ll be our trump card.”

“Trump card.” Nagi looks over his shoulder and down at Reo, moon colored eyes locked on Reo’s. “To hurt people.”

”That’s the job. Kill them before they kill us.”

”That’s some great motivation you have there.”

Reo takes a deep breath. He needs to make good with at least one of the Airbenders. Something about Nagi intrigues him. Reo can sense he’s got some serious power hidden beneath his calm demeanor, he just needs to get that out somehow.

Somehow. Reo doesn’t know how yet. One thing he does know is that talking about the motivation behind killing hundreds won’t do him any good.

He’s about to switch the subject to something else when Nagi speaks again, voice quiet, but curious.

“It says lightning bending is forbidden. Why?”

Reo hesitates. The air around them shifts slightly, the question poking at something old—something dangerous. ”Because it’s not like other bending,” he finally says, straightening his shoulders. “It’s not just fire. It’s precision. Discipline. You’re not releasing heat—you’re splitting energy between your lungs and your heart. One wrong breath…” he taps his chest, “and you’re dead.”

Nagi doesn’t say anything. His eyes remain locked on Reo’s, curious.

“It’s pure violence. There’s no warning. No smoke. Just light, and then ash. Most who try and learn it die in training. The ones who survive usually wish they hadn’t.”

There’s a pause. The crackle of a nearby torch filled the space between them.

”So why do it?” Nagi asks.

Reo looks away, jaw tight. “Because in war, the ones who strike first—and the cleanest—win.” His voice drops a bit lower, “and some of us didn’t have a choice.”

The name hung in the air without being spoken.

General Renzai and the others, Nagi thinks. They taught everyone here, so what if they taught a select few some forbidden bending off campus?

Ah, so prince Reo Mikage does have a human side despite being known as a war machine—from what Nagi has gathered.

“General Renzai taught you.” Nagi concludes.

Reo’s silence is enough for him.

Across from him, Nagi’s gaze is sharp, thoughtful—not with judgement, but that same endless, lazy curiosity he brought to everything.

Reo recognizes it now. Nagi isn’t drifting around here without a care like he originally assumed. He was watching, learning, calculating.

“You’re curious.” Reo says, “not just about lightning, about it all, aren’t you?”

“I like puzzles.” Nagi replies, “and this place is one big puzzle with uniforms and fireballs.”

Reo stands up and cracks his neck. Left side, then the right side. “Lightning isn’t a puzzle, by the way. This school? Possibly. But forbidden bending is forbidden for a reason.”

Nagi watches him. “You were taught, though. Do you use it against the Rogues?”

”Not allowed. It’s a skill I have, but I don’t use.”

”Are you the only one?”

”I don’t know.” He starts to leave, “I gotta get back. I’ll—“

Nagi hums and looks back up at the code of conduct. “Reo.”

Reo, halfway to the exit, stops.

Nagi’s voice is quieter now. “What do you really think about the war?”

Reo turns slowly. His expression is unreadable, the faint light from the torches catching the sharp lines of his cheekbones, the emblem of Fire nation glinting faintly on his uniform.

“You always do this?” Reo asks, “wait for people to lower their guard, then ask the real questions?”

Nagi gives a one-shoulder shrug. “People say more when they think they’re done talking.”

And you need me. You’ll answer anything I ask, as long as I agree on being an aid.

Reo exhales, a sound somewhere between annoyance and amusement. He walks back over, not sitting, just standing beside Nagi. “It’s… it’s needed. For us to survive.”

The words come out clipped, restrained—like he didn’t quite trust himself to say it aloud.

”I’ve read the war journals. I’ve seen the records. Half the territories we fight over were barren before the first flame even landed. If the Rogues would’ve stayed with us instead of doing what they do now… attacking us, killing non-benders and benders alike, then it wouldn’t be a war. But they started it. And we have to finish it.”

He pauses, hands clenching.

“But I was born into this life. Into fire. Into duty. Into a throne I didn’t ask for and a military legacy I can’t walk away from. So I fight. Because the moment I stop, they replace me with someone who won’t ask questions.”

Nagi stares at him, unusually still. The air between them shifts, less like wind, more like tension uncoiling. “I didn’t think you’d actually answer.” He says.

“I didn’t think you’d care.”

Nagi looks away, eyes scanning the conduct once more. “I don’t know if I care about the war,” he admits, “but I care about knowing who’s leading it.”

Reo watches him for a long moment. “Is that what you think I am?” He asks, “a leader?”

”No,” Nagi says. “But you’re trying to be.”

And something about that—something in the way, almost indifferent honesty of it—hit harder than any compliment ever could.

Reo looks at him from the corner of his eye. “You think you’re not part of this yet,” he says, eyes narrowing. “But you are. The second you stepped onto these grounds, this place started shaping you. Just like it did me. So you better start asking yourself the same question.”

Nagi leans his head back and closes his eyes. “I already did.”

”And?”

”I think the war is boring,” he murmurs, “loud, messy, predictable. But people in it… aren’t.”

There’s something different about Nagi than everyone else here, including Reo. Reo doesn’t know what to say to that for a bit. For a second, he thought Nagi was mocking him. Nobody mocks him. Ever.

“Good. Because people win wars. Not nations. Not fire. People.”

The room fell silent again.

But it was a different kind of quiet now. The kind where two soldiers—even from different worlds—had finely glimpsed the weight each carried.

And maybe, just maybe, understood it.

Chapter Text

Week Two — Blue Lock War College

Rogues.

Everyone knows who they are and what they’ve done.

They’re a radical function of benders from multiple nations (mainly Fire and Earth) who've split off from their home governments.

They believe spirits are obsolete and want to sever ties with spiritual traditions.

These people want to kill all opposing benders and whatever non-benders that get in their way.

They reject the ideals of harmony and balance taught not only in the War College—but everywhere. The Rogues believe that bending is the power to dominate, not to coexist, and seek to impose their will over others. Their violent uprising has destabilized the region, sparking the current war for peace and those who crave control.

Every bender and non-bender believes in harmony and balance, that is, before the first attack.

The first attack was a group of Rogue firebenders who banded together and planned the attack for months before actually acting on it. The attack decimated half of the Earthbenders council building. Completely scorched, blackened, and reduced to ash.

Upon seeing the flames, in retaliation, the Earthbenders attacked the Firebenders because they thought it was them. Nobody could blame them. All four nations had complete harmony until that first strike, and the Earthbenders had to defend themselves.

When the Earthbenders attacked the Firebenders, the Firebenders were clueless. They too felt like they had to defend their homes, until both sides figured out they were both defending their homelands.

None of them had any idea that a third party of Rogues were the original problem. Nobody could have seen it coming.

Once an attack on the Waterbenders happened, killing hundreds and therefore making them the least populated nation, that’s when the three nations decided to fight back against the Rogues. Little did they know, the Rogue’s were growing in numbers.

And non-benders, regular human beings, were being slaughtered.

“This is.. some dark stuff.” Bachira whispers, sitting beside Nagi.

Nagi nods. “No kidding.”

They’re reading a copy of war journals. Isagi, Zantetsu, Bachira and Nagi know of the war, but they hadn’t heard about people being massacred. People who weren’t even involved on either side.

“Non-benders being killed seems like a little much.” Zantetsu turns the page, “all because they didn’t agree with having harmony is a little childish to me. They can’t even bend—why are they even being targeted?”

“All of it seems pointless.” Isagi huffs, he flicks his wrist, using air to turn a few pages. “Do you think we’ll end up actually killing somebody?”

“Hope not.” Bachira mumbles.

”We don’t harm others.” Nagi points out, chin resting on the palm of his hand as he continues to read.

Isagi huffs, “yeah, I know. I was just asking. I mean, why do you think our elders agreed to send us here? I mean, I wanted to come here because I wanted to leave home for a bit, but they did kinda push.”

Bachira shrugs. “They want no part in this, partially because no other benders can reach our temples besides us—unless maybe they can? Hopefully the temples aren’t threatened. I know that much. What do you think, Nagi? Why do you think they agreed to send us here?”

Nagi ponders for a moment. The elders met with them before the four of them departed to the War College to give their wisdom once more. They wouldn’t send the four of them there to kill. The Airbenders do not kill.

Defending their land—yes, of course they do that. They have too. Nagi isn’t stupid, he knows the Airbenders code. He can’t directly inflict lethal harm on anyone unless it’s for defense only.

But he can’t help but wonder if these Rogues all felt the same way. If the war had been going on for twenty two years now, then does that mean that some Rogue’s have tried to break free from that faction? Does that mean some of them are born into it? Do they all agree with the cause?

How can he support these people on the frontlines if he’s fighting people who are angry… but not evil?

There’s another reason why they were sent here. And it wasn’t to fight.

“To change their minds.” Nagi’s voice is quiet, uncertain. He clears his throat and looks up. Zantetsu, Isagi, and Bachira are all watching him. “They wouldn’t send us here to massacre people. Nobody is inherently evil. They’re just angry.”

Isagi runs a hand through his hair, “how on earth are we supposed to change everybody’s mind? Everyone here is training to become a killer. You’ve seen how happy they are about that sort of thing. How excited they are to be on the front lines.”

”History will keep repeating itself if nothing changes.” Zantetsu points out. “The new thing they’ve tried—new tactics, new formations, everything… it hasn’t worked because it’s the same circle of violence.”

”Wait, are you saying the elders agreed to have us come here to help break the circle of violence?” Bachira asks. “How are a bunch of old geezers gonna listen to us?”

Nagi thinks of Reo, and it feels like a lightbulb just went off in his head. “I… don’t think we start from the top.”

Bachira looks over at him, “what do you mean? Where else would we start?”

Isagi catches on quickly. “The prince.”

Zantetsu’s face twists, “he seems like a scary guy.”

”Nagi’s talked to him a few times.” Isagi says, “do you really think we start from there? From the prince all the way up to the generals?”

Reo’s words from a few days ago echo in Nagi’s head.

“Because people win wars. Not nations. Not fire. People.”

If Nagi’s being honest, he doesn’t think Reo’s heart is all in it. It’s in the way he talks, the way he carries himself. There’s always some hesitancy masked behind his cocky attitude that Nagi was introduced to on his first day.

Maybe Nagi doesn’t have to do much convincing after all.

“I think Reo is a good place to start.” Nagi concludes. “That’s where I’m starting.”

”For now, we learn like the others.” Isagi says, “follow the rules, engage in combat, the whole nine.”

”And have fun.” Bachira grins.

Isagi chuckles, “yes, and have fun, too.”

Week Two — Blue Lock Training Arena

The early light filtered through thin clouds above the arena, casting long shadows across the training grounds. Students gather at the edges of the ring, whispering behind raised hands, anticipation heavy in the air.

Reo rolls his shoulders and cracks his knuckles as he steps forward. His boots crunched on the sand. The gold embroidery of his training uniform shimmered like embers.

He looks over at his assigned partner. It’s not a surprise that he and Nagi were paired together, especially after all the times that he and Reo have been seen together on campus already—the library, when Nagi first arrived, and Reo may have pulled some strings to partner with him. General Renzai definitely did this on purpose, but Reo doesn’t mind.

Reo doesn’t know much about Airbending. He’s never tried to study it like the other elements because he’s never seen it before. Well, especially not in a combat sense, which is what they’re doing here. And Reo’s excited to see how air bending works first hand.

“Try not to get in the way, Nagi.” Reo pushes just a tad, adjusting his gloves in the process.

Nagi does that thing where he simply stares at Reo and doesn’t respond. He looks upwards towards the left where Bachira, Isagi, and Zantetsu are sitting. Bachira waves to him and gives a thumbs up, but he’s obviously nervous because Nagi is the first of them to be in the combat training arena.

Their opponents were already in place—Tajo, a stocky Firebender known for being aggressive, and Ren, a disciplined Earthbender with a brutal defense. Both of them looked ready to make this hurt.

Sparring sessions were Reo’s favorite part of the curriculum. He’s never lost no matter who his partner was. These sessions are one of the may ways he can make his father proud, and that’s all Reo really wants.

General Renzai’s voice cut across the field. “You all know the rules, but we have some new students so I’ll repeat them. No forbidden bending. No killing blows. When both partners are down or surrender, the other partners win. Losing won’t count against your final report, your strategy and power will. Remember, working together will get you higher scores. This is all about your own talent and partner work. Begin.”

Tajo moved instantly, throwing a plume of fire towards Reo.

Reo sidestepped, easy, elegant. “Tch. Predictable—“

He didn’t finish.

A second fireball, faster than the first, came right at Nagi.

Reo turned to shout, but stopped.

Nagi shifted. Barely. A step, a lean, a flick of his fingers. The wind rose.

A focused gust curled around the fireball and dispersed it midair—like it had never existed at all.

Reo froze, and students around them gasped in awe. None of them have seen Airbending in real time before.

He didn’t get to react further. Ren slammed a foot into the ground, a pillar of rock shooting straight under Reo’s feet.

“Shit!” Reo flipped backward, landing in a crouch. He twists and launches fire across the arena to push them back. His flames were strong, very strong, but lacked reach because he didn’t want to permanently injure his classmates.

He was bracing for counterattack when it happens again.

A sudden updraft. Sharp. Clean. It caught the edge of his fire mid-flight and turned it into something massive—an arcing crescent of flame that roared across the space like a dragons breath.

The students gasped.

Ren dove out of the way. Tajo stumbled, momentarily blinded by the heat and smoke.

Reo stood perfectly still, heartbeat kicking against his ribs. He turned slowly.

Nagi hadn’t moved much, but his hand was half raised, eyes locked on their opponents.

“That was you…” Reo breathes.

Nagi tilts his head, “you needed help.”

Reo didn’t respond for a moment. Then, he let out a soft, incredulous laugh. He’s good. Really good. And he was hiding it. Something electric surged beneath his skin—fire, yes, but not just fire. Thrill. Recognition.. “Nagi,” he smiles, “you’ve been holding out on me.”

Nagi shrugs, “didn’t feel like showing off.”

Reo grinned, something sharp and delighted flickering across his face. “Well,” he says, fire coiling around his knuckles, “you’re doing it now. Let’s burn them down.”

Nagi’s moon-colored eyes flash with something—excitement.

They moved as if they’ve done this a hundred times before.

Reo’s flames roared higher, wider—fed by Nagi’s perfectly timed wind, every push of air accelerating the burn, turning strikes into sweeping arcs. And when the Earthbender tries to close the distance, it was Nagi again who stopped him with a spiral of compressed air that cracked the ground and sent him reeling.

Tajo tried to strike Reo from behind.

Nagi didn’t hesitate. He moved like water, gliding between them and slamming the wind upward in a blast that knocked the other firebender off his feet.

Reo turned to look at Nagi again.

This time he didn’t say anything.

But he smiles.

The final blow came in a surge of flame and wind—Reo snapping a steam of fire toward their opponents while Nagi spun his hand in the opposite direction, generating a wind current that lifted the fire off the ground, giving it speed, shape, and force.

It struck just beside the other team. Not a hit but a warning. Heat seared deep at the edge of their uniforms, the ground scorched black.

Ren raises both his hands in surrender. Tajo curses under his breath and does the same.

Then comes the whispers, some in awe, others edged with disbelief. Reo stands in the ring with his shoulders still tense, fire curling like some from his fingertips. Beside him, Nagi let his arms fall slowly to his sides. His white hair flutters as the wind around him eases.

Nagi looks up towards Bachira, who’s looking at him with a wide grin and happy eyes, giving him two thumbs up. Nagi responds with the smallest of smiles, barely noticeable.

Reo turns to Nagi, panting lightly. “You okay?”

Nagi nods once, “yes.”

That was all.

It was Reo who looked away first.

General Renzai stepped onto the training floor. His expression was unreadable, gaze sweeping across the quiet students who now lined the edge of the sparring ring.

When he steps closer, Reo straightens up immediately.

“What you have just witnessed,” General Renzai begins, voice loud and commanding, “wasn’t about raw power.” He pauses, all students look at him. “It was partnership.”

His eyes settled on Reo and Nagi.

“Neither of them would have accomplished that alone. One without the other would have fallen. But together, they adapted, balanced, and read each other.”

Reo straightens up slightly, fire extinguished but pride simmering in his chest.

Nagi catches it. So, this is one of the many people he’s trying to impress.

Who is this man to you, Reo?

“They understood the battlefield not as two separate soldiers—but as one mind, one breath, one strike.”

The silence around the field deepens. Renzai’s gaze raked across the gathered students.

“That,” he says, “is what we train for. Not domination. Not blind obedience. But unity in combat. Clarity in chaos. That—” he looks one last time at Nagi and Reo, “—is how partnership works. You two will be partners from here on out.”

He turns on his heel and leaves the ring.

For a long moment, no one said anything.

Then, a few students started whispering again, more pointedly this time. Reo doesn’t care. He lets out a low whistle, breath still catching at the edges. “You really are full of surprises,” he mutters to Nagi.

Nagi blinks, then looks away towards the clouds of the arena. “You didn’t ask.”

Reo gives a short, started laugh, running a hand through his hair. For the first time since they’d been paired, he saw Nagi clearly—not just a quiet Airbenders in dark clothes, but someone with sharp instincts, calm precision, and a fierce loyalty hidden under all that sleepy indifference.

And for the first time, Reo thought: I want to fight with him again. Only him.

When they exit the ring, Nagi first with Reo behind him, the next few pairs are called, Nagi is almost tackled to the ground by none other than Bachira. A gust of wind catches him from hitting the ground, and he looks to the side to see Zantetsu a few feet away from him with his hand outstretched.

“That was so cool!” Bachira grins, “I was nervous about you getting paired with the prince but of course you were fine! How did it feel to fight other elements for the first time? Was it cool? Oh—I’m so excited to go out there too!”

Nagi blinks, “uh—it was good, I guess.”

”When you shattered that stone it was so neat.” Bachira bounces on his heels like an excited child. “I mean—who would’ve thought that this place could be that exciting, huh? And that prince, he was powerful. He was wicked cool!”

“Thanks.”

Bachira peaks over Nagi’s shoulder and sure enough, Reo was standing a few feet away. He sheepishly waves, “uh… hi, prince Mikage”

Reo walks up to them. Heat still radiated off of him, but not too much to where it was uncomfortable. “Just Reo is fine.”

”Is it always like that?” Bachira asks, gesturing to the arena. “I mean, is that normal?”

”I keep forgetting you guys haven’t seen other bending before.” Reo mumbles, “but yeah, it’s like that normally. The heat from that isn’t normal, Nagi’s air ignited my already existing flame. So I’m sure we’ll have to expand the arena.” He glances at Nagi, “but you knew you could do that, huh?”

”It was a guess.”

”A pretty accurate guess.”

”We have books at home about other benders.” Bachira supplies while they walk back to their seats. “We’re supposed to study how other bending works, the pros and cons and everything. Just in case we ever ran into trouble, we know how to counteract anything.”

Reo nods. That makes perfect sense. That’s exactly why Nagi knew what to do out there when Reo thought he had no prior knowledge. He stops when they pass the section where the Fire Nation students sit.

“Hey, Nagi.”

Nagi stops, and so does Bachira. He looks back at Reo, “hm?”

”Next time we do pairs, want to be my partner again? I know General Renzai said we would be, but, do you want to be?”

“If you can bend like that, you’ll fit right in around here!” A voice from the side interrupts their private moment. “Come on and take a seat, Airhead!”

Reo rolls his eyes, “shut the fuck up, Shidou.”

Shidou laughs, “he’s impressive!”

“Anyways.” Reo looks back at Nagi and holds out his hand. “Partners?”

In front of the Fire Nation student section, Nagi accepts his fate. He steps forward and holds his hand out, wrapping it around Reo’s firmly.

Nagi’s hand is soft.

Reo’s hand, covered by his gloves, is calloused underneath.

He’s not sure what all of this means yet. Becoming close with the Fire Nation prince—the one who will command many to massacre the opposing side—isn’t what he planned to do when he came here.

But now, things have changed. Maybe Nagi can change him.

“Partners.” Nagi confirms.

And Reo grins.

Everything is falling into place.

The Firelord's Tower — A Few Days Later, Late Evening

The halls of the Firelord’s Tower were carved in stone and silence. Even the guards at Reo’s sides stood like statues as he was led up the winding stairs—steps he’s long since memorized. His poster was perfect, spine taut, hands behind his back, eyes fixed forward.

He’s still breathing evenly when the heavy doors open with a metallic groan.

Inside, the war room was cast in warm hues from the fire bash in the center, a slow, deliberate flame flickering above a circular map etched with troop routes, territory lines, and red markers like blood droplets. His father stood over it, hands clasped behind his back, armored and unmoving, like part of the stone itself.

“Reo.” He says without looking up.

“Sir.” Reo stepped forward and bowed, voice crisp.

His father finally raised his head, eyes sharp as drawn steel. “You’ve had your first rounds of training with the new wave?”

”Yes sir. Progressing faster than projected.”

“And the Airbenders?”

Reo hesitates. Only for a breath. “They’ve arrived as expected. I’ve been observing their formations.”

”You’ve been paired with one,” his father states. It wasn’t a question.

“Yes, sir. I was paired with Nagi Seishiro for the sparring rounds.”

”And?”

Reo swallows. “Skilled. Surprisingly adaptive. He—” he almost said he works well with me, but he catches himself. “He follows orders.”

His fathers brow twitches daintily, just enough to indicate suspicion. He turns fully to face his son now, stepping away from the table with the slow weight of a man used to power. “You were always obedient. But I’ve been told you’ve grown… soft.”

By General Renzai, no doubt. Reo thinks. Uncle always has something to say about me to cause problems.

Reo’s jaw tensed. “Sir?”

“There’s something in your flame,” his father says. “It doesn’t burn the same. You hesitate. Your strikes curve. Your stance here—gentler than before.”

Reo’s shoulders stiffen. ”I’m not soft.” He says, quietly but firmly. The world clenched behind his teeth as he tries to keep his composure.

Did he see me having fun out there?

Shit.

Reo is the heir to the Flame. He’s not supposed to have fun.

“Then prove it.”

The silence stretched. Fire cracked.

“I expect you to remember your duty,” he continues. “You are a soldier, not a shield. Not a friend. If softness takes root in your heart, it will rot everything you’ve ever worked for.”

“Yes, sir.” Reo obeys, but he’s not breathing easily now.

His father turns away. “You’re dismissed.”

Reo bowed again, eyes steady even as heat curled beneath his skin—anger, shame, the hunger to prove him wrong. As he walks out of the room, his fists remain tight, unseen as his side.

He didn’t notice his fingers' tips sparking until the door shut behind him.

“What’s got your panties in a twist, purple bun?”

Shidou scares the shit out of Reo the moment he jumps out from behind the corner.

Reo steps back, startled and ready to throw down with the fire, but his eyes narrow in annoyance when he lays eyes upon his friend. “What the hell are you thinking, sneaking around here? My dad is literally down the hall.”

“Oh come on, prince. It’s just me. And your dad likes me—kinda.” Shidou wraps his arm around Reos’ shoulders as they begin to walk past all the guards and out of the tower. “What’s got you brooding, huh?”

He knows he can tell Shidou a lot. They’ve been friends since they were young children. He’s seen Reo be morphed into the perfect son and the perfect soldier. The perfect weaponized war toy—yet he’s still stayed.

He stayed by Reo’s side after the massacres. After watching Reo burn down people by his father or General Renzai’s side. He’s seen Reo the first night he killed someone, breaking down crying in his room when he thought he was alone, and still stayed. Cleaned him up when he was weak, helped put him back together.

“Just stuff.” Reo doesn’t bother shrugging his arm off his shoulders. “With my dad. With it all. I guess.”

“Hm. That sucks.”

”He thinks I’m getting soft.”

”You? Soft?” Shidou looks down at him, curiously. His face is unreadable for a moment, like he wants to say something, but decides not too. “Sounds like he doesn’t know his own son. What a dick.”

Reo narrows his eyes up at him. “That’s still my dad you’re talking about.”

”Doesn’t matter. I said what I said.”

”You don’t think I’m getting soft, do you?”

”I think you’re way in over your head at times, but soft? Hell no. Dude, I’ve seen you do some crazy shit. Just because you’re finally making friends at school doesn’t mean you’ve gone soft.” Shidou says, “and isn’t your dad the one to say to make friends with those Airheads anyway?”

Reo nods. “Yeah. He’s got a problem with the one I partnered with for the sparring session.”

”Nagi? Please. If anything, that kid should freak your dad out a bit.” Shidou’s eyes brighten in excitement. “That kid is wild. The other Airheads say he’s the strongest one in their group when it comes to like—I don’t know what they said… hmm… out of all the ones trained in defense, he’s most likely to deceive the other opponent.”

The same way he deceived me into thinking he was weaker than I thought, Reo thinks to himself. Nagi is a clever guy, Reo will give him that. “You’ve been talking to the Airbenders?”

”I talk to everyone here. You know that.” Shidou kicks open the front doors with his feet, and Reo doesn’t bother to scold him on how to open a door properly. They walk through the doors. “Back to the point, your dad is stupid if he thinks you’re going soft. God forbid you have friends. Also, it’s not going soft if you’re forming alliances. You’ve been kicking ass out there all week in the sparring sessions since your first one teamed up with Nagi. You even beat me and my partner. So Firelord Dumbass is wrong.”

Reo scoffs. “I know you don’t like the guy, but at least respect him.”

“The same way he respects you?”

”He respects me.”

”Does he, though?”

Reo crosses his arms over his chest, choosing not to answer that. He knows the answer to that. He doesn’t need to tell Shidou.

His father respects Reo only when Reo obeys all of his orders without question.

The sound of people laughing brings Reo out of his negative, swirling thoughts before they pull him under like a wave, drowning him.

It’s the normal welcoming party the students always have during the second week once they’ve started to know each other more through class. It always takes place in the northern quadrant since it used to be unoccupied, but since only four Airbenders arrived, there’s still room for all the students to gather, drink, and relax for the night.

The night air was thick with music and the scent of grilled meat and smoky incense—evidence of yet another gathering in full swing. Lanterns hung from fire-bent lines in the air, glowing with shifting warmth: reds, oranges, deep golds. Students from every bending nation mingled under the open sky, the tension of early semester training shaken off in dancing shadows and laughter.

Reo wasn’t really in the mood. Not after the conversation with his father.

“Come on, stiff shoulders.” Shidou pulls him in closer despite Reo’s visible annoyance. “You look like someone set your soul on fire—not in the fun way. You need to loosen up.”

”I’m fine.” Reo mutters, but Shidou ignores him completely.

“Don’t care.” Shidou drags him past students bending little flares for drinking games, through a crowd of dancers stomping to percussive beats. “You think too much. Second week, purple bun! Tradition. We party before the war eats our minds.”

Reo didn’t fight it. Not really. His father allowed him one night off a semester, and it was always for the Second Week party.

Because the truth was: he was thinking too much. About his fathers words, about the way Nagi had calmly knocked an opponent off their feet in training earlier this week, about softness—and whether it was really something to fear.

The firelight flickers over his eyes as he lets Shidou drag him deeper into the crowd. Reo quickly puts on that mask—smiling, happy, eyes shining—as he says hello to everyone around him since he always has to keep a good impression.

In a corner, Earthbender Kunigami was arm-wrestling a Waterbender named Karasu that Reo’s met a few times. Reo catches sight of one of the Airbenders, Bachira Meguru, dancing on a table top while playing with water orbs around him. Beside him, Chigiri is laughing, water bending Kunigami’s water and morphing it into yet another orb for Bachira to chase.

Not too far away were Isagi and Zantetsu, laughing and joking around with other Waterbenders. Reo should have known that the Airbenders would befriend the Waterbenders first. Waterbenders are a lot like them.

Waterbenders are passionate, intuitive, emotionally driven, and great at adapting to others. Airbenders are free spirited, elusive, untouchable, unpredictable, and usually intuitive rather than logical. Their morals are both closely aligned. But most of all—they’re all naturally gentle natured.

For a moment, Reo let himself be part of it. Let the noise distract him. Let the air ease the fire in his blood.

And then, just for a breath, he wondered where Nagi was.

The thought curled quiet and certain in the center of his chest.

Later on, when Reo is a few drinks and a smoke (Shidou’s doing) in, Reo finally spots Nagi. The moment he sees him, the rest of the party dims.

Nagi stood off to the side, particularly shadowed beneath the arch of a flame-lit canopy, hands tucked into the sleeves of his black uniform. He wasn’t drinking, dancing, or talking. Just… there, observing, letting the world unfold around him like smoke trailing from incense.

A warm breeze lifted the ends of his white hair, casting gold highlights over his cheekbones from the lantern light above. He looks bored, but in the way that made Reo’s chest clench, because he knew now that boredom didn’t mean detachment. It meant stillness. Focus. A coil of something powerful, waiting for a reason.

What are you doing here? Reo thinks, you don’t like all this noise, do you?

Nagi looks up like he’d heard what Reo thought, and their eyes locked across the distance. He didn’t smile. Didn’t gesture him over. But the way his gaze held Reo’s—it was enough.

Reo left Shidou mid-rant about “drunken Earthbenders who can’t spar for shit” and walked straight towards him.

“You showed up,” Reo grins, stopping just close enough to catch the shift in Nagi’s expression. Not quite surprise. Not quite relief. Something slower.

Nagi’s eyes didn’t move from Reo’s face, even as the music behind them spiked and students shouted somewhere near the fire pit.

“Bachira, Isagi, and Zantetsu wanted me to come—Chigiri and Kunigami told us about it,” he says quietly, almost like he was offering an excuse. “Was gonna stay inside in my dorm, but they said I should try.”

Reo laughs softly, not bitter, not bright—just there, like a crack in the tension holding his shoulders tight. Nagi doesn’t know what it means, but he recognizes the way Reo wasn’t standing like himself (even though he’s not exactly sober.) Like the line of his back was too rigid. Like his jaw had been clenched for too long.

“You good?” Nagi asks, tilting his head, voice low. Not prying. Never prying. Just watching. Noticing.

Reo didn’t answer right away. He eyes flick towards the bonfire, then back again. His fingers flex once at his die before tucking them into the hem of his belt. “Yeah,” he says, “just a long day.”

Nagi blinks slowly, “you’re tense.”

Reo’s mouth twitches, “you’re observant.”

“Not really,” Nagi mutters, gaze dropping to Reo’s hand, then back to his face. “You’re just loud.”

That earns a bitter but easy laugh from Reo. “Is that why you like me?”

“I never said I liked you.”

“You didn’t have too.”

Nagi shrugs, lazy and unwavering. “You usually burn too hot for me when we spar together in class so I keep you at a distance. But tonight it’s different.”

That shouldn’t have sent heat crawling up Reo’s neck, but it did (he blames the fire around them in the lanterns.) He looks away, out over the party, toward the blaze of lanterns flickering against the canopy above.

Nagi watches him a second longer. “Something happened.”

It wasn’t a question.

You really are observant.

Reo hesitates. And then, in a voice low and careful, like he wasn’t ready to name it, he says, “it’s nothing. Just… family stuff.”

Nagi doesn’t push. He just steps closer, shoulder brushing Reo’s as he looks out across the courtyard. Reo can feel the ease of the air around Nagi, it cools him down a bit. It feels nice. “Your flames are tighter tonight. You're holding them too close.”

Reo turns to him slowly, mouth parting. “How the hell do you—“

“I listen.” Nagi says simply, “even when you don’t talk. The wind tells me.”

For a second, Reo feels like the ground might shift under him. Like fire wasn’t the most dangerous element in the courtyard. Like silence was.

Reo shifts slightly, hand brushing the inside of his coat pocket. His fingers closed around a thin, paper-wrapped joint—slightly bent, like he’d nearly forgotten it was there.

He pulls it out, held between two fingers, and glances at Nagi with a slow, sly tilt to his mouth. “Want some?”

Nagi’s brow lifted a fraction, but his expression didn’t change. “Didn’t think you smoked. Need to keep a good reputation for being a prince, and all.”

”I don’t. Usually.” Reo rolls the joint between his fingers, then flicks his thumb. A clean flame flared from his knuckle and licked the tip. The ember caught, red-gold in the dark. “Just figured… tonight’s kind of a ‘fuck everything’ kind of night. Shidou brings me to these, and it’s the only time the generals aren’t up my ass about something.”

The smoke curled around them like a ribbon, lazy and slow. Reo took a small drag—not too deep—and let out a controlled exhale through his nose. His eyes didn’t leave Nagi’s.

Nagi stares at it for a moment. Then he plucks it from Reo’s hand like it was a passing thought and brings it to his lips. He didn’t cough. Just breathed it in, eyes kidding slightly at the burn in his lungs.

Reo watches the motion with something sharp and soft beneath his ribs. As far as he knows, Nagi never did anything without choosing too. If he was here, if he was taking this—he meant it.

Nagi hands it back. “Tastes like cheap leaves.”

Reo snorts. “That’s because it is cheap leaves.”

They’re surrounded by the smoke when Reo breathes out another puff, and Nagi easily bends it away, and the air is fresh again.

“Better than being inside, though.” Nagi says.

“Still better than talking to my father.” Reo mutters before he could stop himself.

Ah. Reo’s father is the Firelord. Nagi can’t remember his parents, they passed away a long time ago. He wonders what it’s like to have a dad like the Firelord. From what Nagi’s gathered, it’s pretty stressful.

“Want to leave?” He asks eventually, not looking at Reo. “We don’t have to stay, right?”

And that—more than anything—settled something in Reo’s chest.

He takes one last drag, then stubs the joint out against the heel of his boot, dropping the ash to the stone.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Let’s go, then.”

Chapter Text

Week Three — Blue Lock War College, Off Campus

The air was thick with ozone and silence.

Beyond the jagged cliffs of the training grounds, the sky rolled—a violent churn of purples and blacks, veins of lightning splitting the heavens. Rain hadn’t started yet, but it would. It always did when General Renzai demanded more than the earth could handle.

And today… Today he asks for more than Reo can handle, apparently. But that does not stop his demands for perfectionism.

Reo stands alone in the clearing, shoulders tense, chest rising and falling too fast. His uniform jacket had long been discarded, sweat sticking the fabric of his undershirt to his skin. His palms sting, fingertips scorched, raw from each failed attempt.

Everything hurts. This is cruel.

General Renzai watches him from a distance. His arms crossed, his posture sharp, unmoved by the storm of the strain trembling through the boy before him. The prodigy before him.

Or, the one who's supposed to be his prodigy.

Or, just General Renzai’s nephew.

Reo doesn’t feel like a prodigy right now.

And General Renzai doesn’t feel like family.

“Again,” General Renzai orders, voice cutting through the wind like a blade. “Don’t breathe like you’re panicking. Breathe like you’re in control. You are a Mikage, and like all others before you, you will master this and wield it as well.”

Reo clenches his jaw. General Renzai is right. He has to do this just like everyone before him. He raises his hands as soon as lightning strikes downwards from the dark clouds once more.

Lightning didn’t bend like fire. It didn’t respond to willpower or rage. It demanded clarity—unyielding focus—and that’s what made it so cruel. He could feel the storm in his ribs, buzzing beneath his skin like a second heartbeat. He reaches for it, and Reo screams once he’s hit.

It doesn’t work.

He already knows he’s failed.

The energy shot through his limbs, scotching nerves, seizing muscles. It was like being hollowed out from the inside. His knees buckle, but he doesn’t fall. He staggers, catches himself, his breath a ragged gasp against the burning chest.

“Redirect it!” Renzai snaps, “you hold it for too long and you’ll fry yourself!”

Reo tries. Gods, he tries. Twisting his wrists, shifting in silence, but it doesn’t work. The current slips wild through his veins and scatters into the ground with a sharp crack. Useless. Wrong. Again.

The lightning is supposed to be redirected at a target, not into the ground. That’s the coward's way out. And Reo is not a coward.

He collapses onto one knee, fists curled into the dirt, teeth gritting so hard his jaw ached.

“I’m trying,” he hisses more to himself than to Renzai. “I’m… I’m trying.”

“No,” Renzai says coldly, walking forward, his boots heavy in the mud. “You're failing.”

Reo raises his head. His vision is blurred, his heart is beating too loud. A slow, aching throb had begun to spread through the center of his chest. It hurt. It really hurt.

But he stands again.

He has too.

His father didn’t tolerate weakness. Renzai didn’t tolerate hesitation. He couldn’t afford either—not if he wanted to matter. Not if he wanted to be more than an obedient blade.

Lightning cracks again.

And again—his body took it, twisted, burned—and again—he failed.

After the sixth strike, he crumples, this time unable to rise right away. His fingers twitch against the wet earth, and every breath feels like fire inside his lungs.

Rain starts to downpour.

I can’t do this.

General Renzai watches him quietly for a long time. Then, with the dispassion of someone reading a report, he says, “your father will never be proud of you at this rate.”

The words hurt worse than lightning.

But he’s heard them before.

And he knows this won’t be the last time.

Reo doesn’t cry in front of General Renzai. He doesn’t scream. He just stays there, breathing through his teeth, silent as the storm finally breaks open overhead—rain pounding the dust into must around his shaking frame.

Thunder rolls low across the cliffs as General Renzai turns his back.

No farewell. No parting orders. Just the soft crunch of boots receding into the distance, swallowed by the rising wind and the hiss of rainfall. Reo doesn’t move. Doesn’t look up. Just listens to that silence left in his wake. And the storm inside him is louder, still.

The air smells like scorched soil and ozone. His hands are shaking. His body throbs with electricity that has nowhere to go, crackling against his skin that still hasn’t been cooled. His jaw locks, trying to bury the weight in his throat—but the longer he sat in the rain, the harder it became.

He wasn’t supposed to feel this way.

He wasn’t supposed to feel at all.

But something cracked.

One sharp breath, and then another, and then he folds in on himself like a man breaking under his own armor.

His fingers dig into the mud. His chest heaves. And he cries.

Not loud—never loud—but with the kind of quiet desperation that only came when you were utterly, achingly alone. No one to see. No one to judge. Just the open sky weeping with him.

All his life, they’d told him who to be. The crown prince of flame. The prodigy. The warrior molded from ash and steel. A weapon. A name. A symbol.

He was supposed to kill without blinking. Burn without guilt. Lead without doubt.

But he didn’t feel like any of those things now. He feels small. Wrong. Incomplete. And so deeply, crushingly tired.

He thinks of his fathers eyes—unblinking, cold—and of Renzai’s voice, sharp with disappointment. He thinks of lightning ripping through him again, again, and again.

Your father will never be proud of you at this rate.

Reo presses his palms to his eyes like he could crush the tears out before they ever touch his cheeks, but they keep coming. Because deep down, all he wants to be is enough. Not the perfect heir. Not the terrifying firebender. Just enough.

Enough to be wanted. Enough to be seen.

And here in the shadow of the cliffs, with no one watching, he let that truth spill freely, hotter than flame.

Tears mixing with the rain, sliding down skin already soaked.

A prince on his knees, alone in the storm.

By the time Reo returned to campus, night had bled fully into the sky. The rain had slowed to a mist, but it clung to his clothes, to his lashes, to the ends of his hair—like the storm couldn’t quite let him go.

Shidou and another Firebender, another close friend of Reo’s, Rin, were waiting on the stone steps outside the east hall.

Shidou is pacing. Rin stands with his arms crossed, shoulders taut like a drawn string. The moment they caught sight of Reo rounding the path from the outer cliffs, both straightened. Shidou was the first to step forward. ”Damn, Reo. You look like shit.”

His voice is half-playful, half-concerned, but Reo didn’t even flinch. Didn’t meet his eyes.

Rin’s tone is much quieter. “Did something happen during training? You’ve been gone for hours.”

Reo keeps walking.

The rainwater had soaked through his uniform completely, and his boots left heavy, echoing prints across the stone floor. His hair stuck to his cheeks, and though he held his face neutral, they both noticed the red rim of his eyes.

“Reo—” Rin starts again, but Reo brushes past them both like he hadn’t heard.

No answers. No excuses.

He disappears inside the east wing without a word.

The dormitory hall was silent.

Reo’s room is dim when he slips inside and shuts the door behind him with a soft click. He stands there for a moment in the dark, hands limp at his sides. The air smells like old stone and wet clothes.

He peels off his soaked uniform, each motion mechanical. He folds it, sets it aside. He dries his hair with shaking fingers. He lays down on the mattress without bothering to change the rest.

And then he curls on his side, facing the stone wall.

The silence presses in. The quiet of his own breath, of his too-loud heart. He squeezes his eyes shut, and it still comes—the sting behind his lids, the ache in his throat, the flood he couldn’t hold back.

He doesn’t sob or wail. That kind of grief wasn’t for someone like him.

Instead, he cries the way people do when they’ve forgotten to ask for help.

Silent. Trembling. One tear at a time.

He presses his face into the pillow, hiding the shaking of his shoulders, the hitch in his breath.

His body still hurts so bad from the mistaken redirected lightning.

It hurts so bad every time he fails.

He wants to so badly disappear into the mattress. Into the dark. Into sleep.

And he did—eventually. Tear stained and hollow, the storm still echoing behind his ribs, even after the thunder had gone.

The sun dips low behind the towers of the war college, casting long golden shadows across the open sparring field. The stone tiles radiated the days heat and humidity after the recent storms, steam rising where water had slashed and dried in uneven steaks. Cadets stood in loose clusters, some watching, some stretching. Sweat and fire hung heavy in the air.

General Renzai had ordered a no-bending round of combat drills—purely hand-to-hand. No exceptions. No excuses. He chose the first few rounds of partners just to see who works well with each other before he groups them all for a recon mission at the end of the week.

Nagi, fortunately or unfortunately, discovers that his partner for the next sparring round is Shidou. The same guy who’s been calling him an Airhead since the day Nagi proved himself in the arena with Reo.

Dozens of cadets spar around the two of them as they walk to their section. Well, where there was the most space. Shidou complains that he needs a lot of room to fight. Nagi honestly doesn’t care.

Nagi’s black uniform hung loose around his frame, sleeves cuffed neatly at his wrists. He doesn’t roll his shoulders, doesn’t stretch dramatically. He just stands there, eyes half-lidded, spine loose like a reed in water.

Shidou grins across from him like a wolf that’s offered fresh prey.

“Well, well, Airhead. Thought you were all brains and breezes.” He cracks his neck and bounces on the balls of his feet. “Hope you bruise pretty.”

Nagi blinks. “Okay.”

Shidou came in fast.

No hesitation, no warming up, just a hard jab at Nagi’s collarbone and a sweeping kick meant to knock him off balance. But Nagi moves like mist.

He bends away, hips shifting fluidly, spine rolling backwards just enough to avoid contact. No wasted movement. No reaction. Just clean evasion. And then he strikes.

A sharp palm to Shidou’s ribs. Not enough to stagger him. Just enough to be noticed.

Shidou’s grin widens, “ohhh. You’re quick. No wonder why Reo likes you.”

He comes again, harder. Punch after punch aimed at Nagi’s head, his torso, his legs. Brutal, precise, relentless. He wants to push, to dominate. To see how far Nagi would go before cracking.

But Nagi doesn’t crack. All his life, he’s been taught patience, to read everything around him.

He absorbs movement like air pulling around obstacles. Dodging. Leaning. Letting the aggression swirl past him before redirecting it—one low sweep at Shidou’s ankle. A pivot on his heel. A shove that knocks Shidou two steps back.

Sweat clings to Shidou’s temples now. His breathing quickens. He was strong, unpredictable, even Reo and Kunigami had trouble with him in hand-to-hand combat. But Nagi wasn’t reacting like he was supposed too, like the others did. He didn’t show fear, no adrenaline spike. Just that same, maddening stillness.

“What even are you? Forget Airhead, you’re built like a damn tank.”

Surprisingly, Nagi snorts in amusement.

Not everybody knows he, Bachira, Isagi, and Zantetsu were trained in combat before bending.

Shidou lunges, teeth clenched, fists raised, but this time Nagi didn’t dodge. He steps into the strike. He grabs Shidou’s wrist mid-swing, twisting, using Shidou’s momentum against him, and sweeps his legs clean out from under him.

The Firebender hits the ground hard. Flat on his back, stunned, and eyes wide. But he looks up at Nagi with excitement in those bright eyes of his. Like he had just found himself something prize worthy.

Nagi looks down at him, breathing calm with no victor expression. No smirk. “I win,” he says, softly.

General Renzai walks past them. “Fight over. Move on.”

Shidou sits up slowly, chest rising and falling. His expression wasn’t angry. He was intrigued. “You’re not just some quite freak… you’re a fucking weapon, man.”

Nagi stares, and then offers his hand.

“Thanks.” Shidou takes it and stands back up. He dusts himself off and nudges Nagi’s shoulder with his own. “That was a good fight, Airhead.”

”Nagi.”

”Airhead.”

Nagi huffs, rolls his eyes, turns around, and walks away.

From the left side, Reo watched the entire fight—eyes narrowed, lips slightly parted.

He’d seen Shidou knock down five people—including himself—in the last week alone.

But Nagi? Nagi hadn’t even flinched.

And Reo couldn’t stop thinking about how that stillness might feel beside him in a real fight.

General Taigen splits the hundreds of students into different groups for a scouting mission. Each group will have 25 students and will be sectioned off with some official soldiers. They’re either going to clean up, aid the wounded, scouting recon, or if they’re more experienced, they will be going straight into the war zone.

The main goal is to get everyone prepared with real world experience. They normally don’t do this until everyone’s last year at the school, but this year they’ve brought the juniors in because things with the war are starting to progress.

Each group will be mixed with different benders. There’s an equal amount of each bender, but Firebenders and Earthbenders will populate most teams because they have the largest population even after years of the Waterbenders rebuilding their nation.

“This is nerve wracking, what if we’re separated?” Bachira asks, walking between Isagi and Nagi to where the team listings will be. “I don’t want to be separated from you guys.”

”There’s four of us. They’ll have us spread out.” Zantetsu says, “you think they’ll put you on Reo’s squad, Nagi?”

”For some reason, you two always find each other on this huge campus.” Bachira teases.

Nagi huffs, “whatever.”

Zantetsu was right. The four of them are separated, and Nagi is in Reo’s squad.

The thing is, Nagi can’t even complain about it. He’s beginning to… like being around Reo. Last week at the Second Week party, the two of them left towards the very end while everyone else was still drunk or high or whatever else they were doing. Nagi can’t lie, he had a good time when they left.

The party noise had long since faded behind them, replaced by the quiet hush of the campus at night. Just wind in the trees and the occasional sizzle of torchlight along the walkways.

Reo walks beside Nagi in silence, hands tucked in his jacket pockets, head tilted towards the sky. The moon was high and full, its pale light making the stone path shimmer. Nagi keeps his pace at his side, his steps slow and unhurried, watching the way Reo’s shoulders move just barely with each breath. He didn’t ask where they were going.

Reo doesn’t really know either.

They end up at the old training courtyard. The one that nobody uses anymore since the newer grounds were built near the east wind. Here, vines creep along the cracked open stone pillars, and the torches were half-burned out, casting flickering shadows like ghosts dancing across the walls.

Reo stops in the center. “Okay, so,” he says, voice low and a little mischievous. “There’s this thing my tutor—General Renzai— taught me when I was like, ten, maybe. It’s technically firebending but, like… pointless.”

Nagi blinks. “Pointless how?”

Reo crouches slightly, cupping both hands like he was cradling a bowl. A flicker of flame blooms in his palms, small and harmless. It shifts color—orange, then blue, then a strange sparkly pink that clearly shouldn’t exist.

“It’s called a whisp flame,” Reo explains, face warm in the light. “No heat, no real energy. Just kind of… pretty. Useless in a fight. But I used to think it was cool.”

Nagi crouches too, curiosity softening the useful slowness of his expression. “Why’d you stop?”

Reo shrugs. “My father said it was a waste of time. Said I shouldn’t waste fire on things that don’t serve a purpose.”

The flame hovers between them like a little star, no larger than a coin. Nagi leans forward slightly, watching it flicker pink and gold. “I like it,” Nagi says.

Reo glances up at him, caught off guard by the genuine awe in Nagi’s voice. “Yeah?” He asks, a little too fast, almost embarrassingly.

Nagi nods. “You should do more things like this.”

Reo stares at the flame, then back at Nagi, “more pointless things?”

”More things just for you.”

Silence stretches, not heavy, just warm.

Then, Reo blows gently into his hands, and the flame wobbles, puffing into a soft heart-looking shape that he looks proud of making (he tells Nagi it’s the only shape he learned how to make with this whisp flame), and then it disappears into the curl of smoke.

“I only ever show that to the people I Iike,” he says, almost teasing. “You’re one of the lucky ones. You should feel honored.”

”I thought you showed it to me because you wanted to show off.”

Reo grins, a real, genuine grin. “That too.”

They stay there for a few minutes longer, sitting in the overgrown courtyard, watching the sky and listening to the night. Neither of them said it out loud, but something had settled between them—quiet and warm as a firelight, flickering gently like it belonged.

“Ugh! I wanted us to be on the same squad. that would’ve been so cool.” Bachira crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m with a few people I know, though, a lot from the Waterbenders. That’s nice.”

”It’ll be fine,” Isagi rests his elbow on Bachira’s shoulder. “I heard the prince’s flames are dangerous on these types of missions. I honestly think the three of us dodged a bullet. Except you, ghost.”

”Don’t call me that.” Nagi flicks Isagi’s forehead.

Isagi holds his forehead like he’s been brutally hurt. “Ow! You have no mercy.”

”Nope. None.”

The four of them join a few Waterbenders and a few Earthbenders to study for some of their classes. A Firebender is there, his name is Rin, Nagi’s seen him hang around Reo before but he doesn’t say much. Bachira tells Nagi that Rin’s brother, Sae—another powerful Firebender—was killed in the war a year ago when Rogue’s attacked them.

Nagi was too young to know his parents. Losing someone he loves… he couldn’t imagine the ache in his chest if that were to happen. If he lost someone as close to him like Bachira… Nagi genuinely has no idea what he would do.

If he lost Bachira? Or Isagi or Zantetsu… if he loses them during this war all because they wanted to try and make a difference… Nagi doesn’t know if he would have a purpose anymore. He does everything for other people. That’s how he is. That’s how he always has been. He looks out for everyone around him.

His chest aches at the thought of losing any of them.

Does that mean he needs to fight?

Nagi doesn’t want to fight.

He doesn’t want—

“Hey,” Hiyori, a Waterbender, says over Nagi’s shoulder. “The answer is the first one.”

That breaks Nagi out of his trance. “Right, thanks.”

Yukimiya, an Earthbender, plops down beside Kunigami, “we got a study session going on?”

”You want me to read out loud to you?” Kunigami doesn’t even have his book open, he’s just doodling in the corner of his homework sheet.

“If you would, that would be great. I can only do so much, you know?”

Bachira tilts his head to the side curiously, “why is that?”

”Oh yeah, you’re new.” Chigiri chuckles. He gestures to Yukimiya, “he’s the only blind student here. Well, not completely blind, his vision is blurred enough to where he can’t read stuff on paper. But if it’s etched into earth then he can read it.”

”Oh, wow.” Zantetsu leans forward, “so you see everything through your bending?”

”A blessing and a curse, my friend.” Yukimiya pushes his glasses into his hair. Both of his eyes are glazed over in a white cloud color coding. It looks like the fog outside or when it mists instead of having rain downpour. A soft gray, like what the Airbenders visualize when they bend. “Pretty cool, huh?”

Zantetsu nods eagerly, “exciting. Have you been in the sparring sessions yet? I don’t think I’ve seen you out there yet.”

”I’m actually starting this week. I had some stuff to take care of at home.” Yukimiya explains.

The rest of the evening is quiet chatter between the group that has woven together over the last three weeks. Nagi doesn’t do much socializing, he lets his friends do that and they kind of drag him around everywhere.

He focuses on his notes mostly. Nagi reads a lot in his free time at home, and he’s spent a lot of time at the library here too. He likes it because it’s quiet, peaceful, and he doesn't have to worry about anything when he’s tucked in the corner reading a book.

Nagi reads up on all the war history he can while they’re all in their study group. Page after page reveals many dark events that have happened in the war. The war journals are heartbreaking. Nagi stops on a certain page about stories from those who have survived.

Survivors' guilt.

People who have done something terrible like killing people on the opposing side—the Rogues—and probably some innocent people while they’re at it. They say it hurts them. That the people they killed lurk in the back of their minds forever. Some are driven insane and unable to continue being a soldier after they graduate from this war college. Some of them are never back to their normal again.

There’s nightmares, night terrors, loss of appetite. Some say they see the people they’ve killed… their shadows… all around, teasing them, asking them why they did what they did.

The world around Nagi goes quiet. He turns the page and pulls the journal closer to himself. Nagi’s eyes scan the lines slowly, the words felt heavier than the page.

I used to keep count. At first, it felt like something I needed to do. Every face, every scream. I thought if I remembered them, it meant I hadn’t lost everything human in me. But then the numbers got too big. I stopped counting. I stopped remembering the faces. They started blending together like ashes in the wind and bodies in the mud. I killed a man who was already limping away. I told myself it was mercy. It wasn’t. It was policy.

I see them now. Not just in dreams. They stand in the corners of my tent. In the clouds. In the shimmer of my tea. Ghosts that never scream, only watch. And some part of me is waiting for them to say it: ‘You knew better.’

I tried to write home once, but what could I say? That I’ve grown good at killing and worse at feeling? My hands tremble at night but never during battle. Isn’t that strange? That I’m steadier when I’m destroying? I don’t know how many more days I’ll do this. I want to go home. I want to sit in the sun and not flinch at every shadow. But I think the war carved too much out of me. I think if I stopped fighting now, I’d be empty. And I’d rather be dead than hollow.

If anyone finds this, tell the next boy or girl not to follow orders blindly. That survival isn’t the same as living. And that the ghosts don’t stop coming just because your heart does.

Nagi stares at the page for a long time. His hands were still. The weight of silence around him sharpened a little until he could hear his own breathing—slow, uneven.

This wasn’t just history.

It was a warning.

And he wasn’t sure they were listening.

Nagi closes the journal and excuses himself from the table, saying he’ll be right back.

He steps into the hallway, the polished floors reflecting firelight in long, golden lines. His eyes remain fixed ahead. He doesn’t want to blink. He doesn’t want to think.

Around the bend near the central stairwell, voices filtered though the corridor—low and familiar. Reo’s stood out, smooth and casual, laced with that dry humor he only used around people who didn’t scare him.

“… told you, Ness, the lightning scars were fragments training, not from being dramatic.” Reo was saying.

Nagi thought that was forbidden. What the hell is Reo doing with that?

Honestly, Nagi has too much happening in his head right now. Whatever Reo does is Reo’s business.

Shidou scoffs, “dramatic is literally your default setting, man.”

A soft laugh from someone Nagi recognizes as Kaiser—a relentless Firebender but cold and calculated. Then, the other, Ness—if Nagi remembers right, that’s Kaisers partner—murmurs something teasing in response.

Nagi doesn’t stop waking.

He passes them without slowing, without glancing. Just a shadow moving past the circle of their warmth.

But Reo notices. His voice dropped mid-sentence, eyes tracking Nagi’s retreating figure. He didn’t call out, but he turned, watching.

Nagi didn’t turn back. His shoulders were tight, jaw locked. He just kept going, slipping through the archway at the end of the hall and into the bathroom.

Inside, the cold porcelain and still air met him like silence. He leans against the wall, hand bracing himself, and lowers his head. The air smells faintly of eucalyptus soap and stone.

He doesn’t cry.

He doesn’t speak.

He just breathes.

Long, slow inhales. Out again. Like if he could empty himself enough, the words he’d read would fade. But they didn’t.

The journal still sits heavily in his memory. Those words looped through his mind like wind around a bell. He closes his eyes and thinks of fire and war and faceless bodies. He thinks of how Reo burns bright like a match lit too fast. How the general’s orders had no room for pause. How no one ever talked about the aftermath.

And how maybe one day, if Nagi wasn’t careful, he’d be the one writing the last line in a journal that someone else would find.

He presses a hand over his chest, feeling his heart beat slow and shallow beneath his palm.

He just needs five minutes.

Then he’ll return, same as always.

Unseen.

The gorge was seep, choked in fog, and the only light came from Reo’s fists—low-burning flame knuckles that lit the dark like coals under a war drum. His squad of twenty-five benders moved in behind him with calculated silence: the Waterbenders at the rear, Earthbenders flanking the sides, and Nagi was center-back, one step behind Reo. Always watching.

The mission had been clear: infiltrate the enemy’s supply outpost, destroy all ammunition and weapon catches, and leave nothing usable behind. Nothing.

Reo’s words before the operation still echoed in Nagi’s mind: “We move fast. We don’t hesitate. We finish it before dawn.”

But Nagi had felt it then. That edge in Reo’s voice. The one that had been creeping in more and more lately. Sharp. Tired. Tightly coiled like a fuse just waiting to fire.

And now, as they peered down the cliff side at the compound—just a few towers and open crates under loose canvas—Nagi felt it again. The burn of something about to break.

Reo’s eyes track the silhouettes moving between tents and barrels. Works, most of them. Barely armored. Not trained fighters. Not prepared for what’s coming.

“Orders?” Kunigami, to Reo’s left, murmurs.

Reo didn’t blink. “We collapse the back wall. Earthbenders move first. Firebenders take the crates. Waterbenders on suppression. Air—”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He looks over his shoulder at Nagi, “no one leaves standing.”

Nagi frowns. He won’t kill anybody. He’s not like Reo—like everyone else here. No person shall take their last breath by his hands or his bending. “There are civilians.”

“They’re loading weapons for the enemy. Weapons that will be used to harm us. That’s not civilian work.”

”That’s survival work,” Nagi counters. He doesn’t plead. He doesn’t beg. Begging will get him nowhere with Reo. “We don’t know their reasons.”

Reo’s jaw clenches. Maybe Nagi hit a nerve. Maybe he’s finally scratching the surface. “We don’t get to care. If we leave this place intact, they’ll use it against our own next week. Bachira, Isagi, and Zantetsu—your best friends—and everyone you’ve met in the three weeks of being here… they could be dead because we didn’t finish this mission.”

He turns away before Nagi could respond and, without warning, launches himself from the cliff.

The air cracks with heat as Reo shoots down in a blaze of red and gold, his flames trailing behind him like wings. He crashes down into the center of the compound, scattering workers in every direction, and igniting both palms with a roar of fire.

“Move out!” Reo shouts, and the squad of twenty-five immediately follow.

Earthbenders slam their fists down and buckle the perimeter wall. Water surges into the lower trenches. Fire scorches through Socrates of explosives. Screams rose. People fled.

Nagi drops down last, air whipping around him in a cyclone as he tries to track Reo, but he couldn’t. The fire is masking everything. Reo wasn’t leading, he was charging. Sprinting ahead of his team, his attacks wild, his rage burning white-hot. He didn’t aim. He burned.

When Nagi sees him—a man with no helmet or armor, just a cloth bag over one shoulder and a desperate look in his eyes—his heart drops. The man runs from the flames, hands empty, feet pounding in the dirt.

A worker.

Probably terrified.

Then, Reo turns, and sees him too.

He doesn’t hesitate. He gathers fire in his right hand, almost too much fire, and hurls it like a spear.

A scream rips from Nagi’s throat, loud and terrified. “Reo!”

But it was already flying.

The fire hits the man dead center. He crumples in one shriek. His body lights up. Flames clung to his skin.

The smell—burnt hair, burning flesh—punches Nagi’s stomach so hard he stops breathing for a moment. He has to use his bending to expand his lungs because he was so shocked he couldn’t do it on his own.

That was it. That was enough.

Nagi launches forward, riding a tunnel of wind so sharp it slices through the fire haze. He crashes into Reo’s shoulder-first with the force of a tank and sends Reo flying, then unleashes a blast of compressed air point-blank into his chest to throw him off guard but not hurt him.

Reo hits the ground hard. Just as hard as Nagi thought he would. Enough to make a point, but not exactly harm him. He skids, rolls, and gasps when he loses his breath. Reo comes up panting, half on one knee with flame already surging again. One hand is flat on his chest as he chases the breath he lost in the hit.

But when he sees Nagi, and when he really sees him, Reo’s flame falters. Like a child who has done wrong. It’s shattering to look at—but Nagi’s angry.

Nagi stands tall, wind roaring around him like a boundary, his white hair whipping, his gray eyes (no, sharp and silver, in the light) burning with the fury of a thousand suns.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Nagi’s voice cuts like a whip. That anger comes from deep within, and if he wasn’t on duty, Reo might’ve flinched. But he doesn’t. “That man wasn’t a soldier. He was running. And you just—“

”I had too, they were my orders.” Reo narrows his eyes, inhaling a large breath, feeling it fill his lungs once more. “He would’ve—“

”No. No, he wouldn’t. He was scared. He was trying to live.”

Reo stands back up, posture tight with his fists clenched, his flame is now gone. All his sparks are gone. It’s dim where they are now, the only light is the distant burning of crates. “It’s a war, Nagi.” He says coldly, like the leader he’s been carved out to be.

“So that means we lose ourselves?” Nagi stares at him with pleading eyes. No, begging, like he’s trying to make Reo see him.

Reo doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know what to say to that. Maybe that’s what his father meant about him going soft.

The squad had gone quiet. Flames died around them. Earthbenders had stopped moving crates. Even Shidou looked uncertain now, brows pulled together, sweat and ash sticking to his cheek as he stands next to Otoya, another Firebender.

Nagi ignores them all. He steps forward, voice softer now. “You didn’t even hear me when I called you. You were just… gone.”

Reo looks anywhere besides Nagi, at the soldiers around him. The people he’s supposed to lead.

”You keep saying you’re the weapon, but what happens when the weapon turns on the people who follow it?”

Reo flinches like he’s been struck by lightning all over again.

“I said no survivors.”

“And I said don’t destroy yourself.” Nagi whispers.

A beat.

Reo exhales shakily, unsteady. The last of his fire curls at his fingertips, then vanishes. He turns, looks over his shoulder at Nagi, face dead-pan. “Next time you defy an order, you answer to General Renzai.”

Nagi doesn’t say a word as he watches Reo walk away.

The squad moves in near-silence through the woods, their footsteps muffled by the damp leaves and lingering weight of what had just happened. No one joked. No one bragged. The usual post-mission chatter had evaporated, scorched clean by the fire and the scream that still rang in Nagi’s ears.

None of the soldiers in the academy have seen anybody defy an order that prince Reo Mikage had given them. Everyone knew that Reo was the Firelord’s son, that he had a reputation to uphold, and the strength of a thousand suns to back him up. Next to Shidou, he was the most powerful Firebender in the academy.

Nagi walks near the rear, his pace steady but slow, arms folded loosely over his chest. He hasn’t spoken to Reo since the confrontation. He couldn’t. Not yet.

“Nagi.”

Chigiri’s voice breaks through the hush. He jogs up beside him, red hair damp with sweat and mist, eyes scanning Nagi’s face.

Kunigami falls into step on Nagi’s other side. Broader, quiet as always, his face unreadable.

“You okay?” Chigiri asks, not pushing, not prodding. Just asking,

Nagi blinks once, keeping his gaze forward. “I’m fine.”

I feel sick to my stomach. I want to go home. I don’t want to be here anymore.

Kunigami doesn’t say anything at first. Then, after a long moment, “you stopped him.”

“I had too.” Nagi mumbles. But can I do it again? Will he let me?

Chigiri hesitates, “he would’ve burnt that guy alive.”

”He did.” Nagi says. His voice is steady, but underneath, it cracks. “You didn’t see his face. He wasn’t armed. He wasn’t even fighting.”

I’m not meant to be here.

It’s wrong.

This is all so wrong.

Neither of them respond immediately. Just the sound of their footsteps over wet leaves and birds echoing somewhere distant.

“You did the right thing,” Kunigami finally says quietly so nobody but them can hear. “Between you and me—I’m only here because of the money they send back to support our families. I got a little sister to worry about, to see if she can grow up and live a normal life. So, if it means anything, not all of us fully believe in the cause. We have to keep it on the down-low because there’s consequences if you defy. So.. you did the right thing, I think.”

”Even if it makes him hate me?” Nagi asks. If Reo really does hate him, then shit can start to go downhill for him very quickly.

Chigiri shakes his head. “If he hates you for stopping him, that’s not your fault. That’s his war to fight.”

They walk a bit longer in silence until Chigiri breaks it again. “But he won’t hate you.”

Nagi turns to him slowly, raising a brow.

“Because if there’s anyone he’ll listen too,” Chigiri’s mouth twitches in the barest hint of a sad smile, “it’s you.”