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1.
There are occasionally stray fishcats in the garden.
Sometimes they are swimming in the pool peacefully, too far out for anyone to reach. Sometimes they hunt the turtleducks, which Azula watches gleefully and Zuko watches with mixed feelings: they are very sleek and clever, but he always hopes the turtleducks will still escape. He roots for and against the fishcats at the same time.
Sometimes the fishcats come out of the water, shake themselves off, and rub against Zuko’s legs, begging to be petted. Zuko always pets them. Sometimes he spends too long petting them, and Azula comes and drags him away to play some game she’s come up with, telling him he spends too long with the little wretches. The fishcats aren’t supposed to be in the garden in the first place, really, but it’s impossible to keep them out.
Zuko asks his mother if he can have a pet fishcat for his birthday. He promises he will take care of it.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Ursa says.
Why?
“I don’t think your father will approve.”
Oh, right. Father would probably think Zuko’s love of fishcats makes him weak. Zuko resolves to spend less time petting them and following them around, and more time studying and working on his katas.
2.
There is a fishcat on the dock when Zuko boards the ship to leave the Fire Nation. It rubs up against his legs. He’s seen this one before, never been able to resist petting it. Sometimes he’s given it scraps of food.
Weakness like this is why he is being banished. He nudges the fishcat away with his boot.
3.
There are freshwater fishcats and saltwater fishcats. Zuko has mostly known the freshwater species, but he sees saltwater fishcats in his voyages. They swim beside the ship sometimes, poking their heads out of the water playfully. The soldiers don’t try to catch them for food like other fish—even when one comes up in their nets, they generally let it go. As they say, eating fishcats feels a little fucked up. They’d do it if they had to, but they don’t. They have plenty of provisions aboard, even if they’re a little low on money.
One day Zuko hears a commotion while he’s meditating in his cabin. He comes out ready to yell—what are they doing, messing around, get back to work—and sees lying on the deck the biggest fishcat he has ever seen in his entire life. It must be twice the size of a man; or at least, twice the size of Zuko. Tawny, striped, and soaking wet, gills pulsing as it growls in anger and pain. It’s wrapped up in a net and it’s bleeding, and this is what has all the soldiers buzzing with confusion.
“What did you do to it?” Zuko yells.
Jee speaks for the group. “It was an accident, sir. We didn’t mean to net it. Some of its injuries seem to have prior cause, though—perhaps an encounter with an eagleshark, or some such thing.”
Zuko feels an odd twang of panic at the thought that not only is the beast hurt, but it’s hurt in some way that has nothing to do with them—something they can’t control, something wild. “Well, what are we going to do about it?”
“Lao is going to have a look at it, I believe,” Uncle Iroh interjects. “To see if there’s anything he can do to help.” Lao is the ship medic.
Zuko hmphs. He crosses his arms and steps back. He is not a medic.
The fishcat survives, and the next day it is even somewhat friendly. This is because the soldiers have been feeding it with other varieties of fish, and it can tell that while Lao poked and prodded him, he did some good. It growls still, and doesn’t seem to appreciate the collar and leash that the men have given it—tying it to a post on the ship—but it also purrs sometimes, and suffers some of the men to scratch its ears.
Some of the men. When Zuko tries to pet it, it hisses.
“I believe it has noticed you yelling, nephew,” Iroh says diplomatically. “You might try to approach it more carefully, perhaps with some food…”
“I am not lowering myself to befriend a fishcat!”
Iroh sighs.
Really, though, it isn’t the sort of thing Zuko can let the crew see. They can’t see him as weak; he’s a prince, even if he’s been banished. So he avoids the fishcat for the couple weeks that they have it on board. He is still somewhat sad when they release it back into the sea.
4.
Zuko has been giving Mai nice food and all the presents he can come up with. Having a girlfriend, having a home, is nice. Having Mai is particularly nice.
He can tell she thinks it’s nice, too. Neither of them say it, exactly, but they admit that their lives, currently, are “not all that terrible”.
He is happy with her, until he realizes he has to leave.
The night before, they are going for a walk. In front of one house, there is a basket full of newborn fishkittens. Zuko can’t resist getting close to get a look. They are very small. All their fur is fluff, and their scales are so tiny that you can hardly see the pattern. They can’t open their eyes.
“So you still like fishcats,” Mai says. She looks at him with the same expression he uses to look at fishcats. It makes him feel a little self-conscious.
“I guess so,” he says.
“They seem to be giving these away,” Mai says. “You could take one.”
“No.”
“Still not allowed in the castle? I could take one and keep it for you. I don’t hate them that much.”
“No, I… Thanks, Mai. But I don’t want a pet.” He’s not staying long enough to have one.
“You know, I think you’d do a good job as a fishcat owner,” Mai says. “You’d probably take care of it just fine.”
Zuko is weirdly flattered.
5.
“Fishcats try to eat Momo,” Aang says. “We usually avoid them, or chase them away.”
This is understandable.
+1.
It’s been a year since Zuko became Firelord. A long, slow year, full of one problem after the next. Multiple revolutions and efforts to break Ozai and/or Azula out of prison. Multiple assassination attempts. Diplomatic meetings with the other nations with varying degrees of success. Even a couple attempts to match-make Zuko, which he turned down with great prejudice. Mai would kill him.
It’s been a year, and Iroh’s been largely absent. He returned to his teashop, saying that if he were around, everyone would assume he was the power behind the throne. That or they might try to depose Zuko and put him in power, and no one wants that.
But now, on the anniversary of Zuko’s coronation—also the anniversary of Sozin’s Comet, his sister’s breakdown, his father’s imprisonment, and any number of unpleasant things, but Zuko is trying to stay positive—Iroh is back for a visit, and he says he has a present. It is in a basket with a cloth over it.
Zuko thinks it’s probably either a tea set or a Pai Sho set, and he’s not sure which he’ll have to work harder to look happy about. He braces himself, and lifts the cloth.
Underneath he finds one tiny fishkitten. It’s fur and scales are silver and brown, and it looks to be less than a week old. Zuko wonders where Iroh got it. He lifts it out with one hand, then hands the basket back to Iroh and adjusts his grip. The fishkitten only squirms a little, and lets out a quiet mew.
“Thanks, uncle.”
“I thought it would make a good addition to the palace. And it could be a good friend.”
“Well, I can always use more of those.” He holds the fishkitten against his chest. It’s probably getting fur on his imperial robes, but he doesn’t really care.