Chapter Text
“I will set you on fire, you fiend!”
Azai kept running as fast as her little legs could take her, the cackles of the monster following behind her heralding her escape.
Not enough- she wasn’t fast enough and she knew it. Though where her pursuer was faster, Azai was smarter. She had lived in this palace for three years, she knew the passages and the halls and she knew that if she could just get around that corner she would be-
“Nope, c’mere.”
Mercilessly she was plucked up from the floor by her armpits, Lu Ten throwing her over his shoulder without remorse as he wandered back to where she had escaped from. The traitorous pig. Azai had thought him to be the most tolerable of her family members—her siblings not included—but he was just as bad as the rest of them!
Wiggling did nothing, his grip on her too secure. Maybe she actually had to go through with her threat. Shit, she didn’t actually want to- wha no! Actually! He was dragging her back to her execution, he deserved some burnt fucking robes for his backstabbing ways!
Flames danced at her fingertips for one singular moment before going out.
“No.”
You extinguish Azai’s fire? You extinguish it like common cooking pit? Oh! Oh! Jail for Azula! Jail for Azula for one thousand years!
She didn’t even get to singe the fabric!
Azai levelled the most severe glare she could at her sister who walked behind their cousin, but the little snake just stared back at her with a bored expression, the only give-away for her sadism being the barely-there twitch to her lips.
Growling under her breath she dug her fingers into his shoulder, ignoring his wince, and once more attempted to wiggle free of her binds, to claw her way back to freedom and away from the constraints that had been placed upon her.
“Is she always like this?”
“Yes, since the rock. Why’d you think Zuzu was guarding the roof?”
Sparks flew out of her mouth as she snarled, attempting to climb over his shoulder and jump down his back. For a single second it even looked like she might manage it, Azula looking slightly surprised at the embers that left her, and she even managed to knee Lu Ten in the chest.
Then all her hopes and dreams were crushed as he restrained her legs with a chortle and Azula rolled her eyes at her.
“Release me!” She howled to deaf ears, her commands going unanswered and disregarded as if they were nothing but trash.
Lu Ten was openly laughing at her misery now, his shoulder digging into her abdomen with every breath and she tried to turn around to bite him only to find she couldn’t reach anything other than his clothes.
“Are we sure Cinders didn’t get swapped out with someone else in the night?” He asked, and while Azai couldn't see his face, she could hear the mirth in his voice.
Azula crossed her arms and rolled her eyes again. “Yes, this is normal.”
“I don’t know if ‘normal’ is the words I’d use-”
Letting out a roar of nothing but rage she redoubled her efforts to get free, Lu Ten nearly losing his balance from how much she struggled. Good.
She was not throwing a tantrum. Tantrums involved tears and blabbering and childish lack of emotional regulation. This was a protest, a resistance, a use of her right to overthrow a controlling regime that wished to stifle her and bring her to heel. Azai wouldn’t fucking let them!
“We’re pretty sure this is good for her, actually.” A raspy voice cut in as her brother joined them as they dragged her to her doom. She glared at him too.
Betrayal thy name is Zuko!
Everyone in her family was against her!
“It’s the one time a year where she yells and fights instead of just being calm and unbothered.”
Emotional regulation! She literally just mentioned it! It was a skill she had developed as she grew up, but even she had her limits to what she could be exposed to before she fucking snapped!
“Let me go, Lu Ten, before I feast on your bones!”
“Yeah,” Azula continued where The Betrayer had left off with a shrug, “we think she might randomly explode into a million pieces if she isn’t allowed this.”
“I will melt your eyeballs! Unhand me you porcu-swine!”
“…I see.” The tone he used was less humourous now, but Azai couldn’t give less of a shit as she continued her struggle.
“I’m going to curse your entire bloodline!” She screeched.
“You are part of my bloodline, flame-risk.” Lu Ten rebuked without a care.
It was the same every year. No matter the kindness she showed to the staff, the engagement, the interest, the fucking loyalty— none of it mattered on this day. It never fucking did. They all just watched her be carried away with hidden smiles and poorly concealed daggers that they’d then bury in her back as they refused to aid her in her time of need.
There were fewer servants in the halls than there usually were, most of them preparing for the celebrations. Though there were a lot more guards; also a preparation for the celebrations. None of them lifted a finger to help, Azai was even sure she heard a few muffled chuckles as they passed.
She had a reputation, she knew. It was literally an intentional effort on her part to build it! The poised princess, the responsible one, the one older than her years—if only they knew how true that last one was. But each year without fail she knew she’d have to build it up from scratch after this day.
“You know, most kids enjoy birthday parties.”
Her and Azula’s birthday.
The fight drained out of her like someone had pulled the plug of her tub filled with anger, and she slumped down against her cousin, letting her legs and arms dangle in defeat. She went boneless enough that he nearly dropped her.
“Most kids don’t have to deal with snobby, pompous, stuck up socialites who are only there to try—and ultimately fail—to rub elbows with father, grandfather or uncle.” She muttered dejectedly into the back of his robes. “And their gifts always suck! They all just play a pissing contest-”
“Language!”
“-of who can get us the most extravagant thing! I never like it and can never use it, eat it or wear it! It’s always worthless to me,” she whined, and while Azai didn’t really care about the gifts, it was a good point for a seven year-old to make, so she stuck with it.
“Yeah, I understand that,” Lu Ten said and Azai could hear the sympathetic grimace he wore.
“And you hate being around a lot of people.” The Betrayer revealed, like the betrayer he was.
Azai didn’t even bother lifting her head. “They’re loud and annoying. I’m allowed to dislike crowds,” she grumbled, half muffled by Lu Ten’s robes. “And formal wear should be burned and erased from existence.”
Was that too much to ask? To not be forced into stuffy robes in the middle of summer? To get to keep her comfortable clothes? She’d even give up the casual ones and instead wear her everyday ones! All the layers as long as she could skip the fucking formal wear. She was a princess dammit! Even her sleeping clothes were more expensive than the fanciest fuck at the damn party! That had to count for something.
A hand snuck into her dangling one, Azula giving her a light squeeze as they walked. Goddammit. Azai had said that she’d always forgive her, huh? She squeezed back.
“You’re allowed to have your opinions about formal wear- Agni knows I have my own,” Lu Ten said with the patient voice of a responsible adult. The urge to bite him returned tenfold. “But you’re unfortunately gonna have to get used to crowds. Think of it like training for when you two start at the Royal Fire Academy after summer.”
It was noon in almost the perfect middle of the hottest season in the Fire Nation, yet somehow it felt like the temperature had just dropped down into the negatives. Slowly- oh so slowly, Azai pulled herself up, still holding on to her sister’s hand; the same sister who now glared holes in the back of their cousin’s skull. Azula had known then. Forgiving her was postponed.
“When I what?”
Turning her head a bit she could see and hear Zuko frantically gesturing to Lu Ten as his shoulder got more and more tense under her stomach.
“We need to go get ready for the celebrations,” the eldest of them attempted to change the subject, subtlety no longer in the cards. “We wouldn’t want to-”
Azai tried to make a break for it.
She failed.
But her fighting spirit was renewed.
It was a long journey back to her room.
Their birthday was in the middle of summer. As in smack dab middle of it. Most people saw this as more proof that lent itself to their firebending prowess, and their father often used it to shit on Zuko who was born at the tail end of summer.
At the moment Azai didn’t care about firebending at all, because she was being forced into a fucking death trap of a garment. Do not get her wrong, she had fled that first year as well before she knew about the formal wear—that had to do with the amount of people. But after learning of the hell that was formal wear under the blazing sun? Escape became a necessity, not just a desire.
She couldn’t have cared about the disappointing looks Ursa would send her afterwards for her un-princess like behaviour if she tried, and somehow she cared even less about the lectures that Ozai would give her as well, burns and all. She just needed to try to avoid it, she owed herself that.
Each year she had failed. Each year she had been forced to suffer through the heat. This time was no different.
So now here she was, still giving her nods of thanks to her handmaidens Shui and Yimu, but biting her tongue hard enough to bleed because she knew that if she actually spoke, well, she’d just scream. And they didn’t deserve that.
It wasn’t even like the robes were uncomfortable; Azai liked how loose they were and that they left most of her body obscured! It meant that it would be easier for her to move without an opponent predicting her attacks.
The problem was the fucking heat.
In typical Fire Nation fashion—literally—the clothes were mostly black and dark red, the few golden decals not enough to make up for the sheer sun-absorber that her outfit was. It fucking cooked her from the inside every goddamn year and she hated it.
“Finally done with your tantrum, Zaza?” She also wasn’t a particularly big fan of Azula’s smug little smirk as she leaned cross-armed against Azai’s doorframe. It wasn’t malicious, but it was certainly amused at her expense.
With a deep breath Azai forced herself not to scowl. “It wasn’t a tantrum.”
“Right,” her sister rolled her eyes and straightened up, “It was a controlled freak-out filled with reasonable arguments such as ‘I’ll feed you your own tongue’ and ‘put me down or I’ll hang you from your own intestines’,” she continued in a not at all accurate—and Azai would hear no points towards the contrary—impression of her. “That last threat was pretty good, actually. You coming?”
Azai clicked her tongue but fell into step easily with her sister as they wandered towards the grand-courtyard where the sound of revelry could already be heard. The rest of their family were probably already there; it was only right for the birthday kids to be fashionably late.
Speaking of fashion, their clothes were identical, their hair and the little scar in Azai’s eyebrow remained their only physical differences. Unless you counted their gifts from Lu Ten, but those were both hidden under their clothes; Azai’s still strapped to her arm and Azula’s probably still hanging around her neck. It was the only time Azai felt any kind of jealousy towards her sister because apparently she was Elsa’s fucking opposite and the heat never bothered her anyway. Meanwhile Azai had been in this damn getup for the whole of five minutes and already felt like tearing all her clothes off and returning to monke.
She cast a glance to the side as they walked, their shoes barely making any sound between them. There were windows and the halls were mostly empty; most of the guards and servants busy at the celebration. It wouldn’t be completely impossible for her to-
“No running.” Azula hooked her arm through hers and burned the last shred of hope Azai still clung to.
“You hate me,” she whined quietly, not fighting her sister in the slightest, even if she dragged her feet the whole way to the courtyard.
There were a lot of people there, some still standing and mingling, some seated at different tables enjoying some refreshments. The mass moved like waves, ebbing and flowing this way and that, and Azai wanted to crawl out of her own skin and into the ground where she could just wither away and die. Her family was seated at the far end, their long table elevated above the rest of the people present, looking out over the entire courtyard.
Azulon sat in the middle with Iroh, Ozai and Ursa to his right in that order. On his left was Lu Ten and Zuko, the two seats beside her brother left empty for their arrival. It’d make it easy for party-goes to come up to the birthday kids without interrupting the rest of their family, but it was still a bit unusual.
Eh, Azai was willing to bet her left arm that Lu Ten had something to do with it.
“Now presenting: princess Azai, fifth in line to the dragon throne, and princess Azula, sixth in line to the dragon throne; the twin flames of the royal family!”
Azula didn’t drop her arm when the announcer spoke, and with the tension that Azai could feel spreading through the limb, she was well aware that she wasn’t alone in her unease. But where Azai’s stemmed from just general social anxiety, Azula’s was a bit more born of paranoia; assassin’s or just assholes that wanted to poke at her title and her position were things that she kept a constant eye out for. Azai didn’t care much about that, only enough to not get killed for treason or something.
The crowd parted around them like the red sea as they strode forwards, the announcement of their arrival having had the intended effect of both silencing the people but also drawing their attention. Attention that Azai could very much go without.
Still, she was a princess in this life, and if she didn’t play her part she couldn’t achieve her goal of un-fucking her siblings’ childhoods. So she sucked it up, raised her chin and squared her shoulders as they made their way to their table. Her face was that of an impassive mask, her back ramrod straight as she took her seat next to Zuko while Azula took the seat to her left at the edge of the table; both her cousin and brother welcoming them with small grins.
The silence rang over the courtyard for a few moments as the rest of the attendees found their own places, before Azulon rose in a rustle of robes. Despite the geezer’s age, Azai had to admit that there was a certain elegance to his movements, something born out of years on the throne, no doubt. She still hated him though.
“On this day,” he began, his voice not booming but still going heard over the grounds, “we celebrate the joyous occasion of my granddaughters’ seventh birthday; their strength and intelligence growing at the same rapid pace as their years.” He turned to them. “Tomorrow you will give back, but today is yours. May your honour never waver and may your accomplishments bring pride to our family and our nation.”
Short and sweet, just like Azai liked it. The longer she had to hear the bastard talk the more she wanted to strangle him, so this worked just fine for her.
As soon as he was done he clapped twice, and servants poured out into the courtyard with platters of food and drinks, the previous refreshments being replaced with full meals in the blink of an eye.
Well, if nothing else on this cursed fucking day was good, then at least the food never disappointed. When Azulon took the first bite the floodgates opened, the people below chowing down without abandon. Or they would have if they weren’t snobs. Seriously, every prick at this place was a pretentious little shit who’d eat a burger with a knife and fork. Fuck, she didn’t doubt that they’d probably try and do it to tacos too.
“D’she try to flee on the way here?” Zuko broke her out of her disgust directed at the company present, barely swallowing before asking his question quietly.
Azai opened her mouth to protest and defend her integrity, but Azula beat her to it. “Obviously.”
She had lost count at this point of how many times she’d been betrayed by those she loved the most.
Zuko and Lu Ten snickered and Azai silently added another tally to their list of sins before turning her nose up at them and chowing down on her own grub.
The food was amazing as always, but she had to admit that the combination of piping hot mapo tofu and the midday sun beating down on her nearly gave her heatstroke on the spot. Not that it slowed her down; if Azai was meant to die by eating hot food in great weather, then so be it.
Her family didn’t bother her much for the moment, all of them equally invested in their own food, though Azai had them all beat in speed because holy shit did being a princess come with privileges. The royal chefs being the biggest boon of them all. Seriously. Bless Gianyu, Jiang, Qing, Huan, Xun and whoever they hired for extra help with the celebrations into the next ten generations. They were Azai’s heroes and made her stay in this imperialistic hell-scape worth all the hassle.
Chugging down a glass of water she dove right back in with vigour. She completely ignored Azula’s slightly disgusted look at her side, for she held no qualms about shunning the non-believer.
Truly, Azai was not religious at all, but the royal cooks absolutely had to be some god’s gift upon this rotten earth, for each bite was truly nothing short of divine.
She might've been crying, honestly. Or she was just sweating a lot.
Probably the latter, judging by her cousin’s next mind blowing words.
“Still don’t really have the hang of heat regulation?” Lu Ten chuckled gently and Azai felt her brain short-circuit, her chopsticks pausing halfway to her mouth, her blessing in meal form falling back into her bowl. “You’re seven, it’s alright. I didn’t get it until I was ten.”
Azai turned to him slowly, her eyes hard as diamonds where they skipped over Zuko who had paused his own eating and was now trying to melt into his seat.
“Heat regulation.”
“Yeah, you know,” her fool of a cousin waved a careless hand in the air, as if he hadn’t just turned her world upside down. “Keeping yourself warm when it’s cold, keeping yourself cool when it’s warm.”
“We can control our body temperatures.”
“Yes…?” It seemed he finally realised he had said something wrong, and his acknowledgement came out hesitant, his easy smile going slightly strained at the corners.
Azai nodded just a bit before turning to her brother who looked like a deer caught in head-lights as she stared at him. “You knew about this?”
Zuko did his best impression of a misinformed visitor to Jurassic park after everything had already gone to shit and thought that T-Rexes couldn’t see you if you stood still. Azai was no T-Rex though.
“You’re the only one who didn’t know, Zaza.” Came Azula’s casually bored voice from her left. Azai was pretty sure she almost snapped her neck with the speed she turned to her with. It didn’t matter- who needed a connected spinal-cord anyway? “I mean, they do cover it in class before you even start firebending training.”
Her eye twitched as Azula’s smirk grew.
“What class.” It wasn’t truly a question, it was a demand for an answer; a promise of hellfire should she be denied.
Azula, eyes twinkling, took an obnoxiously loud and long sip of a cup of tea that had spawned sometime between them sitting down and Azai trying to fill the bottomless pit in her abdomen.
“History.”
History?!
“History?”
Why the ever loving fuck would they have covered that in history class? In what brain dead fucking universe did that make any goddamn sense?
“Yep,” Azula said without remorse, popping the ‘p’ as a cherry on top. She was really testing the limits of Azai’s vow.
“They did, Zaza.” Zuko confirmed with a sympathetic grimace, rubbing his neck. “It was covered with the lethal heatwaves that came out of nowhere and terrorized the coastline millennia ago. Where most people in the towns died except for the firebenders who had instinctively corrected their temperatures.”
Azai felt her chopsticks creaking in her hand under the pressure she put on them.
“It is a pretty instinctive ability,” Lu Ten added carefully, a small smile playing on his lips, “but then there are unlucky folks like you and I who need the extra practice.”
She leaned back in her chair, despairing at the sky for what felt like an eternity while biding her time.
“Life is a soup and I’m a fork.”
It only brought her a tiny bit of peace to hear both her siblings choking on their food and her cousin being forced to stifle his laughter lest his tea shoot out of his nose.
But it was something at least.
She was dying. She was actually dying.
It didn’t matter how much water she drank, or how many cold snacks were brought out; she was evaporating on the spot. She had become one with the chair, an eternal prison meant solely for suffering.
Her family was worthless, after everything she’d done for them it still hadn’t been enough to gain even a modicum of support.
Azai had tried to needle them, to get them to teach her the basics, but apparently that was an ‘inappropriate activity for a party’. As if it wasn’t her own goddamn party. Not even guilting them had worked, though Lu Ten looked the most tempted before ultimately denying her once more.
Fucking hell, there were easier ways to kill her than by letting her melt into nothing but goo.
If they hated her they should have just said so.
But no. Instead they just took their turns snickering at her while refilling her glass as if that would actually do something. She’d probably be more grateful if someone poured the water over her damn head instead.
She couldn't even be fucking angry about it, because anger raised her body temperature and then she’d actually fucking die. The entire world was out to get her, it was so unfair. Here she was, torturously stuck in the agony of the sun while her family enjoyed her suffering while dealing with none of their own.
Once Azai learned the regulation thing it was so over for these bitches.
“Come on,” a warm hand was placed on her arm and she barely kept herself from hissing like a cat, “we need to go greet the guests.”
She gave her sister a look of barely contained disgust, “No thanks, I choose death.”
“We can stay in the shade.”
Azai was on her feet in a slash, tugging Azula out of her chair with vigour, “Come, sister dear! We need to fulfil our duties as hosts!”
With a muffled snort of laughter sounding behind her that she graciously ignored, along with the no-doubt scathing eye-roll Azula sent her way, the young transmigrator hobbled them both off to the blessed sanctuary that the trees of the courtyard provided.
The trade-off was of course that now everyone and their mothers would come and try to butter them up, and no amount of sympathetic looks from Lu Ten and Zuko would save them from that, but for some shade? It was a worthy investment.
Especially since she’d just do what she always did and Zone out instead. At this point she had practically mastered the art of humming and going ‘Oh?’ and ‘I thank you for you kind words’ at the right moments. She could hold an entire conversation without having any idea what the other party was saying.
It was an art form and she was Michelangelo ready to bless a new canvas as the first couple of vipers meandered over to them.
A swift shift in her demeanour, a gentle expression placed upon her kid-face, an eye-roll from her sister more felt than seen, and she was in action.
Noble looking woman with the fakest smile Azai had ever seen? Boom, fooled with a benign grin and a polite nod of her head. Easy.
Pompous fellow coming right after who seemed old enough to have been changing Roku’s diapers? Talked at them for ten minutes about something or another with Azai demonstrating her mastery over ‘oh’s and ‘ah’s. Intermediate, bring her something challenging dammit!
Fools came up to them, one after another, each one as boring as the last. At least it would have been pretty boring if Azai wasn’t making up fun scenarios in her head and planning for future events while successfully duping the old bags of bones that tried their luck.
A war-person thingie wanting to show off, a lady trying to appeal to their interest in beauty and utterly failing due to their complete lack of such, some guy who was in the cabbage selling business or something. The list went on and on for what felt like hours. Her only solace was that the shade didn’t make her want to kill herself so she’d finally be put in the cold dark earth as a refuge from the sun.
There was a subtle but sharp jab in her side, Azula’s elbow digging in deep and Azai hid a wince.
“-My son is barely older than you-”
Huh?
The newest prick in front of them had a long goatee that reached in between his collarbones, a balding head and the classic red and black robes of the Fire Nation. Utterly unremarkable beyond his goddamn audacity.
Azai had to cut him off because the hell? Was this fucker actually attempting to create and arranged marriage between them and his son with them? Y’know, the seven year-olds? Fuck her sideways, it would have been nice to that degree of autonomy in the decision, if it wasn’t for the fact that Azai knew damn well he was only talking to them because he thought they were young and dumb. They had no actual power over that because — again — they were seven. Had literally just turned seven.
What the fuck.
“I apologise,” her voice wasn’t quite sharp when she interrupted him, per say, but it was certainly pointed, ready to sink deep between the ribs if she felt it necessary, “lord-”
“Zeng.” Azula whispered quickly to her without Azai needing to prompt her and without moving her mouth.
“Zeng,” she she repeated dutifully, “but that is a matter you would have to bring up to our father, prince Ozai.”
Azai hatred for her sperm-donor in this life devoured any other kind of emotion she might have felt for him, therefore she didn’t fear him, not really. But other’s did. Other’s were very aware of his cruelty and his violent ambition and temper, they just didn’t have the power to do anything but fear him for it.
She hated him with every fibre of her being, but she’d admit that it was useful to be able to wield his name like a weapon. With concealed amusement she watched as the noble blanched, his face draining of colour before he sputtered some excuse and was off.
As he left she felt more than saw the way Azula relaxed, having gone far tenser than she usually did. Azai didn’t blame her in the slightest, it’d been a new situation with no clear way out that didn’t seem threatening. And with the talk they’d had a few days ago Azula’s biting remarks had tampered off almost entirely.
She was still figuring out what situations warranted a nasty response and which ones she might simply be overreacting to. Reacting in a way that was allowed of her station, but wasn’t fitting for a kind person. Azula was young and despite her intellect, she was still learning about the world.
Until she figured it out, Azai would be there to help her along.
Azai gave her a little nudge in the side and a small grin.
I got you.
Her sister didn’t smile back in any meaningful way, she kept the stoic mask of a princess perfectly in place, but she nudged her back gently.
I know.
Then she turned back ahead, waiting for the next pricks to come and bother them.
…Aw, man. Now Azai had to get back into the damn zoning out zone again.
Before she could manage, another couple of nobles ass-hats came up to their shaded area, and Azai suppressed a sigh.
It was a man and a woman, nothing special about them except for the fact that once Azai was done mentally rolling her eyes, she spotted the child they had with them.
“I greet you, princess Azai and princess Azula,” the man said lowly as he bowed, his wife and the child by his side doing the same, “I am Ukano, a minister of-”
Azai tuned him out, carefully shifting her body to be a bit more closed off. It was a subtle thing, but something she’d realised that many picked up on unconsciously. If she was less inviting, they were more likely to address her sister instead, figuring they’d have a better shot with her. Dumbasses.
It always allowed Azai to let her mind drift further than if she actually had to give some sort of response, though often she used it more to take in her surroundings which made sure Azula wouldn’t complain about her heaving all the heavy socialising onto her.
His name was vaguely familiar, yet neither him nor his wife seemed all that noteworthy. Not in the ‘they’re poor at this rich people thing’ way, but just in the ‘this is a snob at a snobby thing’ way. Basically a fish found in water; if Azai tossed some flames into the crowd she’d probably light six people identical to these two on fire. The only difference was be their kid.
As he continued yapping about his accomplishments and what-not, Azai let herself study the girl who stood quietly in her father’s shadow. She seemed about Azula’s age and long, dark robes fit for a girl of noble rank hung from her frame, her hands clasped gently together in front of her. Her posture almost mimicked Azai’s own in its reserved nature. The biggest difference was that where Azai held herself in a way that brokered no attempts for conversation, this girl held herself meekly, trying to be unobtrusive.
No… no that wasn’t quite it, actually. Not unobtrusive, instead… like she was trying to be overlooked?
Azai held back her frown, forcing her expression to remain neutral.
From the look of it, the girl was trying to do the same. She just didn’t yet have the amount of experience Azai did. It was in the way she clenched her jaw, showing irritation or perhaps apprehension. It was the tension in her shoulders, the sharpness of her tawny gaze, and how still she was- as if trying to convince her present company that she was merely a statue.
It was a fair tactic, given that she didn’t have much else to hide her like it seemed she wish to do. There was a reason other than individuality for why Azai kept only part of her hair up, and that was because of the way it obscured parts of her that might give her away. Those tight shoulders could’ve definitely been hidden by a curtain of hair, but the girl had hers cut in short bangs that couldn’t hide the twitch of her eyebrows while the rest of her raven tresses were up in two buns-
Holy fucking shit.
There was absolutely no fucking way. No. No Azai was either hallucinating or she was mistaken. People looked very different in real life than as cartoons after all, but they were still pretty damn recognisable. And this girl certainly only had the observant and half dead eyes of someone Azai recognised. There was no way.
“-Oh! And this is my daughter, her name is Mai.”
Oh my fucking god.