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Zuko rises with the sun because he always does, and because the universe refuses to let him have anything nice.
Somehow Uncle always manages to sleep in a bit, and if that’s not cosmically unfair Zuko doesn’t know what is.
His shift today at the Jasmine Dragon doesn’t start until the afternoon, something Uncle considered to be a kindness and Zuko considers to be near-torture; he is so bored, so utterly and profoundly bored, and sure, the tea shop is monotonous and people are stupid, but at least when he’s there he’s doing something .
He should probably meditate. Or make Uncle breakfast. Or clean the apartment.
He does none of these things.
Instead, he slips into all black, finds the mask buried deep under emerald tunics, and leaves through his bedroom window, swinging down onto the lower roof of the building next to theirs.
It’s still quite dark, the sun only just beginning to color the city in soft ambers and pinks. The Upper Ring is usually quiet at such an early hour, much quieter than the Lower Ring had ever been.
He travels from rooftop to rooftop for a while. There’s no plan, only a familiar, primal need to move .
So move he does.
He falls into a rhythm, keeping to the shadows and ducking down whenever he hears something.
If there’s anyone he’s not stupid enough to fuck with, it’s the Dai Li.
Zuko’s fast, always has been, but Ba Sing Se is huge, and he’s only about halfway to the Lower Ring when he realizes he needs to turn back now or he’ll be late for his shift. (Not that it’d be the first time.)
He stops mid-roof and sidles over to hide himself in the shadow of an overhang, catching his breath. It’s warmer, now that the sun has fully risen, and he’s sweating under the mask. He allows himself a few moments to rest before getting up and turning around to head back the way he came, and it’s only then that he sees him.
Perched on the opposite end of the roof is a child.
A literal child. Squatting on the apex of the roof like he’s a pelican-pigeon, grinning toothily up at Zuko.
Zuko startles—he hadn’t heard anything and wasn’t expecting anyone to be there, let alone a child . He jumps back, losing his balance as he does. He scrambles to regain his footing, but it’s too late.
He falls off the roof. And lands directly on a large pile of trash. It’s fitting, really, it’s just his luck , that something was there to break the fall, and that something happened to be a heap of rotting garbage.
Zuko lets out a groan as a frenzied woman hurries away in the opposite direction. He closes his eyes, hoping that maybe, if he keeps them shut long enough, he might just die, right here.
“Hey!” a small voice calls.
Zuko opens his good eye and levels a glare at the child above him, who’s leaning half off the ledge, that stupid grin still split across his face.
“ What? ” Zuko growls back.
“Can I have your autograph?”
When Zuko does finally make it to the shop, he’s sweaty, dirty, and late. And definitely smells like garbage. (Who knew being an infamous vigilante would be so inconvenient?) He slips in the back, hoping to at least splash his face with water and brush some of the grime from his clothes. He knows he won’t be able to avoid Uncle’s questions, but that doesn’t mean he needs to answer them. Or give him any unnecessary hints.
He sneaks past the kitchen, praying Uncle is busy preparing orders. They have a small staff now, but Uncle still prepares most of the tea. Something about fathering the teapot. (Or was the teapot the father? Zuko had only been half listening, not that it would’ve made much of a difference.)
Zuko walks out onto the floor, fumbling with a knot in his apron string as he does. The new server, Lee—because apparently everyone is fucking named Lee, around here —always uses Zuko’s apron when he’s not around, and has a horrible habit of tying double, no triple knots into the apron string. And because Real-Lee is smaller than Zuko (Fake-Lee), the whole thing is super fucking inconvenient. Why he doesn’t just use his own fucking apron is beyond Zuko, but he suspects it has something to do with that whole The Universe Hates Me thing.
He’s so preoccupied with untying the seven, count them, seven , separate knots Real-Lee has ruined his apron with that he walks right into the front counter. He loses his balance and tumbles forward, folding over the counter, his momentum flipping him and landing him on the other side, splayed on his back.
He hears a giggle—no, a cackle —from up above him, and tilts his head up to see two young, blurry girls sitting at the counter. The girls are identical, and moving in sync, swirling above him in two, sickening circles and—wait. That makes no sense. He definitely hit his head. Fuck.
Begrudgingly, he sits up, rubbing the egg that’s already forming at the back of his head. He takes a few steadying breaths before pulling himself up, white-knuckling the counter for support. He blinks a few times, and as he does, his double-vision begins to clear. The girl is still laughing as he drags himself up and steadies himself on the counter. He closes his eyes and breathes until his head feels slightly less spinny and the nausea isn’t coming in waves anymore.
When he finally is able to open his eyes without puking, the girl is still snickering. He readies his most violent glare, but is stopped short when he really gets a look at her and, simultaneously realizes two things.
1. His glare is useless, as the girl’s eyes are clouded over, milky white. Blind.
And:
2. He knows this blind girl. He knows her because she is the blind earthbender who travels with the Avatar.
“You!” He shouts, shifting into a fighting stance.
“Uh-uh Sparky. Not in front of the paying customers.”
Zuko looks behind him, finding the tea shop to be mostly full.
He lets out an exasperated, long-suffering groan, and hops back over the counter.
“Come with me,” he spits, grabbing her by the wrist and dragging her back toward the kitchen.
“Hey!” She complains, but allows herself to be pulled nonetheless.
“Uncle!” Zuko yells as he bursts through the kitchen door, an accusation in his tone.
Uncle looks up from the tea he’s currently brewing, a serene smile on his face.
“Oh, hello Nephew.”
“H-Hello? Don’t hello me! What is she doing here? ”
“She needed a job.”
“She needed a job.” Zuko repeats, dumbstruck.
“I owe some people some money.”
“You—what?”
“It’s a long story, involving an underground Pai Sho ring and a lot of hustling. Turns out mobsters really don’t like it when you swindle their cash away from them.”
Zuko can only stare.
“Anyway, normally I’d just kick their asses and be done with it, but Aang really doesn’t like violence, and he’s still a bit pissed at me for the whole Appa situation.”
“Aang?”
“The Avatar—don’t tell me you didn’t even know his name .”
Zuko’s mouth opens, and then closes. Opens, then closes again. He’s concentrating very hard on not breathing fire at the girl right now.
“Ooh, sorry Uncle. I think I broke him. I forgot about the whole ‘don’t mention the A-word’ rule.”
And—what!?
“ Did you just call him Uncle?”
It’s going to be a long fucking shift.