Chapter Text
“Show me how to use a knife.”
Zuko stands in front of Mai, arms crossed. He taps his foot impatiently (nervously) as he awaits her response.
His approach is intentionally direct. He is the Prince afterall, and he knows that she, in theory, should listen to his orders. Azula bosses her around all the time, and Mai listens to her even if the girls are technically friends.
But Mai is not Zuko’s friend. Not really.
He knows Mai, has known Mai for years, but doesn’t really know her. There are foggy, half-formed memories of playing with her and other high born children when their mother’s would take tea together, but it’s not like he could recall a specific conversation they may or may not have had. Azula had laid claim to Mai early on and Zuko knows better than to try to share with his sister.
So Mai is not his friend and their interactions so far have been limited to grumbling together when Azula and Ty Lee force them into games, the two older children being paired off by Azula for reasons he could only imagine are due to their reluctance to participate at all. He, at least, preferred being paired up with quiet Mai over bouncy Ty Lee.
Zuko was fine with their limited interactions up until recently.
He had been playing (no training) with his new Earth Kingdom dagger that Uncle had gifted him while his sister watched out of the corner of her eye, pretending to read the scroll in front of her. She scoffed at a particularly theatrical lunge, and he spun around, shooting her a scowl as his face grew warm.
“What?!”
“You look stupid. That’s not how you fight with a knife.”
“And how would you know?”
“Because Mai trains with knives and it looks nothing like that.”
Zuko rolled his eyes and turned to continue his mock battle when his sister’s words registered, causing him pause.
“Wait, Mai trains with knives?”
Initially, he was somewhat skeptical. Azula tended to lie or exaggerate, especially if it was to make him feel more inadequate. He couldn’t picture the quiet, still girl training with anything really. Then again it was more rare for academy students to not learn some sort of combat training and it’s not like he could picture her choosing another form of combat either.
So he chose to believe his sister this time (knows it’s still probably a mistake to do so). Even though he wished Azula went about her approach differently, she was in theory, correct; If he has a knife, he should learn how to properly use it.
He was sure in his decision earlier, but now as he stands in front of Mai, Zuko has his doubts.
She regards him with a frown and a squint. Her cheeks are flushed and he worries he’s offended her. Maybe she lets Azula boss her around like that because they are friends, and now she probably thinks that he’s just a meaner bossier version of Azula (like that’s even possible).
Maybe she’s called his bluff and knows that he does not intend for her to suffer any consequences; that he’s more likely to pout and storm off than inflict any sort of punishment upon her if she chooses to reject him.
Perhaps he could have asked (he should have asked) instead. But he preferred to avoid the embarrassment and shot to his pride in the face of rejection. Plus he’s the prince. He shouldn’t have to ask for things.
Mai still hasn’t given him an answer and he shifts awkwardly under her gaze. His resolve withers under her scrutiny and he decides that he doesn’t really want to force her to do something she’s not interested in, anyway.
Zuko alters his approach.
“Um...Azula mentioned that you were training with knives and you were really good at it,” he offers by way of explanation. “And Uncle gave me a dagger and I thought I should learn how to use it.”
Her face relaxes into something unreadable, though not malicious, as she finally reaches her conclusion. “Okay.”
***
To Zuko’s surprise their training session isn’t terrible. If his mother were to ask, some words he might use to describe it would be good and fine and kinda nice.
Mai explains to him that she doesn’t really focus on close combat training but instead distance. She trains with small daggers and kunai rather than something like Zuko’s knife, but she can teach him what she knows if he’s still interested. Zuko could argue that he’s now even more interested, but he just nods along agreeably instead of voicing it aloud.
They practice with his dagger and she explains the importance of the weight of the hilt and the speed of the rotation. Her instruction is blunt and to the point even though it’s still the most he thinks he’s ever heard her speak. When there are lulls in the instruction, he waits for her to say more because he has been hanging onto every single word.
He is, quite frankly, impressed by her.
She takes the dagger from him. Zuko observes as she goes through the motions, graceful and steady. Even though she had lamented that his knife isn’t a proper throwing dagger and wasn’t weighted for this use, her aim is still perfect. There’s a flash of the steel as she releases the knife and hits the freshly carved ‘X’ in the center of the apple tree dead center. It is...slightly terrifying, but the quick sting of fear quickly transforms into admiration because that was honestly so cool.
She demonstrates a few more times, pointing out details here and there that she says he should begin to pick up if he’s watching closely (he is). He follows how she angles her body towards the target, her posture tall and sure. How she casually spins the knife between her hands in ritual before her fingers steady around the handle. How there is the smallest dip in her brows and her lips press together when she raises her arms and in one fluid motion extends her hand and the knife releases - a quick flash of steel and then thunk as it embeds skillfully into the makeshift target.
She punctures the tree with ease time and time again, and Zuko now could never see how this wasn’t a part of her all along.
Between her flawless demonstrations and helpful instruction, Zuko does not think there’s a chance that he could possibly fail when it’s his turn to try.
He still does.
His first attempt hits the tree - very off target - and the knife doesn’t stick. Instead it clatters to the ground pathetically. He produces a similar result the second try. The third time it doesn’t bounce to the ground. Instead the hilt sticks straight up out of the dirt approximately two meters in front of him - it’s trajectory from his hands launched straight towards the earth.
How is he so bad at this?
Mai sighs, probably wondering the same. She pulls the dagger out of the ground, her nose scrunching in disgust as she eyes the earth sticking to the formerly pristine blade. She pulls out a handkerchief and works on polishing away the dirt.
Zuko growls in frustration.
“I don’t get it!” he shouts.
She offers the dagger back by the hilt, still using the handkerchief to hold the blade. “Your rotation is off.”
“No kidding,” he grumbles as he takes the dagger back and eyes it for damage. She shakes the dirt from her handkerchief before folding it and tucking it away.
“You’re trying to throw it too hard,” she explains. “It’s about accuracy first. Strength and speed come after.”
His face twists in confusion.
She rolls her eyes at him, though it’s not mean-spirited. “You need to focus more on your wrist.”
She steps towards him and he realizes that he’s never been this close to her before. Never noticed how soft her hair looks or how red her ears were. Did she get sunburned? They’ve been standing under the shade for the most part, but he’s pretty sure he would have noticed her ears being that red earlier.
She reaches out to grab his arm and he braces for the contact (even though he doesn’t understand why), but she hesitates. She flicks her eyes up to his (a soft pale gold, he notes).
“May I?” she asks.
He swallows back the lump in his throat and nods as she grabs his wrist gently. He almost jumps at how cold her fingers are (and for no other reason).
“Your wrist is too stiff when you throw, but if you release as you flick your wrist like this-” she explains as she guides his wrist to flick and aim, her fingers graze over his as she demonstrates when she would let go “-you’ll have better control.”
She steps away far too soon as the space beside him suddenly feels very absent. He looks over to where she now stands and nods, determined.
Zuko rolls his shoulders and turns back towards his target. He follows her advice, doesn’t swing his arm as hard, instead concentrating on his wrist. The knife doesn’t hit the target, but the thunk it makes as it embeds itself into the tree is more than satisfying.
He spins around to gauge her reaction. She’s facing forward, focusing on the knife sticking out of the tree (and seemingly very intently not at him), but a small smile tugs at the corners of her lips. She crosses her arms casually and tilts her head.
“Better.”
His chest swells as an accomplished grin spreads across his face. He fetches the knife from the tree, eager to continue practicing his newfound technique.
***
He’s lost count of his attempts when he finally hits his mark. It’s not quite dead center, but Zuko still can’t stop the toothy grin that takes over as he approaches the target and eyes his handiwork.
“Not bad,” Mai says evenly behind him. He spins around and is about to protest against her indifference until he catches sight of her small, wry smile and eyes alight with interest.
He mirrors her expression and crosses his arms in front of his chest, smug and proud. “I bet no one else you’ve taught has picked it up this quickly.”
She rolls her eyes dramatically. “That’s because I haven’t taught anyone else.”
“Not even Azula?” he asks casually and tries to avoid thinking about how his heart thuds the realization that this lesson was reserved just for him.
Mai shrugs. “She hasn’t asked,” she explains. “Or ordered.”
Zuko inhales sharply, his face suddenly growing hot as he cringes at the memory of his initial approach to their training session. It wasn’t his best moment. If he had just asked, it would have saved him from that brief panic and his current embarrassment. In hindsight, he regrets even thinking that intimidation was the better alternative to simply asking.
“It was a joke,” she says when he doesn’t respond.
He puffs out a breath in relief that he hadn’t completely offended her earlier. He should probably apologize for ordering her around, but decides it’s probably better if he just doesn’t mention it at all.
“Thank you,” Zuko mumbles instead and rubs the back of his neck in an attempt to shake out his embarrassment.
He had actually liked spending time with Mai, and he’s pretty sure she’s been enjoying their training session as well (or at least, not hating it). Even though they’ve spent all afternoon together, Mai is still a bit hard to read. She says things so evenly and monotone that he doesn’t always pick up on her sarcasm, but once he catches on it almost feels like he’s discovered her secret language and he’s only just scratched the surface.
He finds himself wanting to learn more.
There must be other techniques she could show him, or more she has to say. Her barely there smiles and good-natured sarcasm led him to believe that she must not have hated their afternoon. He realizes he could, probably, just ask.
Zuko opens his mouth to say something but clamps it shut when he’s interrupted by his sister’s familiar shrill behind him.
“Mai! There you are. You’re always so quiet we didn’t even realize you were missing.”
He spins around to glare at Azula marching towards them, Ty Lee bounding behind her.
Azula looks past him, addressing Mai. “I hope Zuzu was good company, though I doubt it.”
“I’m better company than you,” he answers for her and quietly hopes that Mai doesn’t state her preference (even if he’s now more than a little curious).
Azula continues to ignore him, which only causes him to stew further.
“Come on, Mai. We’re leaving,” she orders and with a tilt of her chin strides past them with Ty Lee in tow.
Zuko looks to Mai although he already knows what she will choose. She keeps her head down, and her mouth takes on the shape of an unimpressed frown. Her eyes flick up to meet his briefly. She looks like she might have something to say. He wonders if maybe he should say something, anything to find out what she might want, but the potential for rejection with Azula still in earshot is not worth the risk.
Her eyes return to the ground and she walks to the edge of the courtyard where Azula is impatiently waiting. Zuko watches as the girls disappear around the corner. Mai does not look back his way before she is out of sight.
It was a nice afternoon, but it had to come to an end sometime, he supposes.
***
It was a nice afternoon, but it had to come to an end sometime, she supposes.
Mai allows herself to briefly wonder when she’ll be able to spend time with Zuko again, but quickly banishes the thought. He can practice on his own and probably doesn’t need her help anymore. It’s not like he thought of her as a friend.