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Chapter Text

Zuko felt the ringing in his ear before he threw his loafers into the locker and slammed the door shut. He held the sneakers he'd pulled out, glaring holes through them as he knelt down to slide them on. People had avoided making eye contact with him since that morning, as if they could see the thundercloud that had darkened his mood all day.

Aang peered from the other side.

“What?” Zuko scowled, as he finished tying the laces.

“Hello to you, too,” Aang greeted back, friendlier. He frowned. “Did something happen?”

That was a loaded question; he had avoided all of his friends the entire school day after his disastrous fight with Mai and subsequent breakup after first period. Guilt singed him, but he was too angry to talk to anybody, even Aang.

Eyes hardening, he stood to full height. “Mai broke up with me.”

Aang’s eyes widened in surprise. “When?”

He shrugged one shoulder, heaving his backpack strap over it. “After first period. So, this morning.”

“What happened?” They fell into step as they walked down the hall. Aang was like a magnet for attention on their way, people stopping to say goodbye to him or Aang fist-bumping with fists Zuko didn't care to recognize. Haru and Teo passed them on the way and waved to Aang before they turned the corner. Zuko’s eyes stared straight ahead, but if Aang noticed that his eyes silently searched for a pair of twin buns bobbing in the hallway, he didn’t comment.

“I—she,” Zuko struggled to find the right words, face pinching. “She doesn’t even like her mom! How could she say that mine is just as bad?!”

Aang frowned in confusion. “Huh?”

Zuko’s fingers curled, nails biting into his palms. “She thinks my mom is trying to push me away, but what would she know? She's always telling me how her mother treats her like dirt and she just takes it. That woman told her to shut up when she complained about having to go to another one of her father’s dinner parties, Aang. Michi doesn’t even give her the time of day! At least my mom risked her life for me.”

“So,” there was distant thunder coming from outside, “are you upset that Mai called Ursa a bad mom or that she just ‘takes’ whatever her mom gives her?”

Zuko didn't answer except for the steam that wafted from his nostrils, coming out silvery white. The smoke dissolved when they finally stepped out of the building, stopping at the front steps. The sky had turned ash-grey, on the brink of a rainfall. Other students started piling into their cars or walking home. But Zuko’s eyes were glued on only one.

If it weren’t for her signature twin buns, he would have recognized her instantly from the glossy finish of her black hair, almost blue under sunlight. Mai was accompanied by a handstanding Ty Lee, books cradled in her arms as they started walking towards the long, sleek car that was waiting for them, the driver holding the door open.

Ty Lee gracefully flipped to her feet and slid inside. Mai followed, and Zuko wished she would sense his stare, maybe pulled to it like a turtleduckling to the water. He couldn’t stop staring even after the driver shut the door and got into the car. Its engine groaned and pulled off of the curb, disappearing past the tall, spiky gates.

Aang’s eyes stayed on him the entire time. “We’re all going to Narook’s Seaweed Noodlery,” he said. “Sokka wants to prepare for our oral presentations. You should come with us.”

“I can't. My Mom’s picking me up soon,” Zuko said, checking the time on his phone. No incoming messages from his mother, but there were a few from Iroh about fire flakes he picked up from the local market and a new drink he invented for the Jasmine Dragon. “But… thanks.”

“Of course.” Aang clapped a hand on his shoulder, giving a warm smile. “And about Mai… I obviously don’t know the whole story, but maybe try to consider what she’s trying to tell you, alright?”

Zuko didn’t deign a response as Aang darted down the steps. He saw that the rest of their friends were already sitting on Appa's saddle. Katara and Toph looked like they were bickering while Sokka and Suki leaned against each other, shoulder to shoulder. Aang hopped onto the front of the saddle with a speech to rival Ty Lee's acrobatics, grabbing the reins. With a strong gust of wind and a hoarse groan, Appa levitated from the ground and disappeared into the darkening clouds.

Zuko watched them leave before he slumped onto the first step of the staircase, idly running a hand through his shaggy hair. He’d started growing out after his mother had come back into his life. She said she liked seeing it up in a topknot or the ponytail he used to wear when he was younger, before she left. Truthfully, Zuko hated having his hair long after the times Azula would pull at the strands just to irritate him or the way it made the back of his neck itch. Uncle had said he didn’t need to sacrifice his comfort at Ursa’s behest, but Zuko didn’t mind. He would do anything to make her smile at him the way she used to.

He spent the next fifteen minutes scrolling on his phone while he waited. She must have gotten held up by traffic. Republic City was always at its busiest during this time, especially with oncoming rain based on the continuous waves of thunder overhead. He started drumming his fingers on his knee, looking up periodically on the chance her dark burgundy car appeared.

A single droplet of rain fell on the back of his hand, jerking him in surprise. Another got him on his head, and Zuko grumbled. Great. Fantastic. Fucking hogmonkeys.

Behind him, the doors flew open. His nails dug into his knees this time when he heard obnoxious peals of laughter coming from—

“—then Master Pee-an-dao starts going ‘You must respect the integrity of the craftsmanship of swords,’ so I carved what’s up buttwad on the metal.” Ruon-Jian’s bragging voice grated on Zuko’s ears. Zuko had to close his eyes and inhale deeply as their footsteps drew closer. “And then—Zhuli?”

“It’s Zuko,” Zuko snapped, glaring up at Mai’s ex-boyfriend and his personal mortal nemesis. Especially after that one time he’d stuck a wad of gum in Zuko's hair. Uncle ended up having to shave a chunk of it off before school portraits. It became the second most trending meme on social media sites.

Next to Ruon-Jian, Chan snickered. Zuko remembered him after that one time he’d been asked about Azula's dating status. Zuko had told him Azula would strike him with lightning bolts even after he was fried. “Where’s your little ragtag of misfits?”

Zuko's eyes narrowed. “They’re not misfits." 

"Right." Chan's smirk lifted an inch. "You've got the blind Beifong girl, too. I've seen her when her parents invite mine for brunch. Hey, is it true she thinks she can see with her feet?"

"Oh, they gotta be," Ruon-Jian laughed. "I saw her and that Water Tribe rat duking it out in a mud pit last week. I'll give it to you, Zukes. Those two are rat-batshit insane, but they're kinda hot."

On impulse, Zuko's fists clenched into his knees. He felt the fire inside him rise the longer the duo taunted him, feeling it trying to prod through his fingertips and trembling to burn something when Ruon-Jian continued, “Although. I heard Mai’s back on the market. I guess your scar was too much, even for a freak like her.”

That did it. Zuko practically flew to his feet and swung a fist at Ruon-Jian’s nose. The other boy narrowly ducked and dragged Chan with him.

“Whoa, take it easy, man,” Chan laughed. “We're just messing around.”

“Oh, I can show you messing around,” Zuko snarled, but the two only chuckled at him like he was some harmless animal they found from the back of a window in a petshop. “Bring it on!”

“Nah, man. It’s not worth it,” Ruon-Jian said, saluting him a farewell with two fingers. “See ya, Scar Face!”

Zuko grit his teeth as the two bolted, laughter echoing down the way they left. He thought of chasing them down and making them eat their words, but the anger dulled as more rain started falling. With a growl, he sat back down and continued waiting for his mother.

An hour passed and she still hadn’t arrived. Then two. And now three. Even after-school sports and clubs had long since ended since he first sat at the front steps. Bouncing a ball or staring at his phone. He even tried meditating to kill time and couldn’t achieve a blank mind. Anxiety wrapped itself like a noose around his neck. Was Mom okay? Did she get into an accident?

Did she just forget?

Eventually, the clouds split open and droplets fell like blades of water into the earth. Lowering his head in defeat, Zuko yanked the hood of his jacket to protect his head from the downpour. His phone was losing his battery, and he’d need to preserve it until he was at his mother's. Maybe she’d fallen asleep longer than she was supposed to and still hadn’t woken up. Or traffic had gotten busier because of the rain. Or she might have caught a cold and there was no one to drive in her place. It made more sense. She would never just forget him.

Rain pattered on the sidewalk, the roofs of the local buildings, and drenched his hoodie. He passed by a group of tourists from the Earth Kingdom taking photos of an Avatar Yangchen statue. His shoes squelched with each step he took, the soles muddied from the times he walked on the grass to cut across the distance. His mother’s house was a twenty minute drive from Uncle Iroh’s, making it an even longer walk in spite of light traffic.

Mai’s words replayed in his head, like an insistent buzzing in his ears that wouldn’t stop. “I don’t know, Zuko,” she had sighed, “it just seems like she’s looking for any excuse to spend less time with you.”

But that wasn’t true! Mother loved him, he knew that in every inch of his body. She had risked her life for him since he was born. Father had once told him he was lucky to be born, after the disaster of his birth.

“It was quite shameful,” Father had said. “A firebender born in the dead of the night, in the middle of winter. You’d have been better off floating in one of the poles had it not been for her mother’s insistence.”

Mother had held him the entire night, until he was able to breathe by himself at the first crack of sunrise.

He was thinking so hard that he hadn’t realized he was going near the more vacant areas of the city. Shadows wreathed the side, illuminated by a single, flickering lamppost.

“Well, look at what we have here.”

Head shooting up in surprise, Zuko raised an eyebrow to find a dark green car pulling up to the curb. The passenger side of the window had been rolled down, revealing familiar bronze eyes of an older man with mutton chops running down the sides of his face. He met Zuko’s narrowed-eye gaze with a smirk, a single hand on the steering wheel. “It’s been quite a while, Zuko.”

“Zhao,” Zuko said, giving the man the stink eye. Zhao drove the car at a moth-snail’s pace to keep up with his pace. “I didn't think I'd ever see you set foot into this city. Has my father finally demoted you?”

“Actually, I’m handling Fire Industries’ accounts in its Republic City location.” Zhao's smile widened. “Awfully terrible weather to be taking a nightly stroll. May I ask where you’re headed?”

“Home.”

“Must be far if you’re soaked,” he chuckled. Zuko tightened his jaw, but refused to give the damned Admiral more attention than necessary. “I saw lightning up ahead not too ago. It’s probably not safe to be walking right now. Why don’t you let me take you home? We can even get reacquainted on the way there.”

“Sorry, but I have more pressing matters than to be reacquainted,” Zuko said, rolling his eyes. Last he remembered, Zhao was a part of his father’s subordinates under Fire Industries. He couldn’t recall what position he held, but he knew it had something to do with the company’s offshore accounts. Zuko had despised that man, both for that travesty of facial hair and how often he tried to humiliate Zuko whenever he found the opportunity. Like that one time he ‘accidentally’ spilled wine on Zuko’s jacket right before he was supposed to attend one of Father’s business dinners.

But Zhao barreled on. “Are you sure? How long has it been, three years? I must say, they’ve been quite kind to you. You’re almost as tall as your father was at your age.”

While the flattery was pleasant, Zuko still treaded forward. He didn’t know what Zhao was angling at, given that he was disowned for the time being, but he wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. No matter how tempting it seemed to punch that arrogant grin off his face.

Zuko stopped, turning his head to stare at Zhao. He slowed the car to a stop, and Zuko asked, “What is it that you want, Zhao? How’d you even find me?”

“You act as though I was stalking you,” Zhao simpered. “I saw you walking alone and thought you might use the company. I’ll even let you have a sip of this wine I got at your father’s country club.”

He picked up a bottle of wine from its neck, waving it slightly. Zuko was eyeing him with disinterest. “How’d you know it was me?”

Zhao’s nostrils huffed air, almost a derisive snort. “You weren’t very hard to miss given the…”

He purposefully let his words trail off, smirk widening as his eyes slid to the left side of Zuko’s face. Zuko felt the tip of his ears burn.

“Argh, just leave me alone!” Zuko finally screamed, giving the man a glare that could beat the heat from a thousand suns.

He started storming off, splashing smaller puddles gathered on the ground, entirely turning his back on Zhao. As soon as he got to Mother’s he was making a beeline to the shower to wash the rain from his hair and taking the time to curse every waking second of Zhao’s miserable life—

Something like glass shattered behind him, and everything went black.

Disorientation was the first thing Zuko came to. Pain was the second.

His head hurt. Especially the back, a blisteringly, radiating ache that persisted when he tried to bury his head into the sheets. It was almost like when he’d first woken up after the scar, when doctors had given him pain medication to dull the pain.

He was moving to press his fingers against his eyes, hoping to subside the headache, when he found that there was a resistance, followed by rattling.

Blinking rapidly, Zuko’s eyes adjusted. But when he squinted, he still couldn’t see anything beyond the outline of a ceiling fan. He tugged on his arm again, when he heard the same metallic, clinking noise.

Fire burst from his palm, illuminating the metal cuff wrapped around his wrist, attached to a chain wrapped around a bedpost, or at least he assumed it was a bedpost. Eyes blowing wide in confusion, Zuko looked at his other hand and it was in the same predicament. Again, he pulled at his arms, but neither would budge. When he tried moving his legs, he was horrified to see that they were chained the same way.

Was this another nightmare? He hadn’t had those in months since he’d gotten burned. Night after night of horrible images prostrating over his father, fire consuming his entire vision, and flashes of streetlights until they cleared into being wheeled into the burn unit when they’d sprayed water over that side of his face to remove the damaged tissue. But none of his nightmares had ever had him chained to what he assumed was a bed.

Trying to raise his aching head as much as he could, he took a long look at the layout. It appeared to be a dark, windowless room with only a bed. His neck strained at the limited movement he had, and he lit his other hand. Beyond the orange glow of the fire, he saw a wall full of shelves and weapons strapped to hooks. More chains littered the floor, broomsticks and mops leaned against the corners of the walls. Drawers and an armoire. There were several ice barrels hiding behind a tower of cardboard boxes.

Where, he jerked his arms again, in the fresh fuck was he?

Light suddenly pooled into the room, a broad-shouldered silhouette cast over his smaller frame. Zuko tightened his glare and stretched his neck as up as he could when Zhao’s footsteps echoed closer into the room, door slamming shut behind him.

Zhao held a single candle up, his punchable smirk luminous under an orange-red glow. “How are you liking accommodations, Zuko?”

Zuko’s teeth ground together, the chains that trapped him clanked as he jerked his wrists back and forth, wild eyed like a feral beast. “What is the meaning of this?!”

“My, my,” Zhao hummed. “Three years away have done little to temper your tongue. It’s a wonder your father had dealt with you for as long as he could.”

Zuko felt the corner of his lip curl. “You don’t know anything about my father!” His fists steamed, knuckles itching to knock out several of Zhao’s teeth. “Let me out of these chains right now!”

“Hmm. No,” Zhao said, without a speck of sincerity. He stared down at Zuko’s starfished form with no small amount of smugness and victory, like he’d captured a revered polar bear-dog in the poles.

He walked around the edge of the bed, and his eyes never strayed from Zuko’s. It was infuriating at how the man took a seat on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping with his weight.

“You know,” Zhao started conversationally, “I’ve always taken a shine on you, Zuko. Of course, you were quite an unstoppable spirit if I may say. You'll have to forgive me when I say I haven't thought about you much since you were sent away. Seeing you tonight stirred some old feelings.”

Zuko’s face spasmed between rage and confusion while in the midst of his short speech, Zhao’s larger hand laid over Zuko’s stomach. His eyes flit down, lines forming between his brow. 

It was then that he finally realized he was completely naked.

Taken utterly by surprise, Zuko felt his entire face flame in embarrassment, all the way down to his neck. He hadn’t initially noticed past the ever-growing panic that he’d been stripped down to the point where his entire body was openly on display.

“You bastard!” Flames licked between his teeth, the embers lighting Zhao’s grinning face until they died as quickly as they’d come. “Release me immediately!” He felt his inner flame pulse like a second heartbeat.

He cried out when Zhao backhanded him across the face. He didn’t even have time to recover when he felt the man's weight press on top of him.

Zhao’s breath was hot as he leaned too close into his face. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this day, little prince,” he said. “The minute I saw you, I knew I had to have you.”

Zuko’s entire body flinched when he felt a hand clasp his hip, right where the bone started. Zhao’s thumb rubbed a circle over the spot, a mockery of an attempt to soothe. 

Zuko squirmed, trying with his might to expel the man’s weight off him. “What are you even talking about?" he demanded. "What do you want from me?”

He didn’t receive an answer as Zhao blew the candle out and discarded it somewhere on the floor. Zuko watched as he reached to the side of the bed, turning on a lamp that had been resting on a nightstand Zuko had seen prior. Half of the man’s face disappeared into the shadow, away from the light.

“I want you, Zuko. I’ve always wanted you," Zhao said, a pool of black widening in his pupils as his lips brushed against Zuko's scarred cheek. "And tonight, I’m finally going to have you.”

Both hands ran up the length of Zuko’s sides, squeezing his hips, his thighs. Almost as if Zhao and Zuko were intimate lovers, and a sinking, dreadful realization was starting to swell at the base of his chest. But it just didn’t feel possible. Even with the hands—bigger than his own—now on his thighs, just above his knees.

Zuko’s skin jumped as Zhao’s head lowered into the crook of his neck, taking a deep inhale; as if he wanted to preserve his scent. Zuko opened his mouth, but the words died on his lips when he felt Zhao’s hand trace the edge of his scar. The entire time Zuko jerked and twisted his body at the most he could, given his restraints.

“Take your filthy hands off me!” Zuko screamed, teeth slamming over Zhao’s ear.

Zhao gasped, snatching his entire head out of Zuko’s neck as his hand flew to his now-bleeding ear. His pupils thinned and he smacked the other side of Zuko’s face, forcing his unscarred sheet to smack into the sheet. Black spots swam in his vision, then he felt fingers grab his chin and yank his face back to Zhao’s glowering one.

“Do that again,” Zhao breathed, the lines of his face becoming more pronounced. With the lamp’s light, Zuko saw smoke coming out from his nostrils. He smelled it a second later. “And I’ll make you regret it.”

Without another word, Zhao’s entire weight sank into Zuko’s as he started feeling saliva trail up the length of his scar. Zuko made a choked sound of disgust, grimacing when Zhao started sucking on the leathery flesh. “Stop that! Get off!”

But his demands fell on deaf ears as those lips seared a path into his scar, the tip of his nose, the knot of his throat, his chest, and he stilled when he felt those same lips close over his nipple.

An undignified squeaky noise came out of him as Zhao started sucking at the areola with determination. Zuko felt all of his muscles contract when he felt the edges of teeth graze the shockingly sensitive flesh. Zhao wasn’t as enormous compared to his father or even Sokka and Katara's father, but he still packed on more muscle compared to Zuko. That didn’t stop him from thrashing under the former Admiral.

“You may be an honorless knave, but goodness spirits do you have an amazing body,” Zhao said, switching over to the other nipple. Something pleasant-but-unpleasant tingled down Zuko’s spine as Zhao’s fingers came to the unattended nipple and gave it a single, firm pinch. “So firm, so soft. I see your Uncle hasn’t shirked your firebending lessons, nor your swordfighting if I recall. I bet you have an incredible ass.”

“Don’t you talk about my Uncle.” It came from deep in his chest and thick black smoke puffed out from between his lips. Zuko wriggled when he felt Zhao’s hands on his hips again, this time heating up until he could feel the sting. He stiffened when he heard the tell-tale sound of a zipper coming undone, followed by a thick, hard length pressing against his thigh.

Zhao cupped the edge of his jaw, thumb stroking his cheekbone. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.”

Zuko’s eyes stared daggers as Zhao spit into his palm and reached down. His entire body went rigid when he felt the tip of Zhao’s penis bob between his clenched cheeks. Zhao slid his grasp from his hips to his rear, spreading it apart. Zuko’s chest heaved as he looked behind Zhao’s shoulder. Sweat started to bead from his forehead despite the chilled air.

Something stung when it pressed in, a small noise threatening to rip from his taut lips. He felt his entire lower half pressing down on that pressure, trying to push it out. But Zhao had other ideas.

In a single, hard thrust, all of Zhao sank inside.

A bolt of lightning ran through his entire spine, making it arch painfully off the bed as his lips simultaneously pulled from his teeth. Uneven, erratic bursts of black-grey smoke burst out, tiny slivers of dark red embers hiding underneath. A howling noise tore out of him.

“Fuck,” they both said for very different reasons. A laugh exhaled out of Zhao as he gave Zuko’s damp temple a single peck. He pulled out until the tip only remained, and something hot pressed against the backs of Zuko's eyes. Zhao thrust in again, Zuko’s body jumping with the momentum. It didn't stop, and it only grew faster from there.

“You’re so tight.” The whisper brushed against his ear. Somebody was screaming. Wailing. Wordless cries for murder. “Ungh. Yangchen’s sake, you feel amazing.”

Zuko struggled against him, a strangled sound catching in his throat as the thrusts became more brutal than the last. Zhao’s hands couldn’t seem to decide where to stay, first from his hips, fingers grazing the dips of his ribs, then his neck. His eyes threatened to pop out of their sockets when those fingers squeezed. Zuko’s shrieking was abruptly cut off as the edges of his vision darkened. He strained for breath, until his flailing started to cease and his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

Zhao stared at the limp body beneath as he pulled halfway out of him. He needed to take a minute to admire the stunning boy beneath. Zuko had always been something of a beauty, when Zhao first laid eyes on him. From his cream-colored skin to the dark, shoulder-length hair that used to be tied high up on the crown of his head, the soft shape of his body. He felt himself growing harder looking at him now.

The best part of planning was happy accidents. Like in Wan Shi Tong, He Who Knows Ten Thousand Things. When he discovered the Northern Water Tribe’s greatest secret. It was a shame he’d been court-martialed for it and dishonorably discharged. But Ozai had seen something in him, a brighter spark. And Zhao delivered at Fire Industries when he found the chance. Jumping at the opportunity to transfer to Republic City? His lucky shot.

Pulling the rest of himself out, Zhao leaned down, lips closing over Zuko’s slack ones. They were just as plush as he’d imagined. He puffed air into his mouth to return oxygen. Finding Zuko in the street had been a happy accident. Zhao barely had the time to even buy takeout after settling into the city and his new position. Seeing Zuko again, after all these years…

Coughing erupted below him and Zhao took the opportunity to stroke the bruise smarting around his cheek with his thumb. Zuko’s lashes fluttered up at him as the remnants of his sputtering subsided. Bright gold eyes met his when Zhao shoved his fingers into Zuko’s mouth.

“Suck,” he ordered.

In lieu of a response, Zuko bit him.

“Gah!” Those teeth only tightened when Zhao tried yanking his fingers out, so he wrapped his other hand around the brat’s neck again. But that only seemed to spur the boy on, belligerent glare tattooed across his face until Zhao finally resorted to slamming his fist into his nose.

Blood gushed from Zuko’s nose, smearing the space between nostrils and upper lip. As punishment, Zhao pushed inside him again, smearing more blood and semen inside. Zuko squealed, shaking his head violently as Zhao clicked his tongue repeatedly, as though Zuko were a disobedient child with his hand sticking into a cookie jar before dinner.

“Three years, and you still haven’t learned to resist fighting,” he chided, reaching down to grab Zuko’s length, having gone limp sometime after he stopped touching his nipples. “You’ve always had such poor self-control. It’s a shame. You could have been so much more. More than what your own father would have believed. But I suppose destiny works in funny ways like that, doesn’t it? It led me back to you.”

It was the squelch of blood and skin smacking carving the space between them. Little, hitched whimpers hiccupped from Zuko, whose teeth gnashed together so hard Zhao was sure they’d turn to dust. His eyes, previously squeezed shut, flew open when Zhao started stroking.

Zuko seemed to have found his voice. “Don’t,” he said, like he’d gone long without water. “Don’t—don’t fucking touch me, you pervert.”

A small, short laugh. “I think we’re a little late for that.”

At first it was brief languid strokes, then Zhao hardened his grip and ran his palm up and down with vigor, determined to wring every drop of pleasure out of him. There was something intoxicating about taking Zuko’s virginity, being the first one to touch the boy like this and watch him unravel like a dragon in heat. He went faster, gazing into a face that was almost a mirror of Ozai’s. The son of one of the most powerful men in Fire Nation history. The Dragon of the West’s nephew. A seemingly self-taught swordsmaster if Ozai’s derision was to be believed.

Helpless sounds were being plucked out of the younger boy, hiding his wound face into his bicep, leaving only his scarred side facing Zhao. He leaned down, sucking between his neck and shoulder.

“NO!”

Wet heat spilled down the sides of Zhao’s hand, and he involuntary took a big bite out of Zuko’s neck when his walls involuntarily squeezed so unbelievably tight that Zhao almost came, his free hand biting his nails into Zuko’s spine. Silence collapsed, occupied by the creaks of Zuko’s breathing and Zhao’s heavy pants.

Groaning softly under his breath, Zhao pulled out. Zuko’s legs twitched. He crossed the room and grabbed one of empty syringes and a needle, then filled it with shirshu venom he kept in a jar.

Taking a minute to admire his work; the scattered lovebites and the faint outline of his fingers were ruddy on the graceful length of Zuko’s neck, a pair of mild second degree burns  blanketed on top of the previous hand-shaped bruises blossoming across his hips. Even his nipples looked swollen and redder than they were over an hour ago. Zhao stared down at him with reverence and triumph. He had taken Ozai’s son and made him his bitch. Almost.

“Have you ever heard of a shirshu, Zuko?” he asked rhetorically. He planted his knee near his head. He smiled as Zuko managed to summon a baleful glare, his good eye rimmed red. “They’re one of the rarest animals in the world, and for good reason, too. They can produce a venom that paralyzes almost every molecule of your body. It was a tough bargain, but certainly worth every penny.”

Zuko’s pupils shrank into pinpricks as Zhao stuck the needle into his bicep. Metal chafed as his arms protested, pulling in a desperate, last ditch plan to free themselves from the cuffs. It made an adorable sight. It abruptly stopped when Zuko’s entire body went limp, a twinkle gleaming in Zhao’s eyes.

Reaching into his shirt pocket, Zhao used the key to unlock the cuffs from both wrists. He then swung over Zuko’s prone form and grabbed a fistful of sweaty hair, forcing him to eye length with his bloodstained shaft. Zhao watched with hungry eyes as Zuko’s throat bobbed.

With his other hand, he brushed his knuckles down the rubbery stump of the boy’s ear. Zuko’s eyes steadfastly tracked every movement, like a baby moose-lion watching its ferocious predator prowl him in circles.

“We’re not finished yet,” Zhao said. A single tear slipped down Zuko’s cheek. “Open that gorgeous mouth.”

Stubbornly, Zuko pursed his lips.

Zhao’s fingers tightened in his hair and he punched him right across the eye. Only a muffled sound managed to come out from between lips that refused to split apart. Zhao used his hand to guide his tip across the thin line, streaking the boy's face with blood and precome. He thwacked him in the face again and again until Zuko’s mouth finally peeled apart.

Zuko’s eyes bulged as Zhao used both hands to keep his head still. He threw his head back, deep and guttural keens coming deep from within his chest. He looked down to find that the boy’s cheeks swelled like a chipmunk-mouse’s, as he watched his own cock thrust in and out wildly, hitting the back of his throat. Zuko gagged, making small protesting sounds that went ignored. More tears spilled while spit started gathering at the rings of his cracked lips. Zhao was high on all of it.

Then those damned teeth suddenly sunk into his sensitive flesh. Eyes bursting open, Zhao came as he pulled Zuko’s face back, semen spraying from his forehead to neck with little inhibition. He was about to hit him again when Zuko said, voice wrung out and face ashen, “I’m gonna throw up.”

Not unlike a Fire Nation volcano, hot and wet vomit erupted and splattered across the both of them.

Knock. Knock.

Iroh fastened the tie around his robe as the knocking at his door persisted. At first he thought it was another one of those delinquent’s late-night pranks. He rarely ever minded, and only made an exception after those first two weeks his nephew had moved in.

Knock. Knock. KNOCK.

“Coming!” he called, turning on the light as he ambled down the steps. Perhaps it was Toph again, wanting another break from her parents’ estate across the other side of the city. He rubbed the crust out of his eye, peeling open his curtain a fraction to find out who it was. “Ursa?”

He opened the door, face falling when he saw her long hair pulled into a haphazard ponytail and the lines in the corners of her eyes creased. They stood there a moment, eyes taking each other in.

She broke the silence first. “May I come in?”

Shaking away the remnants of sleep, Iroh nodded and stepped to the side. “Yes, of course.” Hesitantly, Ursa entered, eyes jumping between object to object under the archway. “Can I offer you some ginseng tea? It should only take a moment.”

“I’m fine, thank you,” she said, stiff as a board. “Is Zuko here?”

“Zuko?” Iroh frowned. “No. I thought he was staying with you tonight.”

Ursa turned, and Iroh’s heart began sinking as she softly shook her head. Her eyes were glazed. “He didn’t come home tonight. I checked. He wasn’t in his room or in the den. I—I… I forgot to pick him up from school”

Iroh’s eyes widened. “You what?”

“Kiyi had run down with a fever!” she said. “I lost track of time. It was only until a few hours ago that I had realized.”

Swallowing, Iroh tamped down the anger and exhaled deeply. He’d had his reservations about Zuko reconnecting with his mother, given his former sister-in-law’s estrangement from the family after his father's and Lu Ten's death, and the numerous times she had repeatedly cancelled plans on Zuko. Convincing his nephew of Ozai's abuse was one thing, but he didn't know how much longer he could take to see the disappointment in the boy's eyes after every time his mother let him down.

He did not panic. Yet. When Zuko had realized what happened, he most likely went to Aang’s house or that morose girlfriend Mai.

“Have you called one of his friends?” he asked, keeping his voice measured and calm, almost disturbingly practiced from his time in the military.

Ursa hiccupped. “I called Aang,” she said. “His was the only number I knew.”

“Alright.” Iroh went into the living room and felt her footsteps follow him. He knelt down to the bottom drawer of the entertainment system where they kept the television set in, and pulled it open. When he found the bright pink slip of paper, he started dialing a number.

“I must have called him over a hundred times,” Ursa whispered. Iroh didn’t need to look up to see the pink eyes and wet cheeks and ashamed twist of her mouth. Without the natural-look of her makeup, she looked far older. More tired. “I thought he’d might have been upset with me, so Ikem searched the neighborhood and asked people in the area if they’d seen him. Nothing came up.”

It was on the third ring when a groggy, sullen voice answered. “Hello?”

“Hello, Lady Mai,” Iroh said, bringing a smile to his face.

“General Iroh?” Mai’s voice, tinged with exhaustion, sounded confused. He heard sheets rustling on the other line.

Normally Iroh would have apologized for the inconvenience of waking her up in the middle of the night, but time was of the essence. “Is Zuko with you?”

There was a pindrop of silence. “We broke up this morning. Or, I guess, yesterday morning.”

That was not what Iroh was expecting. Part of him didn’t know what to feel. If this were another time, he might have been relieved, despite the young girl's good standing in the Fire Nation's high society. She made Zuko happy in spite of her strange and plaintive disposition that made Iroh question whether this was the right girl for him. Especially when she used to be one of Azula’s closest friends. Had he finally broken off things for good?

“Oh.” He eyed Ursa in the corner of his eye. She looked like she was holding her breath. “I see. I am sorry to hear about that.” More silence. “So. You haven’t seen him since that morning?”

“No," she said, and if Iroh strained his ears, he might have heard the veiled concern in her voice. "I’m sorry, General Iroh.”

He closed his eyes, trying not to let the pulse in his ear overpower him. “Alright,” he said eventually. “My apologies for disturbing your slumber. If you happen to see Zuko tomorrow, can you tell him to please come to my house?”

“Yeah, sure.” It came out as more hesitant, bordering on suspicious as he cut the line.

Letting the phone drop in his hands, Iroh rose back to full height. He and Ursa stared at each other, the panic mounting.

“I’ll take that ginseng now,” Ursa said quietly.

Chapter Text

Mai listened to the disconnect tone for two seconds when she was left with a dark screen, her reflection caged in. She brushed her fringe absently, running the brief, almost uncomfortable conversation with her boyfriend’s uncle over and over in her head. Well, ex-boyfriend now.

She didn't realize until it was too late that their fight had escalated to the point it did. Part of her wished it could have ended differently, but Zuko was just like the element he wielded; aggressive, determined. Unrelenting. His scowl from that morning should have told her everything she needed to know that it would have taken very little to set him off, especially after the last incident with his mother.

“What happened?” Ty Lee had asked through a mouthful of noodles.

Mai had shrugged. “Ursa cancelled dinner with him to take Kiyi to a physical,” she’d said. “Then another time, she cut dinner short without an explanation. I don’t know. I told him it seemed like she was looking for an excuse to spend less time with him, and he got mad.”

His face had turned vermilion when she’d offhandedly made the comment between his mother and hers. Mai's mother's best talent was at dismissing her daughter with only a cutting sweep of her eyes. His mouth had steamed. Shouted, even. Made his own insensitive remark to the point she’d told him bluntly, “That’s it, I’m done. It’s over, Zuko.”

Her head hurt. She couldn't keep her mind clear from Iroh's phone call. There was something disorientating about the way he’d hedged around his questions. Like he was trying to stamp down rising nerves before they overflowed. Zuko was supposed to be staying a couple of nights at Ursa’s home. Even after their argument and subsequent breakup, Zuko wouldn’t have missed the opportunity to spend more time with Ursa. Maybe he would have vented to her about their breakup and bond over Mai being a "passionless blah."

She turned on her phone and went into her contacts, clicking Zuko’s number. She checked their last message; last night, nearing midnight, when she’d complained about the color of the sunset and he'd told her she was so beautiful when she hated the world. She'd even imagined the chuckle he would have made; a quiet, breathy sound.

I don't hate you, she'd texted in response.

I don't hate you, too.

Her fingers struck faster than one of her blades. Your uncle just called me. Where are you?

She set aside the phone on her nightstand and turned on the lamp. Sleep wouldn’t be coming to her anytime soon, so she might as well finish the last of her novel before sunrise.

The phone buzzed and her eyes squinted down at the message. To her displeasure, it wasn’t from Zuko; it was Aang.

Hey Mai! Sorry for texting so late, the message said, but Zuko’s mom was sorta blowing up my phone like an hour ago. Is Zuko at your place? He’s not answering any of my texts.

Mai read and reread the message. It stayed the same. She chewed the inside of her cheek as her thumbs darted across the screen. Don’t worry about it. Iroh called me, too. Zuko hasn’t been to my place since yesterday, and he hasn’t answered mine either.

Bubbles rapidly appeared. Oh… okay then. Will you tell me if he answers? I’ll call you too if he texts me back!

Sure. Goodnight.

Night.

She put the phone back and resumed her reading. Her eyes periodically shifted to the phone, waiting for its telltale buzz. Mai kept replaying her last words to Iroh, lips twisting into something akin to a sneer. Michi would have struck her for even thinking badly of the Dragon of the West, the former pride of the Fire Nation military, the former heir of Fire Nation Industries. And now a fat old man obsessed with tea.

But she would never say that out loud. Not even to Ty Lee.

Zuko had found it funny, though.

Mai glanced at the nightstand again, waiting for her phone to light up. If she was disappointed by the time the sun came up and her alarm went off, she simply peeled off the sheets and got ready for the day.

“Hi, Iroh!”

Iroh had been in the middle of pouring a new batch of matcha tea when he looked up. Aang greeted him with a sunny smile as he took his usual seat at the front of the counter.

“Aang,” Iroh smiled jovially, although his eyes seemed dimmer than he would have expected from someone almost as spirited as Gyatso. “Good morning! The usual?”

Aang wasn’t finished nodding when Iroh started grabbing the teacup and plate of fresh baked moon balls. He yawned, jaw cracking with the movement. He’d had trouble going back to sleep after his conversation with Mai. The rest of his night was spent talking to Katara over the phone, and she sounded just as worried as he was when he told her about Ursa's call and Mai's message. Eventually, both had drifted into sleep, but Aang still woke up with sticky eyes and a clouded mind.

Quietly, he ate the last moon ball and leaned forward, the back legs of the chair floating off the ground. “Did you hear back from Zuko?”

It was almost imperceptible, but he saw that Iroh’s smile sagged. Aang's stomach churned. “No,” Iroh said, and he sounded almost far away. “But I’m sure he will turn up. Isn’t swim practice today?”

Aang’s eyes widened. “Monkeyfeathers!” He slapped a hand over his tattooed forehead. “I left my swimming gear at home. Bato is gonna kill me.”

His plate was taken and Iroh was pouring the rest of his tea into a to-go cup. Iroh gave a small belly-laugh. “I’m sure Gyatso would not mind dropping it off to you before practice begins.”

“Not after the fourth time.” Aang smiled cheekily as the old man made a show of shaking his head with a sigh. “Thanks for the tea, Iroh.”

“Of course. And Aang.” Iroh’s smile dropped, something tentatively serious in his face. It made Aang’s smile fall in turn. “If you happen to see Zuko today…”

“I’ll tell him you’re looking for him,” Aang promised. The smile he received was in gratitude, but Aang knew from his eyes that he needed more reassurance. “Don’t worry, Uncle. He’s probably just hiding out at another friend’s.”

“Yes,” Iroh said, his smile flimsy. “Of course.”

The flight to school was a short one; Gyatso had recommended it after Appa had gained some weight since moving to Republic City. Aang didn’t mind. He missed the feeling of brushing his head through the clouds. Feeling the shape of the wind over his skin. It almost felt like before. Him and Gyatso, traveling across the nations. Returning to the Southern Air Temple and playing air ball with his friends and throwing pies at the older monks. But now they lived in a city and had things like a permanent address and residency. It’d been hard, at first. Staying rooted to one place. The monks back in the Southern Air Temple had vehemently disapproved, but whatever Gyatso had said to quell their anger worked.

For now, at least.

With a small tug of the reins, Aang steered Appa towards his usual parking space. Other kids who were nearby only had seconds to duck when a ten ton air bison stomped on the pavement. It made a small cloud of dust as Aang grabbed his bag and leapt down. His clothes moved with the wind as he landed.

“One of these days that bison is gonna crush somebody,” a voice said.

“Come on, Appa's flying's not that bad,” Aang laughed, hitching up the single strap of his bag.

Toph blew on the hair almost curtaining her milky, sightless eyes. “If you say so,” she said. “Is Torchlight with you?”

Aang’s good-natured mood immediately dropped. Well, he now knew Zuko wasn’t hiding at Toph’s place last night. “I guess Iroh hasn’t called you yet.”

Her brows knit, her thumb pressed on the top of the metal cane her parents had forced on her. "He messaged me this morning," she said. "Did Zuko really not come home?"

“No," Aang said, "Ursa called me, like, ten times in the middle of the night. I asked Mai, too. He wasn't at her place since the, um, y'know. I was kind of hoping he was at your place.”

“Not with the security my parents have,” Toph snorted, her cane tapping on the ground as they walked into the building together. Aang had made sure to rub Appa’s snout goodbye before they left. “Zuko and I don’t share any classes. I thought he was supposed to have dinner with his mom after school?”

“I guess they never went.” Aang bit his lip as they rounded a corner. A few people waved hi to Aang. He halfheartedly waved back. “Iroh hasn’t seen him since yesterday morning.”

Both of Toph’s eyebrows raised, until she shrugged one shoulder. “That’s not great,” she said. “But Sparkles probably stayed with Sweetness and Snoozles, although it's usually you or Knives as his go-to when he’s pissed at his mom.”

Aang's frown deepened. "Katara and I talked all last night. She and Sokka haven't seen Zuko since we left for Narook's."

The sound of Toph's cane on the floor faltered for a split second. "Have you talked to Suki?"

"No."

"Then he's gotta be at her place," Toph said with a shrug. "It's the only other place that makes sense. Torch wouldn't last a day without a cushy roof over his head."

Zuko and Suki weren't very close, or not close enough to stay at the others' place. And it wasn't like Zuko to just not come to his mother's even if he was rightfully upset with her. But he didn't want to think the worst like Zuko undoubtedly would if they had swapped places.

"Yeah, maybe that's it."

“Atta boy.” Faster than a lightning bolt, Toph’s fist punched him square in the arm.

“Ow!”

Toph cackled as she ducked into the classroom, taking her usual seat from the back while Aang slid into the one beside hers. She propped her feet up and crossed them at the ankles, leaning back. He shook his head at her but said nothing.

First period came and went. Aang’s eyes had glazed over at some point during their teacher's lectures. Technology and innovation was more of Sokka’s thing than his, although watching video demonstrations of explosions was kind of cool. His mind drifted to Zuko in spite of his best efforts. Zuko was probably fine; as soon as class was over, he would find Suki and ask her.

“Class dismissed!” Sai—Teo's father and Sokka's favorite teacher—clapped his hands together, his monocle slid down slightly.

Students shuffled out of their seats and filtered into the hallway. Toph was still picking at her nose with her feet propped up so Aang was the first of them to leave. He effortlessly weaved through the crowd, an orange and yellow blot bobbing in a sea of reds, greens, and neutral browns.

There was a single speck of blue among them.

“Katara!”

Startled, Katara looked up from her phone and gave Aang a bright smile as he made a beeline for her. She wore her hair in twin braids today, he noticed with a small blush. Her hair loops were still in place, the stone of her mother’s necklace glimmering.

“Hi, Aang.” Katara’s hand went to her hair, patting it as if to make sure the braids were secure.

“You’re just the person I wanted to see,” Aang grinned.

“I am?” Her cheeks turned a ruddy red. “Why’s that?”

“Have you seen Suki?"

Immediately her smile dropped. “Suki?” Katara repeated. “No, not since we left Narook's last night. Unless she snuck into Sokka's room again. She's probably on her way here with Sokka. Why?”

Aang deflated, then swallowed hard. “Oh,” he said, quieter. “I thought… that since Zuko wasn't your place or Toph's last night, he might have gone to Suki's.”

“What?” Katara shook her head, her frown deepening. “I mean, maybe! He and Suki are kinda friendly, but I still don't understand. Wasn't he supposed to have dinner with his mom last night?”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too!” And evidently, once again, Ursa had forgotten. Even if that didn’t feel fair for Aang to judge her when he didn’t have all of the information, he couldn’t help the frustration bubbling in his stomach. At least based on the things Zuko had vented to him about over texts. “Even Mai hasn’t seen him since yesterday.”

Katara opened her mouth, as if to say something, when the rest of their friends showed.

“Stupid haikus, and rich, judgemental Earth Kingdom girls, five seven syllables," Sokka was grumbling nonsense under his breath, his fingers woven with Suki’s. Toph was with them, looking none impressed.

“Thanks for leaving me to defend myself, Twinkletoes,” she said, picking her nose with her pinky finger. Katara grimaced.

“Toph, we’re in public,” she scolded.

Toph smirked, flicking a booger into Katara’s direction. “Ew!” She uncorked her waterskin, flicking a skinny stream of water into the shorter girl’s forehead.

“Ow!” Toph’s foot tensed on the floor when Suki held an arm out in front of her.

“Ladies, you’re both beautiful, but it’s too early for this,” she said. Katara and Toph let out muttered, half-hearted apologies in unison.

“What happened in class?” Aang asked Sokka, who’d not been paying any attention. Neither had Aang, which they both learned their lesson after the Madam Fussy Britches incident. 

“Oh, you know,” Sokka huffed, refusing to meet anyone’s eye as he glared out at nothing. “Just the usual.”

“He tanked on the last haiku,” Suki helpfully answered.

“I nailed the other two!” Sokka’s face turned redder than the Fire Nation flag. Which made Aang only think about Zuko more.

“Sokka’s blubbering aside,” Katara said. “Suki, did Zuko stay at your place last night?"

Aang's heart plummeted when Suki shook her head. "No. Sokka caught me up to speed before class. Sokka." She nudged his arm with her elbow.

“Huh?” Embarrassment dying down, Sokka’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Oh, right. Dad asked me the same thing after Katara left. Iroh called him.”

“Zuko’s mom called me last night when Zuko didn’t come home,” Aang cut in. “And I asked Mai. She hasn’t seen him either.”

“And he didn't stay at my place,” Toph added. “I was the one who suggested he might have stayed at Suki's if he didn't stay at Aang's or you guys's."

“Maybe he went to Ty Lee’s?” Katara offered, but Sokka shook his head.

“After the way he and Mai broke up yesterday, not likely,” he said. “Maybe he stayed at someone else’s place last night.”

Toph snorted, arms folding over her chest. “Yeah, I don’t think so,” she said bluntly. “Outside of us, Knives and even the freaky ballerina chick, I don’t think Fireflakes really has any other friends to turn to, let alone stay over at their place.”

“Maybe he went to a hotel?” Suki said, but even she didn’t seem convinced of it herself.

Katara and Aang shared worried looks, the creases in their brows mirroring one another’s.

“I have third period with him,” Katara eventually said as they ruminated in silence. “He never misses that class even when he’s in one of his moods.”

They all nodded, but it didn’t answer any of the questions they had. Aang felt like the drop in his stomach split wider.

He stunk of vomit and sweat, among other things that intersected between. The pain spasmed periodically across his insides as Zuko breathed in, breathed out and repeated.

After he’d puked over both of them, Zhao had backhanded him across the face so hard he saw dots dancing in his vision. He’d almost thrown up again when Zhao roughly stuck two fingers inside him then shoved them in his mouth. He could still taste the metallic tang of his own blood.

Fuck, blood from his ass.

Toph would have found it hilarious.

Toph. He closed his eyes, inhaling once. Aang, the rest of his friends. Mother, Uncle. Mai.

Knowing Uncle, he was probably keeping a cool head for now. Waiting for him in that damned tea shop. Mai was more likely better off without him right now. Zuko wondered if she was reading one of those scary gothic books she liked. He imagined her, her lithe hands moving as if to illustrate, describing in vivid, stark detail of the most grizzly parts of the novel.

Imagining the glimmer in her eyes helped distract him from the ache in the back of his head and nausea writhing at his stomach. He shifted on the mattress as best he could, despite his mobility limited to being chained. After the shirshu venom wore off, Zhao’d already slapped new, thicker manacles to his wrists and left to sulk after grousing about being covered in vomit.

Zuko’s face contorted, the skin around his right eye protesting; he suspected it was starting to swell after Zhao’s hits. Parts of his breakfast and stomach bile clung to his chin and chest. Moving his mouth around, he could still taste some of it, throat burning every time he swallowed. His earlier screams rang in his head, eyes stinging as he blinked. There was nothing he could have done to change it, but he refused to cry now, even in the safety of solitary. He couldn't let Zhao take that from him.

Speaking of the Koh-cursed demon, the door opened and Zhao stepped inside. Light splashed all across the room when he flickered the switch—Zuko hadn’t even realized there was one—on. Zuko lifted his head and raised an eyebrow. He tracked him as he stepped around the side of the bed, eyes falling on the pail of water in one hand, and a small paper bag in the other. He looked up, eyes glaring in suspicion.

“I hope you’ve slept well,” Zhao smirked.

Zuko bared his teeth. “Fuck you.”

His response elicited a chuckle. “Three years have really done nothing to clean that uncouth mouth of yours, Zuko,” Zhao said, grinning with teeth. “But I am genuinely asking. I suppose I must apologize for losing my temper after your… sickness. I should have realized you were likely still a virgin.”

“You don’t know a thing about me.”

“Oh, but I do, little prince.” Zhao set the bucket down and pulled out a can of shaving cream. “I know that there is nothing more in the world that means more to you than returning home to your father. I know that you’ve been living with your uncle in that little teashop of his. And I know that no one will be looking for you anytime soon.”

“Shut up!” Even if it hurt his throat, Zuko couldn’t stop himself from shouting. It was like a compunction. “You don’t know anything.”

Zhao’s eyes rolled and he scoffed. There was mirth in it. “Please. I think I know well enough. You’re just a banished child. No home, no friends. Your own father doesn’t even want you.”

Tears stung his eyes. “That’s not true.”

“Believe what you want, but if your father really wanted you home, he would have let you return by now.” He pulled a razor and set the bag aside. “But in his eyes, you will always be a failure, and an embarrassment to the Fire Nation.”

The bed dipped with the addition of his weight. Zuko didn’t even have a retort scathing the tip of his tongue when he heard the throaty hiss of the cream. He flinched when he felt the thick white froth lather his skin, entire face scrunching as he stared down at his crotch.

“What are you…?” Zhao rubbed it into his pubic bone, and with a single swipe of the razor, Zuko’s muscles froze. He opened and closed his mouth wordlessly as he watched Zhao dip the razor into the bucket, filled to the brim with water, and repeated the process.

By the third shave, Zuko found his voice. “Are you shaving me?!”

“Hold still, otherwise I might nick you,” Zhao said, sighing when Zuko squirmed. “Fine. Have it your way.”

Zuko was spitting curses so vile that even Mai and Toph would find horrifying as Zhao brushed the razorblade through the hair at his groin. He didn’t care if it damaged his throat, each swear feeling like he’d swallowed sandpaper. He couldn’t even bring himself to care when he felt the blade cutting him every time he moved.

His yelling only paused when Zhao moved to his armpits. When it resumed, it impossibly got louder.

“—bleeding hogmonkey, cock-sucking, piece of shit!” Zuko’s impassioned screaming concluded. He panted, sweat gathering under his now-bare pits as his chest heaved, almost as if he were having a panic attack. Zhao stared down at him with a dangerous glint in his eyes, darkening as each glance swept across Zuko’s now clean-shaven crotch and armpits. Even his legs had been shaved at some point, tiny beads of blood dotted across pale skin.

Zhao leaned down and ran his hands up the sides of his body, stroking the curve of his calves and pressed his lips against his sternum. Zuko made a face as Zhao kissed the length of his chest, stomach, and further down. He gaped at Zhao like a gutted fish, incredulous. Because Zhao couldn’t possibly…

He was proven wrong when he felt the warmth of Zhao’s mouth swallow him whole. Zuko cried out, shaking his head when he felt a tongue drag itself along the tip. His vision swam, becoming a blur as he tried to fight the pressure burning down his shaft. “Stop,” he stammered, gnashing his teeth. “G-Get it off. Fuck! Get off!”

Zhao hummed, and it sent weird vibrations that made Zuko clamp down a groan, biting the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted blood again. Then, as if a lightbulb suddenly lit up in his head, a mischievous grin spread across his face. He hadn’t gone to a restroom since third period yesterday, and he’d ached all night when he was forced to hold it in.

He took great pleasure watching as the concentrated furrow in Zhao’s brows faded as his eyes slowly peeled open. They went comically wide as he frantically leapt off of Zuko, gasping as he spat urine on the floor while Zuko still sprayed the hot liquid on the mattress, soaking into the sheets. Zuko watched with no small amount of satisfaction as Zhao’s shoulders racked with coughs, one hand splayed across his stomach while the other wiped his mouth.

Zhao’s eyes were murderous as he looked down at Zuko, steam rising from his shoulders. Zuko didn’t even get the chance to gloat when water splashed down onto him. Ice prickled his skin, the cold air in the room clinging to his skin. He shivered, curling and uncurling his toes and fingers as Zhao's heavy footsteps stomped out of the room. Zuko didn't relax until minutes flew past him, closing his eyes as he dropped his head against the pillow.

When Zhao returned, a cast iron plate he recognized from a barbell, he slammed it down onto his ribs. Golden eyes flew open. The ringing was all Zuko could hear as he felt his jaw unhinge, an endless sound soaring past a sore throat and deaf ears. 

He didn’t even feel when Zhao grabbed his hand and bent one finger back.

Mai closed her notebook and tucked it under her arm as her first period teacher dismissed them for the day. It was her least favorite class, but it served as a small blessing being in the morning. And the view from behind…

Was not there.

“Hi, Mai!” Mai didn’t flinch when Ty Lee suddenly popped at her side, her braided ponytail swinging behind her. “How’d class go?”

“Dreary as ever,” Mai deadpanned, the straight line of her lips unchanging. “Kwan is almost as bad as Headmistress Pearl.”

Ty Lee made an exaggerated shudder, brushing light brown hair from her eyes. “I have her for third. She’s awful. Her aura’s kind of like an unripe moonpeach. There’s only mold and those disgusting little bugs you find on corpses.”

"Maggots?" Mai guessed, but the corner of her lip twitched.

Ty Lee's eyes lit up, arms coming around Mai's thin shoulders and pulling her hip to hip with the pink-aura'ed girl. "Maggots! They're maggots!"

They exited the hallway and cut through a clump of zit-faced students to go to the courtyard. It was a space Ty Lee normally preferred because she liked the sun's warmth in her hair and on her back. Mai privately liked it because it was smaller and less students to bother them. Sometimes Zuko and his friends ate with them, although last time the waterbender and Toph Beifong got into a heated argument that'd resulted in mud all over the fruit tart Zuko had brought for her.

"So," Ty Lee sat in a lotus position under a tree, "did you talk to Zuko today?"

She felt her mouth dry up. Her text message had still gone unanswered. Unread. At first, Mai’d assumed Zuko was still sulking about the breakup and the argument that had preceded it. Skipping class wasn’t wildly out of character for him anymore; sometimes she even joined him and they’d smoke cigarettes together on the roof of the building.

It took Mai a moment to steel her expression into stone. “I haven’t seen him since yesterday.” Then, hesitantly, “His uncle actually called me last night.”

Ty Lee cocked her head. “What for?”

She shrugged. “I guess he must have not come home,” she said. More than likely, Ursa had somehow never picked him up after school. She knew Zuko had been looking forward to that dinner; he’d talked about wanting to show his mother his ribbons from last spring’s swim competition and what he'd learned from wielding his dual dao swords. He’d even had them waxed. 

Ty Lee hummed, but she made no comment as they got up and left the courtyard. The hallway looked a lot less busy now that the surge of hallway traffic subsided. Sometimes it’d be her, Ty Lee and Zuko walking through the halls together. Her fingers stitched with his, the warmth bleeding into her cold, alabaster skin. The skeleton beneath it felt soothed. Their shoulders would brush against another. Neither of them talked, still heavy-eyed after Kwan’s class. Ty Lee did enough of the talking for both of them. Sometimes Aang if he caught up to them.

“He didn’t stay over at Aang’s, either.”

She hadn’t meant to say that. Before Ty Lee had brought it up, she wasn’t going to say anything at all about Zuko. About him not coming home the other night, Ursa’s or Iroh’s. Mai didn’t know why she said that.

It was too late, though. The words couldn’t be unsaid. Ty Lee’s ash-brown eyes whipped to her, the lines between her brows creasing. “That’s not good,” she said after a minute beat between them. “Do you wanna talk about it? I know you said you didn’t want to yesterday about the breakup! But your aura’s kind of bleak.”

Auras were a load of bull-horseshit.

Before Mai could respond, she spotted Aang and the rest of his friends—Zuko wasn’t there, even though part of her had almost lit up with something like hope.

Besides the bald-headed monk, the only one she’d ever really spoken to was Toph Beifong, and that hadn’t been by choice. The Beifongs were old money, just like Ukano's side of the family, and were held high in esteem and influence among the wealthy circles of the Earth Kingdom. Her father, Lao Beifong, owned several properties across Gaoling. They were called the House of the Flying Boar, and the first time meeting them, Father had drilled it into her head to be polite and respectful. She needed to think about his political career and his reelection campaign. When she’d met Toph Beifong in the flesh, she had been reserved. Quiet. Demure. Nothing at all like the loud-mouthed, brash girl she'd seen several weeks ago flinging mulch at a peasant waterbender.

Mai sort of liked her. Envied her, especially.

“Hi.”

Their group silenced, all eyes turning to Mai and Ty Lee. Mai felt the back of her neck prickle, but she met their dumbfounded stares with a smooth, unsmiling face. Toph was the only one to appear unaffected.

“Sup, Gloomy,” the earthbender said.

“Toph,” the Water Tribe girl chided under her breath, eyes sliding from Mai’s to glare at Toph.

“Hi, Mai!” Aang greeted with forced cheer. His eyes flit with hope, then dimmed when he noticed the distinct lack of Zuko at her flank. “How’s it going?”

“Fine,” Mai said. “No sign of Zuko?”

“Don’t you lovebirds share a morning class?” Toph asked bluntly.

Mai glanced at her. “Yeah,” she said dryly, “but I guess not today. He didn’t show up.”

“Well it’s only the start of the school day,” Aang said, as if he was trying to salvage a sinking feeling that not even the ocean spirits could stop. “I’m sure he can’t skip a whole day off. Swimming practice is today.”

His smile was edged with a tension Mai was intimately familiar with; she carved hers from stone and trusted it with the blood clogging her skin to hold under the watchful eyes of Ukano and Michi.

“Of course,” she said, because she wasn’t in the mood to argue or probe for any more questions. Not with the Water Tribe twins and Earth Kingdom girls as an audience. “He never misses practice.”

“Exactly!” Aang smiled toothily. It showed too much gum.

She and Ty Lee bid their farewell, slinking off to second period and parting ways. Mai told herself to stop thinking about Zuko. He was probably fine.

In her pocket, her phone burned.

It felt weird coming into the warm, humid pool without Zuko. She saw that his other teammates had arrived and Coach Bato stood at the pool’s edge. Aang’s arrowed-head bobbed in the water, splashing in time with his legs while most of the other boys sat in the benches or floated in the water, swim caps and too-tight undies on.

“Keep up the work, Aang!” Coach Bato called, glancing at Mai. He greeted her with a warm smile. “Oh. Hi, Mai.”

From where she stood, almost hidden behind the shelf nearly brimmed with equipment, Mai eyed at the pool. “Hello, Coach Bato.”

“Bato is fine,” he chuckled. “You can take a seat on the bench if you’d like. Practice doesn’t start for another five minutes.”

“Actually, I—” Mai stopped, glancing at the pool. She didn’t find a boy with a burn scar anywhere, in the water or sitting at the ledge. “Has Zuko arrived? I was supposed to bring him his bag.”

“I’m afraid I haven’t seen Zuko yet, but you’re welcome to wait for him when he does.”

Mai shook her head, the stink of chlorine climbing into her nostrils. She felt like she was inhaling the chemical. “That’s okay. I’ll come back another time.”

If he had wanted to say anything to her, Mai wouldn’t have heard it with the speed she left the pool. Cool, air-conditioned hallways welcomed her as she brushed past other students. Ty Lee had already left an hour ago, and her family’s driver was most likely waiting for her outside the building.

When she came outside, the sky was still drizzling. Puddles had formed on the curb, in the small indentations of the road. The car waited for her, the silhouette of the driver at the front seat. Mai stood at the edge of the front step, drumming her fingers on her bag’s strap.

She checked her messages again. Two messages from her Uncle about a collection of antique knives he’d bought. One from her Aunt Mura, with a photo link of a bouquet of flowers her shop was selling.

None from Zuko.

She’d been debating all day whether to send him another message, or dial his number. Something. But then again, Zuko might have not been as receptive to her. She knew she was still upset about their argument, too. Jaded about how he’d snapped at her and accused her of being unsupportive.

Mai tucked her phone away and walked to the car, then stopped. Her hand hovered over the door handle, craning her neck to watch the driver. He was on his phone, tapping away at it like he was either playing a mobile game or texting a friend. She eyeballed the door, then pulled the handle.

Without climbing inside, she slammed it shut.

There was a divider, so he wouldn’t realize she wasn’t in the car by the time he drove to her family’s estate. Mai watched as the car purred to life and peeled off the curb, tires skidding on the wet pavement. She stood alone on the sidewalk, black hair becoming damp from the drizzle, and watched the car disappear until she could only see a small black dot.

She turned around and started walking the opposite way.

The end of the school day came. Zuko did not.

Iroh had been in the middle of brewing a fresh batch of jasmine tea when the phone rang. Rinsing his hands clean, he answered it. “Hello?”

“General Iroh, hi,” on the other line, Headmistress Shihan’s voice briefly crackled. She cleared her throat. “I apologize for interrupting your day, I’m aware you must be a busy man, but I’m afraid I need to inform you that your nephew has not arrived to any of his classes today.”

Iroh’s frown deepened. The pit of his stomach felt like it was unspooling. “Zuko wasn’t at school today? Not even his swim practice?”

“Coach Bato has already informed me of Zuko’s absence from practice,” Headmistress Shishu said. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw steam rising from the pot of water he’d put to boil five minutes ago. “Now, I understand Zuko has played truant before when he first enrolled, and the Headmaster before me had been lenient. And I do not question your honor, but a phone call or an email—”

“Zuko hasn’t been seen since yesterday.”

There was a fat pause between them. Iroh hadn’t even realized the words left his lips until he said it.

On the other line, Headmistress Shihan is deathly quiet. She recovered about as well as he expected. “I—what, um,” she stammered, “what do you mean? He attended all of his classes yesterday.”

“He was scheduled to spend the night over at his mother’s, but unfortunately she’d been preoccupied and had forgotten to pick him up once classes ended,” Iroh explained, mouth dry. “We contacted everyone we thought Zuko would turn to. His friends had promised me they would call if they saw him. And I have tried his number all day. He hasn’t responded to any of them.”

“I see.” There was the sound of papers shuffling. “General, if I may?”

Iroh nodded then realized she would not be able to see it. “Of course.”

“I think this may be the time to contact law enforcement,” she said, the words almost like white noise to Iroh.

He gave the steaming pot a strained smile, water trickling over the edge. “I’m afraid you may be right.”

“Guys,” Toph said, stopping suddenly. Her brows furrowed. “What’s wrong? Your heartbeats are dropping faster than Snoozles at kuai ball.”

Aang stood frozen solid, mouth opening soundlessly. Katara’s hand wrapped around his bicep. He almost felt comforted by the weight of it.

“Iroh’s talking to two police officers,” Sokka said grimly. “He’s taking them into the shop.”

Sitting on the curb was a plain-looking car, and the officers who’d been in front of it looked just as average, although the female officer was kind of stunning. Long brown hair framed her slender face and she wore a darker brown leather jacket and jeans. The other officer with her had grey short hair and facial hair on the sides of his face, stopping where they framed his broad chin.

They watched as Iroh and the two disappeared into the shop.

“Zuko wasn’t at swim practice?” Katara asked, her voice faint.

Aang mutely shook his head; he’d been distracted all of practice, looking over his shoulder every five minutes to see if Zuko would appear from the two doors, face rested in a scowl and feet stomping, grumbling something about Ruon-Jian or Chan or even one of their teachers. Even Bato had looked concerned after Aang told him about Zuko not coming home last night. Practice didn’t last much longer after that.

Sokka swallowed hard. “It must be pretty serious if Iroh’s talking to the cops,” he said, whisper-quiet.

Aang was the first to move.

Katara, Sokka and Toph followed after him, alarmed and hopelessly confused. Aang didn’t really know what he was doing, even as he entered the shop through the back doors and ducked behind a wall to prevent Iroh from seeing them.

Had things been different, he would have laughed at the silliness of them all huddled together behind a wall like a cartoon gimmick. 

“Do you know what time he was last seen?” the female officer asked.

He wasn’t laughing now.

“I am not sure… His friend might have been the one to see him before…”

Behind Aang, Katara and Sokka exchanged worried looks. Even Toph seemed troubled. Rarely did Iroh ever sound so… that. Like he was on the verge of collapsing. Maybe he’d sounded like that only once, when Lu Ten…

Aang whipped out his phone faster than his air scooter.

If you’re hiding somewhere, you have to come home NOW. Iroh’s talking to the police.

Silently as they could, the four of them slunk out of the backroom and returned outside. Aang’s hands clung to his phone, dialing Zuko.

It went to voicemail.

Hello… Zuko, here. But, uh, you probably already know that, since I gave you my number… Well, anyway. I can’t come to the phone right now, which you can tell because you’re… listening… to this… Okay, this is stupid. Bye now.

Aang shook his head and hung up, then tried again.

Hello… Zuko, here. But, uh, you probably already know that, since I gave you my number—

He tried again.

Hello… Zuko, here. But, uh, you probably already know that—

And again.

Hello… Zuko, here. But, uh, you probably—

And again.

Hello… Zuko, here.

They took a booth in the shop after an hour. Sat between Katara and Sokka, Aang stared at his screen until his thumbs moved again.

Please.

It was nearing past seven when she found something.

Or, rather, someone.

“Are you lost, miss?” an old woman asked Mai. She couldn’t be older than eighty, half of her hair tied into an exaggerated, oversized bun and a fluffy cat under her arm, fur matching her translcuent-grey hair.

Mai stared at her, eyes flicking to the cart she was wheeling. The sky had darkened to dark hues of navy blue and grey, but there were plenty of streetlights to guide her into the direction of Ursa’s neighborhood. She hadn’t even realized she’d walked so far.

“No,” Mai finally said, hands lax at her sides. “I’m just on my way from school.”

The woman hummed, her pale green eyes crinkling at the corners. She set the cat down on the cart, which looked like it was filled with vials of colorful liquids, potted plants and vines curling around the handles. Even her hairband looked like it was made of leaves with a twig stabbed through her thick bun.

She must have been an herbalist, based on the way she tenderly poured water into a tall cactus. “Best you get going now, then,” the woman said. “Streets at this time can be treacherous, you know. Especially for young girls like yourself.”

“Right,” Mai said. “Thank you.”

“Of course! Get on home, now. I’ll tell ya, people in these streets can be so clueless, like that one boy I saw yesterday! Walking broadly into that alley.”

Ice shot through Mai, eyes widening a fraction. The herbalist continued talking to herself, mumbling things like “Oh, sandalwood. Oh, er, uh, that won't do, banana leaf? Ah, nope, uh, ginger root, oh where is that pesky little plant?”

It sounded like nonsense to Mai’s ears, and part of her was tempted to leave and continue somewhere. Maybe go back home. If either Michi or Ukano discovered she never made it home, they’d lecture her until they were blue in the face. She could already hear her mother’s voice asking ‘how can you be so selfish?’

I learned from the best.

Her fingers flexed, eyes raking in the street she was on. Little shops whose buildings resembled Earth Kingdom shops she saw back in her short stay at Omashu. None that would have piqued her interest. Or Zuko’s.

The herbalist didn’t stop talking, even as she started lugging the cart away. Mai hesitated, then spoke. “This boy,” she said, taking a step closer. “Did he have a burn scar, by any chance?”

“Hm?” The herbalist frowned, eyes narrowing thoughtfully as she considered. “I believe so. It was sort of hard to miss.” She gestured to the left side of her face.

Under her sleeves, Mai’s nails bit into her palms. “You said he walked into an alley?”

“Yes, he went in that direction,” she pointed down where the road bisected the shops. “I saw him turn to the right. Typically that way leads to a part of town where those irksome bums like to spend their business in. I’ve seen my fair share of poor girls getting attacked by random men.”

Of course, Mai thought. A flash of irritation swept through her. Of course. It was just like Zuko to wander into a suspicious-looking street if he was in one of his moods. Knowing him, he would have probably waited hours for Ursa, only to be let down again and sulk all the way to her house. Knowing Zuko, he would have forgiven her before dinner.

“Thanks,” she said, bowing her head. She turned on her heel and headed that direction, ignoring the woman’s calls as she crept closer and closer. Steeling herself, she took the right, just right around the corner of a pawn shop.

The weight of her knives was a comfort to her, as she peered into the alley. Stale alcohol, cigarettes and the stench of urine assaulted her nose as she strolled with measured, cautious steps. She made a note to herself that when she went home, she was taking a long shower.

Aside from the smell and the beat up, almost charred cobblestone of the buildings, it looked like an ordinary street. There were no homeless people lurking, or large shadows in thick coats. It was almost like a wasteland, abandoned.

Her phone vibrated.

Mai took it out, eyes bobbing around the alley, just in case. It was from Aang. Her thumb froze over the screen.

Zuko’s been declared a missing person. We saw Iroh talking to the police.

Glass crunched under her feet.

Startled, Mai looked down. She saw the remains of a wine bottle on the ground, its shattered pieces glittering like rain. There was the neck of the bottle hiding in the curb, its jagged end like the tips of a flame. A crumpled piece of a dirty napkin almost hid it from view and—

Crouching down, Mai’s trembling fingers reached in and plucked a shoe off the ground. Even under dim lighting, she recognized those sneakers.

Pristine white, luxury and the Fire National insignia stamped on the ankle. She’d been with him when he first bought them, months ago that felt like another lifetime. He wore them religiously to school every day.

And now this one was here, the other one missing.

She dialed Aang’s number before she even blinked. He answered on the first ring, but before he could get a word in, Mai asked, “Where are you right now?”

Aang sounded tired, tinged with confusion as he replied, “Um, at the Jasmine Dragon. Are you okay?”

“I’m sending you my location,” Mai said in lieu of answering. “Bring your bison, now. I… I found something.”

Her eyes fell back to Zuko’s shoe, fingers simmering.

Zhao left the boy moaning in his chains. He had grabbed a sex toy he kept hidden inside a chest, turned it on and ruthlessly shoved it inside Zuko before he left for the remainder of the evening. Just the thought of the tip jolting towards his prostate relentlessly throughout the night brought a smile across his lips.

After checking Republic City’s local news sites on his own phone, he let himself relax an inch as he drove up away from his house. Knowing General Iroh, he was most likely contacting the authorities to report Zuko’s disappearance, unless he expected Zuko to disappear. But Zhao couldn’t take that chance.

An hour of driving led him to the city’s central peninsula, at the neck of the water that rested in Republic City National Lake. The deciduous trees framing the edge kept him concealed to the shadows, the grass finely cut. There was an arched stone bridge he crossed, watchful eyes tracking stray pedestrians. Thankfully there was only one cluster of nomads gathering their instruments and bags to leave. 

“Secret tunnel, secret tunnel,” they all chorused, voices fading away as Zhao ducked further into the landscape of trees that towered over him. Making sure he was alone, he pulled out the phone.

Figuring out Zuko’s passcode was the main obstacle as he turned the phone on. He blinked hard at the flood of light coming through, eyes settling on the lockscreen; his eyes immediately flattened—it was a poster of Love Amongst the Dragons. Zhao vaguely recalled that the boy had a love for theater, something Ozai had lamented.

He swiped the screen, biting the corner of his lip. Taking a wild guess, his thumb mimed Z and the screen instantly opened. “Idiot boy,” he tsked. “It’s a wonder your father didn’t discard you sooner.”

A deluge of unread and unopened text messages assaulted him. Several from names like Aang, General Iroh, and—Lady Ursa? Ozai’s estranged wife? And several names Zhao didn’t recognize, although he wondered if the Toph in his phone was the same Toph Beifong. 

He left the messages alone and went into the photo gallery, greedily snatching whatever he could. While he thoroughly enjoyed taking the boy apart, he wanted to watch those pretty, soft golden eyes break and hear him scream for mercy. Make that spoiled, pompous brat malleable to him.

His photo gallery was an interesting sight. There were dozens of photos of him and an Air Nomad boy with a blue arrow tattooed to his head and a gold hoop on one ear. Zuko’s hair was much shorter in these photographs, his unsmiling face staring into the camera while the Air Nomad had an arm wrapped around his waist. 

So he really did have similar interests as Zhao, considering in one photo the Air Nomad was practically hugging Zuko in another picture, their cheeks smashed together. Zuko even looked like he was on the verge of a smile, his hand rested on the other boy’s.

Except.

He scrolled to another photo; it was Ukano’s oldest child. Zhao had seen her a handful of times back when they still lived in the capital. She was a sullen, morose young woman who never spoke unless spoken to, an obedient young child.

And judging by a series of photos—a close up photo of Zuko and Mai lying on pillow and hugging each other, both of them sitting in matching reclining chairs with cucumbers dotted across their faces, and Mai‘s legs slung over his lap while the two shared a kiss on a park bench—it appeared that they were a couple.

But even more than that, there was a softness in the boy’s face when he looked at the girl. It even made the scarred eye less grisly as it could be, as if he was staring into a starry, cloudless sky. Nobody could deny the tenderness the way he leaned his entire body into hers, how comfortable he fit into the sharp space of her svelte frame.

A slow, victorious smirk crawled across Zhao’s face.

“I’ve got you, now,” he said.

Chapter Text

Iroh had never been known to be a restless man, but as his hands wrung together and adjusted the trinkets across his house, he'd realized he hadn't stopped to sit down all day.

“I hope you both like jasmine tea,” he said, setting down two cups on his kitchen island. Detectives Ming and Jee had both recommended to hold their line of questioning at his house, under the reason that Iroh might be more focused compared to the Jasmine Dragon as the dinner rush approached.

That, and to escape the five eavesdropping shadows wandering in the back room.

Jee nodded in thanks. “It’s alright,” he said, taking a sip.

Iroh’s next words tumbled out without thought, “It’s Zuko’s favorite.”

Ming’s eyes softened while Jee’s lowered. “Is it just the two of you?”

“For three years,” Iroh smiled shakily. “My brother, he… It is complicated. My nephew was disinherited and came to live with me after an incident with his father.”

“Your brother,” Jee said, as if mulling the word. “That would be Ozai, correct?” At Iroh’s nod, he continued, “Did your brother have any enemies who may have wanted to extort something from him? Like money?”

Iroh frowned, his finger circling the rim of his cup. “My brother is not exactly a well-liked man,” he said tentatively. “And ‘respected’ would depend on who you ask. But using Zuko to force something out of Ozai would not be the way to go.”

Ming and Jee shared subtle—at least what they thought was subtle—side glances at each other. Both were born and raised in the Fire Nation, and even served in its military at some point in their lives. Iroh was most familiar with Jee, who'd served under his command when Iroh had once gone by General. Many news sites in the Fire Nation had blown up with headlines after Ozai disowned his firstborn son. And it wasn’t a secret that he favored his second born daughter, Azula—whose own prodigious talent overshadowed her older brother. There were even rumors that her flames were blue.

“Is it possible he might have gone back to his father’s?” Ming asked, sliding her pen from her ear to write down notes.

Iroh expected the question, but it didn't make it hurt any less. “No, even if Zuko wants nothing more than to return to my brother’s, he would never disobey a direct order from Ozai,” Iroh sighed. He was reluctant to share the one time Zuko had attempted to return to the Fire Nation in nothing more than a hospital gown and a bag full of clothes. Despite Iroh's gentle coaxing, it'd taken an email from Ozai to finally convince the boy he was better off in the city.

Zuko didn't even have a passport on him, anyways.

“When was the last time you were in contact with Ozai?” Jee asked, leaning forward.

Iroh’s brow knit, steam rising from his cup. “Three years ago, when he called to inform me of Zuko’s accident,” he said. Neither detective missed the bitterness bleeding into the last word.

Ming hummed. “Did Zuko have any issues moving here?”

“Yes, during the first year he lived with me, but… I thought he was improving, especially after two years ago when he made friends,” Iroh said, smiling sadly as he thought of a moody, grumpy teenage boy scowling as he was swallowed into a group hug. “Zuko has never had friends before. Not even when he was a child. He’s grown so much and became more involved with after-school activities even. He’s one of the best swimmers in his school’s division and talented at the dual dao. I couldn’t be more proud.”

He sniffed, blinking rapidly. “You believe he might have run away?”

Ming and Jee glanced at each other. “Anything is possible,” Ming said. “We’re just cross-checking any possibility.”

“If we may, we can have some of our guys trace his phone,” Jee suggested.

“Yes, of course,” Iroh gulped down the rest of his tea. “What else will you need for your investigation?”

“Not much at this instant,” Jee said, watching Ming from his peripheral clicking the pen. "People your nephew may come into contact with recently, or on the day he went missing. Clothing he might have been wearing when he was last seen.”

“Do you have a recent photo of him?” Ming cut in.

Iroh nodded. “Ah, yes!” Perking up, he crossed the kitchen, plucking off a dragon-shaped magnet off his fridge and returning with a photo. “This was taken two months ago by Zuko’s girlfriend, Mai. Bit of a strange girl, but I will admit she is quite the photographer.”

It was a candid photo, based on the way Zuko’s pose was far too casual to be from a photoshoot. A colorful backdrop with balloons and fireworks almost hiding the moon, Zuko at the forefront with a mass of bubbles glowing iridescent. One hand was raised, pointer finger outstretched—like he was going to pop one. Iroh remembered that day fondly. Zuko hadn't stopped smiling when he came home after a date with Mai. He didn't even protest when Iroh hung the photo on the fridge to join the collection of his sword competitions and Lu Ten's early days in university.

Ming held it between her fingers, studying it critically.

“You mentioned before that he was supposed to have come home to his mother’s,” Ming asked. Iroh's knuckles almost turned porcelain. She handed the photo to Jee. “What happened there?”

“That I am not able to tell you much, unfortunately,” Iroh let out a breath through his nose, eyes slipping closed. “It was only a few months ago that he found his mother and they began reconnecting. Some days Zuko would stay with her, then with me. We never made a proper arrangement, but I never saw the need to.”

‘Until now,’ was unspoken, but it lingered as Iroh took their now-empty cups.

“Do you have her home address?” Jee asked.

Iroh took out his phone, scrolling through it. “Of course. The most I know is that he had intended to sleep at her house until next week, but she’d told me she had forgotten to pick him up after school hours ended. Here.”

He flipped the phone over, showing the address in view. Ming immediately wrote it down while Jee nodded once. “We appreciate it, General Iroh.”

“Just Iroh is fine, Detective Ming,” Iroh chuckled, but he knew it sounded forced. There was a bitterness in his throat that made him uncomfortable, sticking there like honey. “Please, just find my nephew.”

They both nodded and bowed deeply at the waist, making a sign of the flame. Ming said, “We promise, Iroh.”

His hands didn't stop shaking even after he closed the door behind them. Somewhere in the back, the kettle was whining. The silence in the house rang.

On the car ride to Ursa’s, Jee broke the silence.

“Why’d you promise him?” he sighed, pinching his brows. “You know we can’t say those kinds of things to a victim’s family.”

Ming’s hands tightened on the wheel. “It sort of slipped out,” she said, turning left. “But even if we don’t find this kid alive, at least we can bring the General a body to cremate.”

“Unless he's run away.”

“Maybe,” she admitted. “But tomorrow will be the third day he’s been missing. If we’re looking at a possible kidnapping, we might get a ransom note soon, especially since he’s Oza’s son.”

Jee exhaled through his nostrils. “His disgraced son,” he corrected stiffly. “Everyone in the Fire Nation knows that. Everyone in the Earth Kingdom knows that. Even the Southern Water Tribers probably know. It’s known worldwide Ozai wants nothing to do with his son.”

“He’s the Dragon of the West’s nephew,” Ming countered, shooting him a glare so quick it could have given him whiplash. She made a right, almost less than one mile from Ursa’s house. “There are plenty of Earth Kingdom veterans who might want to hurt his nephew to get back at him.”

“Perhaps, but making promises…” He trailed off, running his hand through his hair. “Trust me, Ming. Holding promises in this line of work rarely works out in the end.”

She made a noncommittal hum, pulling into the curb. Houses in the neighborhood looked more modest compared to Iroh’s, even if the man was no longer first in line for a billion-dollar company. She and Jee exited the car and approached the front steps.

“You buy that the kid wouldn’t run away to his father’s?” Jee said quietly as Ming raised her hand to ring the doorbell.

“We’re about to find out.” As soon as she finished the response, the door swung open.

The woman in front of them was a far cry from the old theater posters back in her days as an actress. Her brown hair was down and frizzing at the edges, her makeup doing very little to conceal the bags underneath her eyes, almost like they'd been bruised. “Can I help you?” she said.

Ming flashed her badge. “Hi, Ursa, correct? I’m detective Ming and this is my partner, Jee,” she introduced, cocking her head at Jee. “We’re here to ask you a couple questions about your son, Zuko, I believe. You were the first to report him missing?”

Light amber eyes widened, nodding rapidly as she stepped aside to let them through. “Yes, of course,” she said, brushing her hands on her apron. “Forgive me. It’s been a difficult couple of days. You can put your shoes there.”

Ming nodded as they both slid their shoes off. They followed Ursa, both of them eyeing the living room. Iroh's house had been made up in the traditional Fire Nation style, with luxurious embellishments that'd made Ming wonder whether the man was eccentric or had a shopping addiction. Ursa's decor was a far cry from it, simpler and in soft, mild colors. Toys were scattered on the armchair sofa, a family portrait mounted on the wall above the fireplace, with Ursa and a man—presumably her husband—sitting close together. A little girl sat between with a toothy smile.

Ming squinted at some of the other photos she saw across the walls. It was hard not to see the differences between the former General and his ex-sister-in-law. Zuko and Iroh’s deceased son Lu Ten appeared frequently in numerous photographs around his house, even on his fridge. She only saw one photo of Zuko, partially hidden on a bookshelf. He looked like he was no older than five-years-old.

“Can I get you anything?” Ursa’s question broke Ming out of her reverie. “I have some water—or I can make some tea if that’s what you’d prefer.”

“I’m alright,” Ming said, giving her a warm smile. “But thank you.”

“I know that this might not be easy,” Jee began, clasping his hands together as he straightened. “We’re trying to establish a timeline between the hours your son was last seen and when he might have gone missing. Can you tell us your side of the events yesterday?”

Slowly, Ursa sat in the armchair with her hands folded in her lap. Ming searched the minute changes in her expression; Ursa used to be a highly coveted theater actress in her youth, before she married Ozai and had his children. Theater wasn't something Ming liked, but she was familiar with Ursa's face and it looked like a far cry from her old posters. The furrow in her brows hadn’t budged since they arrived, the lines creased in her forehead seeming like they’d been sewn into her skin like a marionette doll.

“I made a mistake,” Ursa admitted, her face puckering as if in great pain. “I’m sure my former brother-in-law has already informed you. I was supposed to pick Zuko up from school yesterday, but I got distracted. My younger daughter, Kiyi, came down with the flu and I wanted to stay home with her. I didn’t mean to—”

She buried her head in her hands, letting out a single sob. “I’m sorry,” she managed to choke out. Her hands quickly wiped at her cheeks. “It—It hasn’t been easy these last couple of months. I feel like I’m in this horrible cycle of letting Zuko down.”

“General Iroh mentioned you and Zuko had just started reconnecting?” Ming prompted gently. Jee’s face remained unchanging.

Ursa sniffed and inclined her head as an answer. “A few weeks before summer began,” she said. “I was taking another route home from the grocery store when I saw the Jasmine Dragon. A friend of mine told me they served some of the best tea in the city, so I thought I’d take a look. Imagine my surprise when this waiter with a giant scar across his face looked at me and called ‘Mom.’”

She chuckled to herself, her eyes turning wistful and she looked like she was staring into a memory entrapped by the air between them. An image that neither Ming or Jee were privy to. “It was one of the happiest I’d been since I left my ex-husband. I was so relieved to hear that my son made a good life for himself in the city, even without me.”

Her eyes had quickly grown sad by the end of her sentence, a resignation behind her voice. Ming wondered again what the story was behind her abandonment. It'd been an abrupt headline for the news. Lu Ten's death followed by Azulon's and his less favored son inheriting the company. She remembered walking into the break room one day, before she transferred to the city, and found her old coworkers huddled around a magazine. Ozai, Zuko and Azula proudly displayed on the front cover, the family of the highest honor. The deliberate lack of their mother. 

Jee shifted in his seat. “When was it that you realized Zuko was missing?”

Ursa’s face fell. “Sometime before dinner,” she said, eyes shiny. “I was making Zuko’s favorite—Iroh told me he loved sea slug sashimi. I’d even mixed the chili paste into the soy sauce for him. By the time the sea slug was almost done, I had realized I never came to the school to pick him up…” Her eyes shut. “I looked all over the house. Ikem even went around the block to ask our neighbors if they’d seen him. I called that one friend of his—Aang, I believe.”

Jee scratched his beard, clearing his throat. “Miss, I don’t mean to offend you, but given the nature of your son’s disappearance, is it possible he may have run away?”

“I want to say no,” she said, refusing to meet either of their eyes. Shame carved itself into the contours of her face, making her seem delicate. “Reconnecting hasn’t exactly gone the way either of us had hoped. Please believe me when I say that I love my son. I would do anything for him. But sometimes when I look at him all I see is his father. Or the fact that I had even left both him and his sister in the first place.”

Well, that certainly held a lot of implications neither Ming or Jee could unravel neatly. Neither knew how to respond to that. The things both Ursa and Iroh weren’t saying were telling, to be truthful. Ming’s suspicions arose, but knowing the rumors she heard about Azulon’s second born, it was painting an ugly picture she didn’t want to frame.

"What can you tell us about Zuko's father?" Ming tentatively asked. "We're working on all possible leads. Would your ex-husband have any reason—"

"No." It came immediately, sharp and cold. Like her eyes had been made of fire, it was as if the wind had blown into the flames and extinguished its light. Ursa's eyes were now only ashes. "He'd never."

Out of the corner of her eye, Jee glanced at her. Ming threaded her fingers together. "If Zuko's run off, would there be another place he might go?"

Ursa's cheeks were sucked in. Ming wondered whether the woman was gnawing them from the inside as she watched her crinkle her brows and run her tongue across her lip. It wiped off the pale gloss she'd been wearing. "Do you really think my son would run away?"

Jee cleared his throat. "Like my partner said, we're just looking at all possibilities. Trust us, in this line of work, running off is the best-case scenario."

Ursa lowered her head. Her knee twitched. “Um, perhaps his girlfriend’s?” She winced slightly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears. “Mai. She’s Governor Ukano’s daughter. Or that young airbender boy Aang.”

Two of the several names Iroh listed on a notecard he’d given her before they left. It sounded like an Air Nomad name, and Ming thought there was something terribly ironic about that; a common belief across the Four Nations about Air Nomads bringing good fortune wherever their winds touched soil on.

“Anywhere else?” Ming pressed.

“Um, maybe that dojo he goes to?” Ursa bit her lip. “I know he enjoys the dual dao. Iroh probably knows more about that than I do.”

There was a new voice in the room that cut between them. Footsteps shuffled in and Ming watched as Ursa's spine immediately straightened. Her smile strained to look real. "Kiyi!" she said.

Ming turned her head to see a little girl with Ursa's husband. Her short hair was in a pair of messy pigtails and her nose flushed bright red. Right. Ursa had mentioned her youngest child had the flu. Kiyi wiped her nose with the back of her sleeve.

"Um, hi," Ursa's husband said, eyes briefly looking towards both Ming and Jee. They settled on Ursa. "Is this about...?"

Kiyi unlatched herself from her father's side. "Who're you?"

Ursa stood suddenly, her smile widening an inch. It looked horribly weary. "Kiyi, that's impolite," she chided, the smile softening into something more genuine as the initial panic in her eyes fading if only a little. She apologized to Ming and Jee for Kiyi's rudeness.

"Wait, you're police officers?" Kiyi said. Her eyes widened with wonder as she stepped further into the room, her small hands curling around the armrest of the seat Ming was on. "That's so cool! Are you here to, like, solve a big mystery or something?"

"They're here about Zuko, honey," Ursa said, her hand brushing Kiyi's bangs from her forehead.

Ming watched with curiosity as a pair of dark amber eyes blew open, hands flying to her side as if she'd been burned suddenly. "Z-Zuko?"

"Kiyi?" Ursa's brows knit with concern. "Do you know something about Zuko?"

Kiyi squeezed her eyes shut, falling to her knees as her fingers sank into her hair. "Okay, I admit it!" she yelled. "My friends have been paying me with extra candies so they can look at the peephole in my closet to watch Zuko take off his clothes!"

Everyone blinked.

Ursa was the one to break the silence. "...No," she said. "They're here to help us find your brother." Her eyes narrowed as Kiyi's face processed all of that. "But we're talking about that later."

If it wasn't such a bleak situation, Ming would have laughed.

Aang’s hands trembled as he held the shoe. The ashen look on his face rivaled Mai’s, stormy grey eyes meeting her gaze. She wondered if he felt his heartbeat against his skull like she did.

“Are you sure it’s his?” he croaked.

Mai averted her eyes. “It’s probably his.”

“Probably,” Aang stressed. “There are plenty of Fire Nationals who live in this city. This could be anyone’s.”

“That shoe costs more than your bison,” Mai said. “The old lady told me she saw a boy with a giant scar on his eye.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Look at the evidence,” she said coldly. “What’s the likelihood of another boy with a burn scar on his eye in this city? Wearing a thousand-dollar pair of shoes from a Fire Nation brand? Oblivious enough to be walking into an alley that I’m pretty sure people have probably died in. You’ve known Zuko for, what, two years now? You know this is something he would do.”

Part of her almost felt bad, watching the distress sink deeper into Aang’s eyes as he almost seemed to stagger back. He stopped himself, looking down at the shoe again. “Yeah,” he admitted in a quiet voice. “I’m sorry. I was just hoping that…” His forehead puckered, trailing off with a shake of his head. His arrow looked like it was glowing under the moonlight. “I don’t even know anymore.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over between them, Aang staring at the shoe and Mai at the ground. It felt like a black hole in her stomach had opened when she found the shoe, widening as each minute ticked by.

“He didn’t run away,” Mai said, and it sounded far away.

Aang gave a sad smile. “No,” he agreed. “Zuko’s always been determined. Even after being knocked down over a hundred times, he still got back up. If he was upset with his mom, he would have just gone back to Iroh’s.”

His laugh, bitter and glum. It nearly made Mai flinch. “He wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”

Mai didn’t meet his eye, instead she looked at the shoe. Thunder growled above them.

“Then you know,” she rolled her tongue against her cheek, “that something’s probably happened to him.”

Aang exhaled. “I know.”

And it was a horrible truth that Mai hadn’t wanted to entertain. Didn’t want to believe. But denial was never something she indulged herself in, even as a young child. She knew Zuko, hopelessly tenacious and stubborn. Even angry with her, he’d probably leave even an email behind for her to read and let her pick up the pieces of her heart—and did that sound cheesy.

She watched as Aang’s shoulders drooped and he looked at the ground, squinting at the remains of glass. It was her who said it. “We should probably tell the police.” Even with the moon shining brightly above, she couldn’t see his face that well. “I… Zuko’s told me you don’t really trust them, but—”

“You’re right,” he said, surprising her. “They’ll be able to do more with this than we can.”

Mai blinked at him, and he elaborated. “You’re not exactly wrong. I haven’t really trusted the police or government officials since by the time Gyatso and I became refugees. And I know all about the statistics of how many Southern Water Tribe girls and even ones from the North go missing and their cases are barely looked into. There’s not a doubt in my mind that if Zuko were anyone else, they’d deem him a runaway.”

She didn't have a good response to that. In hindsight he wasn't wrong. If it'd been her who went missing, despite her parent's indifference towards her, they would have spent their millions finding her. Broadcasting photos of her for the whole world to see. Headlines after headlines urging for her safe return. All to save the illusion of a family unit they never were.

If she wasn't the governor's daughter, she would have never made the front page of the local news.

"Come on," Aang said, finally raising his head to look at her. His eyes looked like they aged ten years. "I'll take you home."

Mai followed him, despite the stink of bison as she climbed on top of the saddle. She held onto the edge with one hand and Zuko's shoe in the other. Aang snapped the reigns and shouted "Yip yip!" With a groan, the bison lifted off as Mai's thumb grazed the bottom of the sole. Her skin snatched on a tiny shard of glass left there, a small bead of blood appearing. Her eyes narrowed slightly. The wind howled.

She had been so lost in her thoughts that she almost missed Aang’s question. “Do you really think someone would go out of their way to hurt Zuko?”

Mai glanced at him from under her fringe, the tension between her eyebrows receding as she thought of something to say. The earnestness of his big grey eyes reminded her of Ty Lee, and she had to look away from how overwhelming it was.

“It’s not impossible,” Mai said, pulling the lapels of her coat closer to her svelte frame. “Zuko pisses a lot of people off. It’s not that far-fetched if someone were to get him back.”

“Sure, but planning an elaborate kidnapping seems like a lot, even for kids like Chan or that guy you used to date? Kei something?”

“Kei Lo.” Mai rolled her eyes, shifting her grip on the shoe and the saddle's edge. She’d ridden this thing once, when Aang had invited both her and Zuko to a protest that his friend Katara organized. It’d sounded more fun than sitting at home listening to another one of her parents’ lectures. Ironically Kei Lo had been the subject of one of them over a year ago. “But I think you’re referring to Ruon-Jian.”

“Right.” Aang angled his head behind to look at her. “You’re a lot cooler than Ruon-Jian. So why—”

“My parents made me,” Mai said stiffly. The nerves in her stomach were flipping more than Ty Lee on one of her best days. “Can you drop me off at Ty Lee’s?”

The burrow between Aang’s eyebrows deepened, but he obliged and snapped the reins once.

With a low, Appa started leaning into the other direction, his entire weight dipping entirely to the left. Mai’s nails dug into the saddle’s edge, gritting her teeth behind the flat line of her lips. Wind brushed her bangs back, her sleeves rustling as she resolutely glued her eyes into her lap. Zuko penetrated through her thoughts like her knives sunk into the thick, stubborn surface of the earth. She ignored Aang’s attempts at a conversation as she wrapped her other arm around her middle to quell the nausea curdling in her gut. The bison pivoted heavily and Mai was sure she was turning green.

Missing people left clues if they were being taken and needed to leave a piece of themselves at the site, a toss of hope. Aang’s earlier words about Southern Water Tribe girls often going missing replayed in her head as Appa started lowering. Some were found and more weren’t. It was a gruesome fact of a life that strayed to the periphery of her mind when she walked home late and the sky had darkened to the color of her hair.

As Mai carefully climbed down Appa and nodded to Aang in thanks, she felt some type of certainty that Zuko was not dead. The pessimist in her clashed with the thought. He’d been missing for over forty-eight hours, and whoever wanted him gone would have the sense to just slaughter him and burn the body unless he was being used for ransom.

And as far as she knew, Iroh hadn’t received anything…

“Mai?”

She stopped mid-step, turning her head just so that Aang could see half of her face.

“We’re here for you whenever you need us,” he said, his shadow bisecting the rising moon. “You’re not alone.”

He and Appa lifted off again, leaving a lukewarm gust that did nothing to thaw the chill that ran down her spine.

It must have been the third day by now.

Zuko could feel the centre of his qi spark in his stomach, which meant the sun must have been rising by now. He thought of the color orange and almost chuckled. The faint, subconscious texture of silky hair brushing against his shoulder made the pit of his chest pang.

That, or…

He winced into the pillow, dirty now from sweat and blood no doubt coming from his head—fuck, his head. It felt like something was drilling into the skull and trying to penetrate through both eyes. There were now fresh burns in his back that Zhao had counted, although Zuko wasn't sure what the numbers were supposed to mean. The vibrating toy Zhao had stuffed inside him as a parting gift didn’t help. His head had accidentally banged on the headboard during one of three times he came, and now he felt overstimulated. Zuko didn’t even know if he’d even slept a wink while trying to alleviate the incessant pressure inside him.

Light streamed into the room just as Zuko let his eyes slip closed. Heavy footsteps patted across just as the heavy door clank shut. Cracking open one eye, Zhao’s smug grin leered down at him.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Zhao chuckled. It prompted a scowl from Zuko. He snarled when the back of Zhao’s fingers brushed against his cheek, lingering at his jaw. “How did you sleep?”

Instantly, Zuko’s hands curled into fist. His broken fingers throbbed near instantly, a hiss slipping between his teeth. “Ah!”

“Mm, my favorite sound,” Zhao said, settling his weight into the bed, half of his body draped across Zuko’s. He peppered Zuko’s shoulders with kisses, hands stroking his sides. The chains rattled as Zhao slung his leg over Zuko, leaning down to scrape his tongue over his sensitive nipples again. “I called out of work today just for you.”

Screaming, shouting, threats all erupted as Zhao bathed his chest with his saliva, using the heels of his hands to ground them into his nipples. Zuko could feel them hardening under his touch, unconsciously clenching around the toy when Zhao’s hand slipped down to pull it out. It made him shudder, drawing an unhappy gasp from him as Zhao’s fingers started thumbing his nipples like the strings of a pipa.

“Get off of me!” The shriek could have rivaled a wrathful dark spirit. “You—you fucking bastard! When I get out of here I will burn this entire building into ash with you in it!”

With a pointed, brutal pinch Zhao finally stopped. But it didn’t seem like that was enough for the man because the next thing Zuko knew, a tongue was shoving itself into his mouth. Like a giant slug sloshing against his teeth, the roof of his mouth, into the back of his own tongue. He was backhanded when he bit down on Zhao’s slimy appendage.

A hand wrapped around his throat. Fingers squeezed once, a warning. “Do that again, and there will be a greater price than you can even conceive, boy.”

Spots danced across his vision, leaving three of Zhao’s heads in their wake. Zuko wasn’t sure which one was the original, so he gave all of them the stink eye. He was expecting Zhao to laugh, to mock him, but what he said next made his blood freeze.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t want anything to happen to that girl of yours.”

Zuko’s mind blanked for a moment. He could have been gawking at Zhao with a stupified, koi fish-out-of-water look for an hour and he wouldn’t have noticed. Nothing could have broken him out of the stupor until her name came rushing forth, thawing the ice and melting it into a deepening dread.

“Mai, isn’t it? Governor Ukano’s daughter?” Zhao held a screen in front of his face, Zuko’s eyes falling into the photo—the one Ty Lee had taken months ago at the park, when Mai had lamented about orange sunsets and droned animatedly about her art class. Zuko almost didn’t hear Zhao when he said, “She’s quite the looker, I’ll say. Fire Nation women have always been alluring, but this one I might say is—how do I put this? Tragically beautiful.”

Zuko didn’t miss the implication. “You wouldn’t—”

“Oh, I would.” The smile on his face was sickening as he pocketed the phone away. Zuko felt his stomach cramp. “I wonder if her screams are as delectable as yours. And her hair—very shiny. Like silk. You must know whether it feels just like it, I presume? I wonder how she’d feel inside. Unlike you, she could bear my offsp—”

He dispelled the plume of fire that burst from Zuko’s chest and out from his mouth. His smile widened into a broad, toothy grin as Zuko felt every inch of his face contort, heedless of his swollen black eye.

His voice was strangled and near demon-like. “You don’t touch her.”

“And who’s going to stop me, you?” Zhao threw his head back and laughed. “I think I’ve proven well enough that I can easily capture anybody I’d like. You’re proof of that.”

Zuko shook his head, ignoring the way it made his vision swim. “Trust me, she would slice your dick clean off in seconds before you could even take a step towards her.”

“Bullets are faster than knives,” Zhao said.

Zuko’s mouth felt dry. His voice turned hoarse. “You can’t—”

“I can, and I will.” The conviction felt like shards of glass piercing into his head again, sharpening as Zhao lifted off the bed. “With the way you’ve been testing me, perhaps you’ll need an incentive to behave like a civilized human being.”

His hand was already wrapping around the doorknob when Zuko called out, pulling at his restraints. “No, stop! Just tell me what you want.”

Zhao didn’t move away from the door, but he did turn sideways with a single arched brow. Zuko’s heavy breathing was the only thing that occupied the space between them, and he felt like he was being suffocated from it. Zhao’s stoic expression turned into a smile.

“Simple,” he said, turning all the way and returning to Zuko’s bedside. “Make it good for me.”

His hand deliberately stroked Zuko’s bicep as he felt his brow pull in confusion. “Huh?”

Zhao rolled his eyes. “I want you to play along,” he repeated, with an exasperation that sounded like he was speaking to a very dumb toddler. “Do what I say, make it as though you were the prostitute I ordered off a random number. If you can only understand it better in vulgar terms, I want you to become my bitch.”

The bluntness had Zuko’s eyes blowing out in outrage, appalled Zhao would even suggest something like that. Make it good for him? Reciprocate? A mental image of himself willingly giving away his body to Zhao’s order sprung forth, and it made the nausea in his stomach tighten. “You’re bluffing.”

“I was able to capture you,” Zhao said, the gleam in his eyes making it seem like Zuko was being consumed into a candle. “I wonder if her lips taste just as good as yours.”

For long, daunting seconds Zuko imagined Mai in his place, stripped down to nothing and chained like a rabid animal. Ripped apart by Zhao within brutal minutes. He swallowed thickly at the idea of her screaming—unflappable as she was, her stone-like persona reduced to pieces as Zhao used her body as nothing more than a sex doll. It was a horrible sight Zuko never wanted to see, and Zhao was dangling it over his head under the threat of playing along. Being nothing more than his whore.

His entire body sagged, the chains uselessly loosening from where he’d pulled his arms taut. He could feel his heart bang painfully against his most-likely-broken ribs. Zhao cocked his head, his face almost non-reflective.

His answer was barely above a whisper. “Okay.”

Zhao’s teeth flashed. “Okay…”

Zuko closed his eyes and saw twin buns. “I’ll…” he clenched his jaw, his answer coming in a flat, disaffected voice, “I’ll do what you say.”

“And if I release you from those chains, you won’t fight and try to run away?”

It was sour and teetering on waspish, but it didn’t make it any less truthful. “No. You have my word.”

Like a viper-bat, Zhao pounced on him. Zuko barely flinched, a spike of pain searing through his ribs, as the chains on his hands were unlocked in seconds, then his feet. Zhao shuffled to his knees and unbuckled his belt. Zuko’s eyes widened when he pulled his pants and underwear down.

Last time when Zhao had shoved that thing inside his mouth, Zuko never got a good look at it. Seeing it now almost made his resolve crumble.

Zhao’s penis looked painfully hard from where it peeked out from the thick thatch of pubic hair, the tip engorged with blood, making the skin flare a furious shade of pink, the veins protruding like vines on a tree branch. A dot of white dripped out from the tip and trickled into the sheets. A laugh rumbled through his chest at the aghast look in Zuko’s eyes. “Have you ever given a handjob before?”

Paling shades lighter than the moon, Zuko resolutely pressed his lips together. Reluctantly, he started sitting up, hissing when his fingers pulsed in protest. Looking at them, they’d become rapidly swollen since the other night, the bruises darkened between purple and blue, as if one were fighting for dominance and came to a tie.

He didn’t get a chance to gawk a second longer when Zhao snatched his wrist. Zuko stared intently past his hip, eyes locking onto the doorknob from across the room. As if his staring alone could compel it to open through sheer force. Zhao’s voice floated above his head, like a dam that’d split wide open and crashed into his eardrums as his hand was slathered in an oily, thin liquid. Something nauseatingly flushed, leathery and firm pressed against his palm.

“Like this,” a warm breath blew in his scarred ear, drawing a small flinch. “Ah, ah. Yeah, just like that. Just a little more pressure. Fuck, I knew you’d be good at this.”

His right eye blurred, barely acknowledging the way Zhao’s head hung back, his gaping maw revealing the roof of his blood red mouth and burnt pink tongue running across. The semen that slowly dribbled down felt like hot water scalding down Zuko’s skin. With a tiny gasp and full-body shudder, he felt frigid metal crushing his neck. A long chain was attached to it, the end held in Zhao’s hand.

“Remember,” the chain pulled taut, dragging Zuko with it. “If you bite, I’ll hunt that girl down.”

Two fingers prised his mouth open, dragging the flat of their tips against his tongue. Zuko made a sound that a sparrowkeet-iguana would envy. His upper lip pulled back from his teeth for a second, before he remembered himself and rolled his tongue between Zhao’s fingers when the man ordered it from him. He was sure the tip of his good ear flared bright red.

Just as roughly he’d pushed them in, Zhao thrust them out to then yank the chain attached to the manacle on his neck. He had almost ten seconds of a staring contest with the tip of Zhao’s penis when it slithered inside his mouth. An exhale expelled from Zuko as he felt his dry, cracked lips stretch to accommodate the girth.

The minutes blurred. Zuko’s eyes watered, the muscles in his neck pulsing as Zhao’s fingers formed a fist into black tendrils. His hair must have been soaked by now, in blood and sweat, the ends no doubt curled. The weight in his mouth was beginning to make his jaw ache, half-afraid the man was going to thrust all the way into his uvula like last time.

"Hang on," Zhao whispered, pulling out. Zuko didn't even have a minute to be relieved when Zhao laid on his back. He pulled the chain taut several times, and Zuko's cheeks grew hot when he realized Zhao wanted him to crawl on top. "Ride me."

Willing his body to go unstill, Zuko straddled the man. The pain in his fingers had become numb, his ribs still protesting, but he'd been through worse. A long car drive with barely half his vision reappeared in his mind, but then it made him think of Uncle and Zuko didn't think he could imagine him right now. If Uncle saw him like this...

"Oh, for the love of," Zhao huffed, His hands lifted Zuko's hips and they both gasped as Zhao speared himself inside. "Tilt your hips back and forth just, yes, like that. Just like that. Oh, oh, keep going..."

Lewd, wet sounds filled the filled the room like a fog. Zuko's vision blurred as Uncle sprang to his mind again. The night he had officially moved into the old man's house. That creepy monkey statue Uncle bought at that stupid antique shop Zuko begged him to stop going to. Uncle's ridiculous rendition of Four Loves. 

"Talk dirty to me," Zhao ordered.

"I—" Zuko felt his temper flare. He wanted to spit into the man's face. Smoke puffed out from his nose.

Zhao's hands heated up against his hips in warning. Zuko cried out when he felt the flames lick at his skin. "I'm not repeating myself."

His tongue was frozen on the roof of his mouth. He had a vague idea of what 'talking dirty' meant, but beyond things his friends had mentioned in passing, nothing was coming to mind. 

He hadn’t realized he'd stopped moving when Zhao lifted his hips. Zuko hissed. "My apologies," Zhao chuckled. "I suppose I should have also assumed you wouldn't know what talking dirty entails."

The anger in his chest felt like it was going to boil him alive. Zuko glared down at the man when he next said, "Just tell me my cock feels good. Improvise a little, too, while you're at it. Now chop chop." For emphasis, he patted Zuko’s flank like he was an ostrich-horse. 

Nausea creeped up his throat, but Zuko swallowed it down thickly as he flattened his palms against Zhao's chest. He winced when another thrust hit him, feeling the pain inside him spasm suddenly. "Um," he sneered. "Your, um, your cock feels good."

Zhao opened one eye. "Yeah?" His teeth glared in the light, tongue bright pink across his lips.

Through grit teeth, Zuko said, "Yeah... like I'm being split open."

A deluge of filth emerged from Zhao’s mouth that Zuko kept his lips clamped shut, feeling something bleak pass through him as he stared at the door across from him. "Yeah, yeah. I'll make it good for you, baby. Shit, you're so tight. Are you going to be a good boy for me, are you gonna be my perfect baby boy?"

The pressure inside him grew. His ribs pulled with each roll of his hips. Zuko’s eyes had glazed over, but he couldn't help but look down. He saw through the silvery light and the bruises on his hips and stomach had spread. He closed his eyes when Zhao let out another groan, this one more guttural than the last.

He was suddenly lifted off and Zhao loomed over him. Déjà vu hit him when Zhao slid himself back into Zuko's mouth. He tasted salt and blood and his nostrils flared as he tried his best to breathe through it.

“That’s it,” Zhao was panting. Zuko stubbornly squeezed his eyes shut. “Ughhh. Monkeyfeathers, I’m gonna come.”

He mercifully pulled out, but Zuko was not afforded a moment of reprieve when, not unlike a volcano, he spilled his release onto Zuko. Hot strings of semen burst into his hair, skin, and the tip of Zhao’s penis dragged along the seam of his lips. It smeared with the blood made from his teeth and anus. A small, tired sound came out of his bruised mouth as Zuko’s face was pressed against the softening appendage.

Zuko did not trust his voice, chest heaving greedily. Desperate for air. It pulled at his ribs, feeling the bones jostle every time he inhaled. He could still feel the weight of Zhao on his tongue.

“You do make quite the sight,” Zhao said softly, hooking two fingers under Zuko’s chin. Zuko held his breath. “I wonder what Mai would think of you now.”

With an exhale, Zuko sobbed.

Headmistress Shihan’s office was uncomfortably bright when Ming and Jee arrived. There were several pictures and accolades of the woman’s accomplishment hung across the walls. Plaques with solid gold trim faced the two from where they were lined on opposite sides of the deep mahogany desk. A bookshelf almost as tall as the trees outside stood to the far corner of the room, filled to the brim with novels and Fire Nation memorabilia. 

Shihan sat behind her desk, tidying up a thick stack of papers she’d been reading when they came in. Looking up, she frowned and straightened her glasses, setting the papers aside.

“Hello,” she said politely, but the confusion bled into her voice. “May I help you?”

Ming smiled, although the look in her eyes must have been picked up based on the way the lines in Shihan’s forehead deepened. “You’re Headmistress Shihan, correct? I’m Detective Ming and this is my partner Jee. We’re currently investigating the disappearance of one of your students.”

“Zuko.” Shihan’s eyes widened before Ming even showed her the photo. She took it anyway, the corners of her mouth drooping. “Yes. I called General Iroh to inform him of Zuko’s absence yesterday. I was actually the one to recommend that he call you.”

“May we…” Jee gestured to the two desks.

“Oh, yes, please. Let me clear my schedule for the hour…”

Clicking followed as deft fingers darted across the keyboard. Ming eyed one of the plaques when she saw the familiar crest of the Royal Fire Academy for Girls.

“You taught at the academy?”

Shihan’s lower lip was sucked into her teeth. “Yes,” she pressed a key with finality, “but that was another lifetime ago. You have my full attention now, Detectives. What would you like to ask me?”

Ming raised an eyebrow, but Jee, none the wiser, answered. “You said you were the one who recommended the General to call us. Did you suspect something might have happened to Zuko?”

“After the end of the day, all of the teachers email my assistant their attendance sheets so that she can make me a list of students who were marked absent or late. She’s been out sick for a couple of days so I received them first thing when the day was over. That was when I called General Iroh when I saw Zuko was marked absent for all of his classes. When he told me that no one has seen Zuko since yesterday after school, I figured…”

They both nodded in understanding. Ming shifted in her seat. “Can you tell us what type of student Zuko is? We’ve already spoken to his uncle and mother. Do you know of the friends Zuko might have made here?”

“Hm. I think it's that young airbending prodigy and Governor Ukano's daughter,” Shihan said, eyes shifting down. “Good kids, although young Aang can be a bit of a troublemaker when he’s around that Southern Tribe girl. Mai… was actually a student of mine. In the academy.”

“We were told that she and Zuko had gotten into an altercation.” Jee had been leaned back in his chair before he remembered himself and stiffened his spine.

Shihan grimaced. “I heard. Zuko’s voice carries, even twenty feet from this room.”

“Is he often like that?”

Before joining the force when she first moved to the city, Ming had been a prison guard in the Fire Nation. She remembered many faces that wanted to kill her, developing a thick skin over the years as she broke up fights, sparred with the other guards, and even interrogated prisoners when a weapon was found in their cell. She learned to gauge faces over time and Shihan’s looked like she was trying her best to be neutral.

Eventually, the woman spoke. “Zuko is a fine student. Not at the top of his class, although he excels in subjects like Literature and Fire Nation History. According to his file, he almost risked repeating Grade 7 due to the circumstances of his, um.” She eyed the empty space between Ming and Jee’s heads. “Accident.”

“The scar?” Ming probed.

Shihan made a face not unlike that of a person who’d swallowed a lemon. “Yes, that. But thankfully he was able to take courses in the summer so that he could catch up to the rest of his classmates and we haven’t received any problems like that since then.”

Jee cocked his head. “So he’s never caused any trouble at this school?”

“I said he was a decent student, not an exemplary one,” Shihan corrected. Her entire face seemed to drop as she let out a small sigh, massaging her temples. “His behavior outside of academics… Zuko is more emotionally volatile than some of the girls in the Royal Fire Academy were, I can tell you for sure. Spirits, his temper may be on par with a pygmy puma or an undomesticated dragon. Just last week he’d gotten into another fight with another classmate of his over a spoon.”

The incredulity in her tone made both Jee and Ming raise their eyebrows and exchange side-eyes with each other. From everyone’s words—Iroh, Ursa, and now Shihan—an interesting painting of Zuko was being drawn right before their very eyes. Ming itched to know more about the story behind his scar, the way the former General and Headmistress tiptoed around the topic. Ursa's strange certainty that Zuko wouldn't ever try to return to his father. She vaguely recalled a previous girlfriend of hers responding to an emergency call that’d come from the General’s house. Rumors about Zuko driving all the way from the Fire Nation to Republic City with the scar still bleeding circulated in gossip magazines for months after it was announced he’d been disinherited.

“How often does Zuko get into these fights?”

Jee’s voice broke her out of her stupor, bringing Ming’s attention to the Headmistress. 

She clicked her tongue. “Almost every week. Sometimes multiple times a day, depending on which student arouses his bad mood.”

"And would one of these students..." Jee waved his hand in the air. Shihan's eyes widened at the implication.

"Goodness!" she said. "No! Or—I wouldn't think so."

Ming's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "You don't think so?"

"More often than not, these fights typically escalate between him and Ruon-Jian," Shihan said. "But as... academically challenged as Ruon-Jian is, I don't think he would ever harm Zuko to the point of no return. And to be quite frank with you, detectives, he wouldn't win against Zuko."

Jee seemed like he was processing that, although Ming knew him long enough to tell that he was probably think of another way to catch the headmistress in a lie, even if it's a vain hope that she might know something more about Zuko's disappearance. Or maybe he was still latched on to the possibility Zuko had simply run away with the clothes on his back.

Before either could speak, the door burst open. A frazzled teenage girl with her glasses askew raised her voice over the roar of screams coming from behind her, "Headmistress Shihan, Aang and Ruon-Jian are fighting in the hallway!"

Everything was sore.

Zuko’s mouth felt sticky from the bitter taste of semen. Zhao was big enough that his bruised cheeks bulged like a chip-squirrel’s after shoveling an armful of nuts into its mouth. Or Sokka eating his grandmother’s cooking.

He had still been reeling from the last blowjob Zhao forced him to give when he'd felt large hands shoving his shoulders back. For a while, it'd been Zhao either shoving his fingers or random objects inside him, shoving in and out until Zuko cried out. He felt himself clench over every foreign object, an ache in his pelvis that grew worse the bigger and sharper the object. Where did the man even get a pair of pliers from?

Then the sharp trill of the phone ringing startled both of them and Zhao had cursed under his breath before slapping the handcuffs back on. Thankfully he neglected to lock the ones on his ankles.

“I have to take this,” he’d said, pouting like a toddler being told playtime was over. Zuko futilely turned his head away when Zhao tried to kiss him goodbye. “Don’t worry, I’ll hurry back.”

Please don’t.

Zuko hadn't bothered to deign him with response as he watched Zhao walk away. Hours must have passed. His chest was still heaving from the force of his most recent orgasm. Zhao had used the pliers to ruthlessly pinch his prostate until Zuko was shouting. It had almost been as bad as the glass bottle Zhao forced inside him. The man had an extraordinary penchant for his torture and had found one of the very few things he could manipulate Zuko into his sick games.

Mai.

Unbidden tears sprung to his eyes, but he didn't let them fall in case Zhao returned. Once again his mind drifted back to her. He wondered how she was faring after their breakup. If she was thinking about him. If she'd noticed he was gone. He wanted to reverse time and fix everything that had gone wrong. Unsaid what he did—to her, to Father. But now he had gone and gotten himself kidnapped and put Mai in danger.

"You look terrible."

Snapping his head to the side—bad idea—he blinked repeatedly as his eyes caught the silhouette leaned against the wall. The edge of a blade gleamed from the shadows. 

Despite the sickness slithering across his stomach, his aching head, and the throb of his brittle ribs, his entire face split into a grin. "Mai!" he said, ecstatic. "You're okay!"

Mai stared at him from underneath her fringe. She looked lovely, her silk-like black hair down and a razorblade between her fingers as she effortlessly flipped it. She was blank-faced, but her eyes shone brilliantly.

Zuko's smile wavered. "Wait, how are you here?" he asked. The panic in his chest returned like it'd never been gone. "Zhao promised..."

Unless this wasn't Mai and he was losing his mind, but he felt comforted by her presence. He swore he could almost feel the warmth of Mai's eyes from where she stood, listening to the knives and skin making contact like a second heartbeat beneath his skin.

Mai opened her mouth as if she were about to say something, but a loud bang drowned her voice out.

Every vein in Zuko's body went rigid as Zhao's broad figure emerged from the shadows. He frowned when he saw the man stalk towards him with an unstable gait, a tall bottle of sake loosely hanging from one hand. He stank of booze and Zuko felt the bruises in his skin pulse when Zhao towered above him.

Bright, scornful eyes glowered down at him. He partially blocked Zuko's view of Mai, but he noticed how unnervingly still she stood. The corner of his lip curled like that of an angry komodo-rhino. "You think I'm stupid?" Zhao said. His voice slurred with the slight sway of his body.

Dumbfounded, Zuko blinked. "What?"

"You think you're so perfect," Zhao said, hatred glowing in his eyes. It made him unbuckle his belt and push his pants off, revealing no underwear underneath. The bulge between his legs had grown to full mast. "You and that fucking—that fucking lightningbending cunt of a—"

He reached behind himself, the confusion in his face growing as he patted at his bare ass before he eventually patted himself up to his shirt pocket, unveiling a key. Zuko watched, eyes sharpened to a point, as Zhao clumsily unlocked the manacle entrapping his left wrist. With his arm free, a weak, guttering flame erupted in Zuko's palm as a warning. If he aimed it right, maybe he could catch Zhao—

"Oh no. None of that." Snatching his wrist, the skin peeling and turning green from the metal, Zhao twisted it until there was a quiet snap that made Zuko bite the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. The flame fizzled out quickly in his hand. "You fucking—fucking bleeding hogmonkey whore, just like your mother—"

Zuko snapped. "Don't you dare speak about my mother that way!"

He was backhanded, dots dancing in and out of his vision as Zhao climbed on top of him. He felt his larger hands grab his hips and twisting them. The arm that was still chained protested at being pulled when Zhao flipped the bottle of sake upside down, a spate of sharp, alcoholic liquid coming down on him.

Zuko didn't realize it was him that was screaming. His vision of Mai watched helplessly as the liquor's downpour stung across the open wounds on his head, his teeth clacking against the glass when Zhao forced him to drink it. He couldn't even spit it out with Zhao smashing his hand against Zuko's cut lips. The agony broiling his abused body didn't even register when Zhao unexpectedly flipped him flat on his stomach, his right arm still chained to the bedpost.

CRACK.

For seconds, that sickening sound was the only thing in the room. His right shoulder had been pressed all the way to his back, the thick manacle fighting to keep his wrist in its vice drip while Zhao lifted his hips high enough that his chest was the only thing touching the mattress. An unruly, chilling howl masked Zhao's hips brutally snapping back and forth. Zuko could have never imagined the noises his chest produced, the high wordless screams for mercy that the pillows couldn't even muffle. Zuko twisted frantically when he felt Zhao's fingers pierced into his skull and took his hair with it, his neck dangerously arched back, the edge of the metal cuff cutting into the skin. 

"That's it, scream for me, you honorless slut," Zhao laughed breathlessly. Something hot tracked down Zuko's thighs. He felt more burns being engraved into the skin of his back. "Let's see how much of a man Ozai raised you to be."

He shoved Zuko's head down with a dizzying force, before the pressure in his tailbone pushed and pushed. Screams came out like bile. Time was spinning from his fingers. The mattress squeaked like an entire herd of squirrel-mice. Zuko didn't know if there were any words had been willed out of his chest, but if they did then they fell on deaf ears because Zhao was spilling across his ass and thighs.

It wasn't over. With one hand Zhao spread his cheek apart and liquor poured down on his abused rear. A fresh wave of wails erupted as Zuko's entire body thrashed. Color couldn't even been seen. There was only the fire spreading across his arm, ribs, ass, eye, everything from his toes to his head weeping with dark red blood. An unpleasant odor cut through the room, something dripping out of him and onto the sheets. Had he... defecated himself?

To his humiliation, he whimpered when he felt Zhao flip him back. The fresh burns stung when they hit the sheets. Zuko groaned feebly, lightheaded and seconds away from vomiting. He felt Zhao's body crawling closer, his face obscured by the shadows when he aimed his tip with both hands at Zuko's face.

Hot liquid and pungent stench hit him as the steady stream of urine rained down on him. He futilely used his free hand to protect his face, but within seconds he was drenched, hair matted to his skin. His eyes stung fiercely. He hadn't even realized it that Zhao had calmly redressed himself and left until the door clanged closed.

Zuko laid there, paralyzed, as he willed his toes to move. He curled and uncurled them, chest heaving. His throat burned, an awful feeling he couldn't swallow down. Mai's deathly silent spirit in the room walked closer to him until she was kneeling beside the bed, her hand on his chest. He could feel her dark eyes branding his skin. "That looked like it hurt."

His eyes were wet. Tears had started running down his temples. Despite himself, there was nothing Zuko could have done to stop the single broken sob expunge itself from his throat, tasting blood. It wasn't stopping, his entire chest, shoulders, even his face wracking with them as he turned his head away from Mai, hot tears running down the bridge of his nose. 

"Uncle, please, please hurry," Zuko gasped through the tears. "I—I can't..."

He let the words fade away, let the cries wring out from the fabric of his skin, until there was a cracked, near-silent "Please..."