Chapter Text
(artwork by moonifall on Tumblr)
Friday, April 22, 2016
He didn’t want to be here.
This wasn’t the first time he’d been at the Shirshu Club, but that didn’t mean he liked it.
Especially not on a Friday night, when college kids seemed to sprawl the dancefloor like wolves.
The reverberating sound-beats from Toph’s elegantly-blasting amplifiers were not just cutting off all possible trains of thought; the young man could feel the headache brewing at full speed. It meant that his brain was - as always - getting confused by the soundwaves coming in fully from one eardrum, but only partially from the other. That sort of thing always happened whenever he stepped into nightclubs with electronic, synthetisized beats bouncing off the walls… laser lights dancing every which way to make the space even more seizure-inducing.
And it was exactly why he tried to avoid places like this.
Be it as it was, it wasn’t enough to break a childhood pinky-promise with Toph, as he looked over to her direction, up in the crow’s nest of that dance floor. She looked like a little neon-green princess of the underworld (though he knew better than to call Toph something like ‘princess’) with her head bobbing rhythmically under reflective shades and a glow-in-the-dark and very-expensive-looking badger helmet.
The boy focused his attention on her, in her strange EDM musical element, trying to ignore the little side-eyes and smiles that the clubbers threw over to him when they thought he wasn’t looking. Most people didn’t recognize him (especially above 14th street), and his face was pretty undetectable in the dimness of the nightclub, but the staring was still inevitable.
He could feel the weight of a handful of boys looking over at him from the bar counter, and his brow furrowed.
It was always a good night when people didn’t ask about his scar, or his shoulder-length hair… or ask if he left his samurai katana at home.
(He did, actually, along with his preferred Dao swords.)
“Will it be a third glass for you, Pouty?”
June’s voice rose over the bar counter, and he blinked out of his frown. The boy stared at her, then looked down at his hand and realized he was circling a now-empty wine glass.
“Oh...”
That just proved how out of place he was, here. There must have been over a hundred twenty-somethings at the club, and he was the only one drinking wine.
He gestured an amicable grin to the bartender, “No, thanks. I’m heading out soon.”
The bartender scoffed. “It's early! You sure, kiddo?”
“It’s been a rough week.”
June rolled her eyes as he placed the glass at the bar counter. She turned to close his tab, and the boy reached into his jacket pocket to start texting his driver… and that’s when he noticed the flood of “Unread” text notifications waiting for him on his phone screen.
Mai. 9:00pm ET
Azula. 9:45pm ET
Zhao. 10:00pm ET
Mai. 10:02pm ET
Mai. 10:03pm ET
Mai. 10:04pm ET
Mai. 10:07pm ET
He shut his eyes, swallowing and feeling the bitter aftertaste of red wine in his mouth.
He could wait until morning for whatever Azula wanted, he thought, and Zhao was probably “checking in” on Monday’s PowerPoint presentation, as always.
And Mai? The boy felt his brow furrow between his eyes as he breathed in.
Why would she text on a Saturday morning (her time) when she preferred sleeping in, anyway?
How many times had she reminded him to not text her on Saturdays until mid-afternoon (her time), because otherwise she’d ignore them?
Whatever.
After deciding he would read hers on the drive home, the boy quickly opened a new text box.
[Jee--- Please pick me up at The Shirshu Club in 10min.]
He put his phone back on “vibrate” and back into his jacket, heading over towards the crow’s nest and feeling the bouncing beats of sound hit his chest as he did. He grit his teeth, covering his left ear to ease his mind as he finally made it up to the platform with one of two towering, burly men with crossed arms and blocking the boy’s way to the DJ.
“Passcode?” one of the men asked.
“Hippo—come on.” He scoffed. “It’s me.”
But the bodyguard named Hippo just narrowed his eyes at him.
The boy groaned: “The Blind Bandit is the greatest DJ in the world, and I, a dunderhead, will never forget it.”
With a smirk, Hippo nodded and moved aside before the angry boy could shove him away.
While only being a mere four-foot-ten, Toph’s glowing badger-mole helmet made her look quite tall from the nest, and she was absentmindedly jamming her left fingers and bobbing her head with the crowd below, her right fingers working magic with all of her colorful synthesizers.
Carefully, so as to not startle her, he approached and placed a hand over her right wrist.
“I’m going.”
“What?” Toph shouted over the music, and he recoiled his hand. He frowned.
“I said I’m going.”
“No way—” she kept her eyes forward, a hand moving dismissively. “It’s not even ten-thirty!”
“The place is getting crammed, Bandit. That’s my cue.”
“It is absolutely not, Sparky,” Toph shook her head, not even looking at him anymore as she focused her eyes and fingers on her sound systems and her laptop. “As tonight’s headliner, I demand that you stay until you’ve danced to one of my songs.”
“Forget it," the young man held an incredulous laugh in his throat. "I don't dance. And anyway... I wouldn't exactly call jumping and swaying actual dance steps.”
“Doesn’t matter; Hippo and Boulder better tell me they saw you dancing before clocking out.”
“Okay-" He felt the headache pulsing behind his eyes. "How many times do I need to say ‘I don’t work for you?’”
“Lighten up!" Toph's voice squeaked an octave higher, punching his arm before he would jerk it away. "Could you at least pretend to be social?”
“I don’t need friends," the boy with the scar rubbed his bruising arm, his brow furrowing at Toph. "I have a fiancé—I’m fine."
That was when peered down at the floor, towards the entrance to the club, at the large group of smiling and laughing girls coming in. One of them was sporting a sparkly tiara veil.
“Oh, great," he didn't hide the groan as he spoke. "Now that’s perfect.”
“What is it?" Toph's smile got mischievously wider under her helmet.
“A bachelorette party just showed up.”
“Sweetness!”
His golden-brown eyes peered over and saw the girl with the sparkly tiara point up at the crows’ nest. Instantly, dozens of other eyes were looking at Toph and a dark-looking boy with a scar.
He groaned again, both hands massaging his temples to tame the headache that was very much alive.
“I’m out.”
“Nope!—You’re gonna hear my bachelorette tracks and talk to those girls like the social butterfly-moth you are.”
A full grimace crossed his face, but fully aware she couldn’t tell.
“Why do you keep pushing this on me?"
“It’s called tough love, buddy.” Toph was slurping the last bit of water from her canteen, then shoved it over to his direction. “Now get down there, listen to my tracks and talk to the girls –and bring me a refill before you leave.”
“You keep acting like I work for you,” he shook his head, taking the canteen with a hand.
“Quit being a prude and get down there.” She punched him on the arm for good measure.
“I don’t work for you!” he shouted again as he walked down, a hand to his left ear.
“I know!” she snickered, the two bodyguards following suit as he left.
Any other night, the boy would’ve easily honored Toph’s request, but he just really wanted to leave. He wanted to take this uncomfortably noisy evening, all the staring that people were giving him, and all the demands that Toph was raising at him and just throw it out of existence. He needed as much calm energy as he could muster to get through the multiple Mai texts that were still waiting for him on his phone.
His plan was to sign off on his tab, give June a decent tip for handling these many fans of Toph, ask for a refill on the canteen, go up to the crow’s nest to hand it to her… and be out before Toph could say another word.
The bar had gotten crammed those few minutes, and he waited patiently at the counter to catch June’s eye. He checked his phone to see a response from Jee:
[ Traffic on Broadway, sir—will be there in 25]
And that was when a girl’s hand unceremoniously grazed the boy’s tailored Bonobos burgundy trench coat at the shoulder, moving him instantly into a half-defensive position.
“Heeeey, mister!”
He was too distracted by her shimmering tiara-veil to really pay attention to her crookedly drunk smile and bright brown eyes, but he heard another girl's voice appear behind the tiara.
“Suki!!—no! I swear, if you even try to---”
The other girl’s mane of mocha-brown hair peered behind Suki's disheveled auburn bob, and for a moment, the young man couldn't help but glance at the girl's crescent moons and stars that decorated her blouse. He watched this loyal friend trying to pull Suki's frame away unsuccessfully. The bachelorette's wide smile and almost-too-flirtatious voice continued to speak to him.
“I’m sooo sorry to bother you, buuuut… my maid of honor, here?” Suki immediately placed an entire arm behind her friend for a side hug, bringing her unceremoniously forward and center. “She is reaaaally interested in knowing how you got your scar.”
“I didn’t say that—” her friend held her hands up in slight defense, blue eyes nervously averting from Suki, to him, to Suki again.
“You suuure did, miss Modesty.” Suki’s hand pressed onto his black Hugo Boss buttoned-down shirt flirtatiously. A couple of her fingertips touched an impressively-thin chain of gold, glimmering into existence right below his collar, and yet the man stood his ground like a pillar. “Now, myyyy guess is you’re a firefighter who jumped into a burning building to save a baby. SHE thinks it was---”
“OKAY, Suki!” the maid of honor's right hand promptly went over Suki’s mouth to mumble all of the rest of her words. “Oh, look! Our server’s here.”
She clutched the bride-to-be’s shoulders and positioned her frame towards the direction of the table.
“We should head back—” the friend moved the bride-to-be forward, even as Suki’s eyes remained teasingly towards the boy, “There we go!”
He remained stern as the girls left, but the maid of honor turned her head back to him, theatrically mouthing an “I’m. So. Sorry!” to him, pantomiming shots of liquor for the full effect. The boy said nothing, but he could still feel his heart racing… in spite of all the work he had done throughout his life to remain calm under noise, under pressure. That little comical instance had thrown his mind for a spin, and he felt an inexplicable smirk take shape on his face as June approached him behind the bar counter.
“Refill for Bandit,” he said simply, handing June the canteen as he signed his check.
The boy wasn’t sure what compelled him to glance back over to the bachelorette table, at the large group of girls chatting and laughing as they received water glasses from a server. He saw himself focusing on the maid of honor, noticing the strands of mocha-brown hair that hung near her eyes and looped behind her ears. The rest of her hair was in a half-do, the wavy mane cascading past her shoulders, some of the end curls dangling against the stars and crescent moons of her blouse. He felt his jaw clench, feeling the booming music of the room hit his ears as he looked away momentarily... but then slowly, he felt his eyes returning to look at her smile.
It was a grin, really, but one that seemed to hold an ocean of secrets. One that agreed and went with the flow, only because it needed a break from the attention. The kind of smile the young man knew all too well: the smile of a person who'd been reluctantly conditioned to learn when to speak their mind, and when not to.
He watched her show some teeth in that grin as the other girls chatted away, and she took a sip of her iced-water, not seeming to mind that the bachelorette was playfully leaning against her shoulder like a sloth to a tree.
June must’ve noticed him seeing the table at some point because her voice came up beside him. “Hah—so she finally decided to get hitched. Good for her.”
He turned to the bartender as she filled the canteen from the water spigot.
“You know ‘Suki’?”
“She stops in, now and then. Harmless Broadway folk,” June came back and handed back the canteen. “She comes from a long line of NYPD, but she’s the black sheep dancing in Hamilton.”
“No kidding,” he grabbed the canteen, still glancing over at the group of girls -- but actually at one, in particular. He caught himself thinking about her blue eyes... that sweet, polite smile... “Do you know the maid of honor?”
“Hmm…” June scanned the table again, then gestured with her nose. “That girl? With the wavy hair and starry blouse? Never seen her. Probably from out of town.”
“Perhaps.” He said it dismissively, holding the canteen as he shifted away from the bar counter. His eyes were still lingering towards that table, as if debating something he couldn’t really put into words… and he could feel the frown on his face again. Curiosity was taking over, and he wasn’t used to that at all.
He was never the type to be drawn into a group, but he felt a strange energy, then -- as if gravity were silently pulling him to the direction of that table.
It was probably the way the maid of honor grinned, as she twirled the ice of her water glass with her straw, her hair bouncing off her shoulders as she laughed from something the girls had said. For a fraction of a second, he caught her glancing over to his direction.
And in that distance between the table and the bar… their eyes met.
Deep-sea blue on golden-brown.
Laser lights dancing around them.
And in the next moment, her eyes turned away, her smile widening at the table.
The boy promptly looked elsewhere, too, his face flushed with nerves that absolutely did not need to be there. This was all becoming very intimidating. This place was a raucous, crowded mess, and now a bachelorette party was most likely talking about his scar, as if he were an object of sheer delight or amusement. He had to leave. He had to leave now.
He kept his frown to the canteen in his hand, and was about to reach into his pocket for his phone when--
“You know, Pouty,” June’s voice caught his ear again and he turned. “It ain't gonna kill ya to walk over there and talk.”
How dare you, was his first thought, but with a sarcastic sneer.
June practically watched him grow up like an honorary step-aunt. She was there in the seats cheering for him along with Uncle and Lu Ten when he walked across the graduation platform at West Point. Hearing the nickname was bad enough, but she still had the audacity to try and put this young man in his place, after all those years.
“I’m not in the mood,” he confessed sheepishly, “And I don’t want to kill theirs.”
“Look—personally, I don’t care—” June poured a line of tequila shots with one hand and shaking a martini with the other, “but you’ll be outta here next Spring, and there’s nothing waiting for you at home but a shit-ton of work emails and some sad succulents. Seize the moment, or whatever.”
Her thick eyeliner matched his stare, and the boy just shook his head, chuckling.
“I swear—you and Bandit are onto me.”
June smirked as he glanced back at the table, seeing the girls chatter with so many smiles, and laughter… things that he’d seen practically as a foreign concept lately. If they were talking about his scar, perhaps it would be funny to see how people would suddenly react to his presence, looming over them with that dark, silent, contemporary samurai energy he always brought to a room.
His stern face remained, gripping Toph’s canteen with a hand as he breathed, feeling the noise of the electronic beats and the bouncing crowd gradually fade away.
“Will you hold the canteen for a second?” he asked June, taking out and placing a five-dollar bill over his receipt. “I’ll take another ice water.”
“Coming right up,” June smirked, bringing the canteen back over to her side of the bar.
Once he got his glass, he noticed most of the girls from that table were escorting the bachelorette to the dance floor. They were already throwing fists at the new song being introduced.
Only the maid of honor and another girl with light brown hair remained, guarding the belongings… and so the young man braced himself, because he never did this.
He never, ever, ever did this.
…but he wanted to look like he did.
***
She didn’t want to be here.
But when Suki found out an hour ago that The Blind Bandit was playing a one-night raver at this club in Midtown, the bride-to-be insisted they make a quick detour on the bachelorette party’s itinerary to catch some of her music.
And the maid of honor grunted, because it was past 10pm and Suki was already two tequila shots over her limit (according to Sokka, and his history of handling his fiance’s light-weight self)… but still, here they all were… and of course, the maid of honor would continue to foot their bill.
"Water," she announced to the seating hostess before the bride-to-be could say a thing. "We will ONLY take water, and a food menu."
When Suki pointed everyone up to the crow’s nest, the girl thought she was looking at what must’ve been the famous Blind Bandit and the tall, stern-looking figure of her body guard.
It was Suki who had brought up the scar on the man’s face, Suki who started talking non-stop about how dark and handsome he looked with that lush black shoulder-length hair and permanent-looking frown.
And the girl would’ve laughed any other time… had this dark-looking young man not had a scar dressing most of the left side of his face, or a frown that said he could breathe fire.
She had already kept Suki from getting herself arrested by flirting with a young cop (who thankfully didn’t know either of Suki’s parents)… managed to get the whole group to take a picture with some drag queens strutting their stuff along the lower-east side.. and managed to pull Suki off of a dancing-pole that she was hogging for much too long at the nightclub just two blocks down.
And now, they were here, at the Shirshu Club.
The maid-of-honor was exhausted, and thankfully, Yue had volunteered to “tag-team” with handling Suki’s over-the-top antics for the rest of the night with her theatre friends.
It was no surprise that Suki asked for the entire weekend off of performances for this night. The poor girl hadn’t been able to let loose on a Friday night since she booked Hamilton a year ago. But that didn’t excuse that sweat-induced embarrassment in front of the Blind Bandit’s bodyguard as he was minding his own business at the bar counter.
The girl had praised her lucky stars that Suki was ready to hit the dancefloor and sweat the alcohol out by the time they all ordered food. She just wanted a break. She just wanted to talk to Yue and share some of the most memorable instances of the night so far, and decide which ones to keep from Sokka until after the wedding.
And when she had momentarily turned to glance at that bodyguard, perhaps wondering if this man saw her table as the seventh circle of Hell… she hadn’t expected him to meet her eyes.
His strict frown was clear, even from the flashing lights, and the hint of gold that came from his eyes was… strange. Foreign. Distant. And the girl felt that if she didn’t turn back to smile to the group, she’d forget how to do so.
She vowed to never glimpse at that bodyguard's direction again.
Which was why… when he gracefully began to walk toward her and Yue at the table… the girl felt her body stiffen, holding the straw to her water glass closely as she once again noticed his dark clothes, his thin golden chain at the collar, his stern face, his high cheekbones, his shoulder-length tied-back hair.
His scar.
He wasn’t tall for a bodyguard (or a man, really), but the straight posture and the stoic look on his face made him feel towering. The girl took a breath as he approached, mentally gathering a more elaborate apology on behalf of Suki.
It wasn't until he had finally made it to the table that she noticed a smile.
A grin, really. A small one. Just a curve at the corners of his lips that tilted upwards to point at his eyes. His almond-shaped, golden-brown eyes that – along with his high cheekbones and prominent chin - brought a handsomeness to his face, despite the scar that marked his left side. And she felt a grin crossing her own face as he set his glass of water at the table, an arm’s length adjacent to her and Yue.
She absentmindedly tugged at some of her hair, immediately side-glancing at Yue across the table. Yue looked just as puzzled as she was, quietly sipping at her water as the boy only focused on one of them.
“I’m still curious about your answer.”
His voice came out raspy, but smooth. It reminded her of very fine sand, and she hadn’t expected that at all.
In those few minutes, she had managed to assume the bodyguard’s voice as more thunderous - like a bellow from deep in the gut - but it wasn’t. This voice was pooled from the chest, performed at the throat. Heavy, yet diaphanous.
“Wh--What?” she furrowed her brow, leaning closer to hear him better.
“You were guessing about how I got my scar?” He leaned in closer as well, speaking over the loud music.
She blinked.
“Oooh! Hah—” she laughed embarrassed, blushing as she looked at Yue again and gathered her thoughts. His face didn't look at all amused, but there wasn’t a coldness about him, either. He wasn’t as intimidating as she thought he would be in those outrageously-expensive-looking designer clothes and that runway-worthy posture.
Yue just shrugged, smiling at her friend to just be honest. Let it all out.
So she did.
“Okay—” the girl turned her head back to him. “It’s really dumb… but… You’re a pyrotechnics acrobat who was juggling flaming swords, and you stumbled and caught the sword’s hilt with your hand. Sure, you saved your hand from getting cut and burnt, but for the first time in your entire acrobatics career… you caught the sword wrong.”
She could feel her face’s elasticity as she explained herself, and her hands decided to do a lot of the explaining along with her. Whenever she got this passionate about something, her body just tended to go into a “performance” mode. The girl returned her arms to the table, hands holding her glass… somewhat embarrassed about all the moving she did.
His stern face remained, like granite. He stood there, frowning and silent, even his eyes not blinking for a long second.
The girl was about to reiterate how dumb it was, but then he spoke.
“That’s correct.”
She winced. She could feel her blue eyes practically bulging out of her.
“Really?”
“No.”
She blinked, staring at him incredulously, and that's when the boy’s expression softened.
It was Yue’s gasp and giggle in the background that made her understand what had just occurred.
“Wha--Hey!!!” She exclaimed out of the awkwardness, and she laughed musically in front of this strange young man with a scar. It was faint, but she heard a small chuckle from his throat, his shoulders relaxing onto the table.
“Okay… well, was I close?” she couldn’t help but follow up.
“It was a motorcycle accident. The engine caught fire and it brushed my face before I got off,” he explained with a slight shrug afterwards. “Not very original or heroic, in the end. I think I would’ve preferred your story.”
The way he gestured made him look a lot younger than what she had initially assumed, and it made his voice sound younger, too. This bodyguard must’ve been around her age.
He took a sip of his drink, quietly, and Katara glanced at his scar as he did.
“The scar looks like it mended okay,” she narrowed her eyes to it. “Did this happen a while ago?”
“Yeah. I was… sixteen...” his posture stiffened as she got closer to his scar, and Katara took the hint, backing away. “So, ten years ago now. I barely feel it.”
She nodded.
“Do your tear ducts still work?” she asked. “How’s your eye sight?”
“Katara, you shouldn’t probe people like that!” Yue jumped in, and it made her blink.
“Sorry---I just---” Katara looked away, feeling a blush forming in front of the man, but when she looked back at him, he smiled. Fully smiled. It wasn’t just a secretive grin anymore.
“It’s okay,” he shook his head, as if saying no harm with curiosity. “Tear ducts work fine—my eyesight was saved, but bright lights can give me migraines, so I sometimes wear special contacts. The big thing was my hearing—I lost a good part of it on this side.”
He tilted his head to the left, to indicate his ear.
“I’m sorry,” Katara heard herself say a second time. “Do you use a hearing aid?”
“Not anymore— I did, the first few years, but I’ve been able to adjust without one.”
She nodded, pleased with that reply as she took a sip of her drink.
He narrowed his eyes to her. “Are you a doctor?”
Katara smiled. “I’m a med student, at NYU. Just about to finish my first year.”
“Oh, I see!” and the boy nodded respectfully.
“Yep!” Katara gestured over to her mousy friend across from her. “This is Yue, by the way.”
Yue blushed and waved a hand.
“Are you a student as well?” he asked.
“Oh, no—” the girl with light brown hair shrugged shyly at him. “I’m a cellist at the New York Philharmonic.”
Katara noticed the stunned look the young man gave to Yue, clearly impressed. “Really? That’s incredible--you seem so young.”
“Right?” Katara nodded in agreement, and it made Yue slouch bashfully.
“Thanks,” Yue replied in her sweet, sincere voice, “but I’m still an apprentice, really.”
“Don’t listen to her—” Katara immediately mumbled to the Blind Bandit’s bodyguard, “This girl is a Juilliard grad! Practically top of her class!”
And the boy just grinned, raising his glass to Yue in respect.
“Okay- thank you,” Yue couldn’t help but giggle from the gratitude. “But honestly… I haven’t had the chance to perform too much! Right now, I’m mostly a private music instructor.”
“Well—congratulations to you both,” the raspy voice raised his glass over to Katara as well. “Those are some amazing accomplishments."
“Thanks— Oh! I’m Katara by the way,” she smiled and brought a hand out to him, forgetting that Yue had already brought up her name in conversation. “And you are?”
“Zuko.”
He took her hand, and as they shook, it was hard to deny that warmth that took over for a moment, because their grins had widened simultaneously.
“Lovely to meet you, Zuko!” Yue’s angelic voice cut in, and they both looked over to her direction, withdrawing their hands as they did.
“You as well,” Zuko brought his hand to Yue, and they shook courteously. Amicably.
When they parted, Katara could only look at the neon lights flying over the ceiling… and she felt Zuko’s eyes on her again. She casually moved a hair loop away from her cheeks, the smile from their handshake still printed on her face.
Suddenly, Yue’s phone rang with a sound of a string concerto, and Zuko eyed over to it-- as if recognizing the tune—and Yue picked it up from the table to glance at the screen.
“Katara, it’s my father,” she mumbled, and the maid of honor nodded reassuringly.
“No problem! I’ll watch our stuff.”
Yue stepped away from the table towards the entrance, leaving Katara alone with the Blind Bandit’s bodyguard named Zuko. For a couple of seconds things were quiet, Zuko’s weight shifting on the table, and she boldly broke the ice again.
“By the way—Yue? She thought it was a childhood accident with a blowtorch,” and that brought another chuckle out of the young man’s face. “But you didn’t hear that from me.”
“Hear what?” he stared at her sternly.
His dedication to that seriousness only brought a laugh out of Katara, and they stood there quietly to take in another few seconds of The Blind Bandit’s beats.
Zuko cleared his throat. “Is everything okay with Yue?”
Katara eyed back to him, “Yeah—her dad just worries about her. She’s the only child, and well… hah. Parents are like that sometimes.”
There was an exaggerated, almost musical tone to the way she said that last line, and Katara mentally kicked herself for it. She didn’t want to be that transparent on a Friday night, in front of people her age… and she hoped that this Zuko person wasn’t the type to pry. Thankfully, he left it alone.
It made her feel comfortable enough to keep talking.
“Yue actually takes care of her dad more than the other way around. She’s one of my closest friends and she’s always been into music. She mentors young musicians and performs at nursing homes. She’s so smart, too – I keep telling her she can be a composer, or an orchestra director someday, if she wants to.”
“That’s really great of her,” Zuko rasped, letting the music cloud their ears for a few more seconds as Katara took another drink. “What about you?”
“Me?”
“Yes. I mean--” he looked away to gather his words, “I know you’re studying medicine, but what kind of medicine are you interested in?”
“Oh!” and that was a question Katara had no problem answering. “Nephrology.”
Zuko squinted his eyes, leaning closer to her. “Neurology?”
Katara shook her head with a chuckle. “Nephrology, for the kidney!”
He looked at her oddly for a moment, bashfully chuckling himself.
“Ah—sorry.” He furrowed his eyebrows after a second of thought. “Wait—why the kidney?”
“Sir, I am so glad you asked,” she said theatrically, and the girl took a sip of water, as if clearing her throat and preparing herself for a speech, “because the kidney is actually the unsung hero of human organs. It doesn’t get as much love as, say, the brain, or the heart… but the kidneys are powerful and delicate systems that help remove wastes from our body and keep us healthy all throughout our lives.”’
Zuko raised his one brow oddly at her with fascination, his smile turning crooked. “I… had no idea.”
“Not many people do, unfortunately,” Katara took another sip of her water, “and the sad thing is that many underserved communities get hit hard with kidney-related issues. My mom was a dialysis nurse for years, so I kind of grew up seeing the problem first-hand. People just aren’t aware of the importance of kidney health, so… I want to help bring attention to it. I want to help people deal with kidney issues and educate young people so they can prevent kidney-related issues later in life.”
The boy stood there quietly, simply nodding, and she saw that crooked smile fade into a little grin.
Every time she talked about this with people, Katara knew she sounded like an elementary-schooler talking about her dream job, and she truly did not care. It came to her as easily as breathing, as talking.
She was actually impressed that Zuko wasn’t shaking his head in disbelief from all of that energy and passion he had just witnessed from a petite girl with big, wavy hair.
He took a small sip of his water before speaking.
“And what can a person like me do to prevent kidney-related issues?”
Katara blinked, but smirked proudly.
“Well… everyone is different, so consult your doctor – I need to make that disclaimer – but... drink lots of water every day, watch the refined sugar, and limit the over-the-counter meds. That should save you from most kidney-related problems. But again… consult your doctor.”
Zuko chuckled. “I shall make note of that.”
She smiled and grabbed her water for another quick sip. It was then that Katara noticed the little gilded thread of a chain again, how it hung neatly below the collar of Zuko's shirt, and, looking at it more closely... she could see there was a tiny charm: a golden sun dangling from it. The charm was no bigger than a grain of rice, but she couldn't help but admire it.
“What do you do, if you don’t mind me asking?" she then said, curiously. "Do you work for The Blind Bandit?”
“Oh--not at all," his face scrunched up in slight disgust as he turned to her, and she could tell he was joking. "I’m a financial analyst for AgniKai Corporations.”
It didn’t come with the same enthusiasm that she had about kidneys, but Katara smiled nonetheless.
“Interesting! I know the name—the building is just a couple of blocks from the med school campus. Didn’t they just remodel it with some Mother-of-Pearl tinted windows?”
Zuko chuckled, “that’s right.”
“It’s pretty, but it hurts my eyes.”
“Trust me—I wear my contacts to work every single day.”
Katara laughed at that, sipping her water. “My boyfriend was offered a job there, actually... but he took a service assignment with the Peace Corps instead.”
Zuko hummed with a simple 'I see,' and Katara noticed his shoulders relaxing more as he took a sip of his water. She continued talking before she could think more of that.
“He’ll be finishing up next summer, so maybe you guys might work together.”
“Maybe,” Zuko’s voice trailed off. “What does he do for the Peace Corps? Where is his service?”
“He’s in southern China, helping to restructure some of the farming communities into the twenty-first century for long-term agricultural benefits,” Katara smiled as she looked away to take in a new song from The Blind Bandit. “I’ll be visiting him this summer, actually!”
“That’s exciting; have you ever been to China?"
"Never! It'll be my first time going to that side of the world."
"How’s your Mandarin?”
“Hah-- nonexistent,” it brought another chuckle from Zuko, and that delighted her. “The funny thing is that he studied it all through business school, but then found out the villages speak Cantonese. So, I’m sure it was a struggle.”
“I’m sure he’s getting by alright,” he said simply, and it sounded as if he were about to say something else.. but a new song suddenly started playing in the room.
Katara knew this song -- she'd grown up listening to Enrique Iglesias, and she loved watching Suki and the girls waving their arms and bouncing to The Blind Bandit's unique beat to it -- but she had to admit: watching Zuko's voice trail off and his face frown something deadly was not what she expected. The young man's eyes were scowling straight up to The Blind Bandit at the crow’s nest, and her own eyes followed.
It was hard to fully read from the dim lights and the distance, but Katara could see a smirk coming from the little DJ with the glowing badger-mole helmet, her bodyguards doing nothing to hide their laughter at either side of their boss.
"Do you have something against Enrique Iglesias?"
Her eyes narrowed as the lyrics Here's the situation... Been to every nation... echoing alongside the moving laser lights in the club.
"No, it's not-- it's nothing." Zuko raspy voice was severe and livid, but the blush on his cheeks lingered as he turned back to Katara. He raised his voice, trying to out-do the loud music and the lyrics. “Anyway, I meant to say that I grew up with Mandarin, and was able to learn Cantonese in school... but lately, I've been picking up Japanese for my fiancé.”
Katara hummed at the mention of 'fiancé', feeling her own shoulders relax.
“Nice-- and congratulations!” she exclaimed. It was comforting to hear him say 'thanks' despite the stern look still on his face. Katara didn't think much of it. “I stuck with Spanish all through high school and college, but it’s been put to good use with the patient community in Queens.”
“That's wonderful-- I never really had to learn Spanish, but it sounds nice.” Zuko finally softened his face again, his blush disappearing. "Do you volunteer in Queens?
“Yeah, but my family lives there, too--- Jackson Heights.”
Katara stirred the ice with her straw, wondering if he knew that neighborhood. She could easily tell with his averting eyes and nervous grin that he didn’t.
“I must say, I... don’t get out to Queens too often.”
“I won’t hold it against you,” she smirked. “What neighborhood do you live in?”
“I’m on the East Side.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Upper East Side?”
And the young man slouched, dramatically… his straight posture completely melting as he clutched his waterglass and hid his face from her for a second. Katara chuckled at that.
“I suppose,” he mumbled sheepishly at her.
“Look at you, mister Financial Analyst,” she couldn’t help but tease, and Zuko shook his head modestly. “You’re moving up in the world!”
"You're too kind," was all he said, and they exchanged a sweet look just before turning their gaze back to the dance floor.
The boy still had a stiff, edgy complexion that made him stand out in that colorful nightclub space, with his golden-brown eyes, that maroon-tinted scar, the curtain-sleek hair falling to his shoulders like a dark vigilante… but Katara had to admit… there was a softness to him. A sincerity to his raspy voice. A warmth from his light chuckles that seemed to radiate even as the space would turn quiet.
She wasn’t intimidated by him at all.
They sat for a few seconds in that space, sipping the last bit of their drinks.
Yue had returned to the table, then… her eyes stopping immediately at Zuko, as if surprised he was still there. She grabbed her water shyly for a sip.
It was hard to tell if Zuko was about to make his exit, but his shoulders were shifting back to their straight posture, and Katara looked over at him, straightening herself.
And then Yue spoke up.
“Are you a fan of The Blind Bandit?”
Zuko and Katara flinched simultaneously back to her. The boy nervously smiled, putting a hand to his neck.
“Well—I’m not that well-versed in EDM, but she and I grew up together.”
“Wait, are you serious?” Katara jumped in, unable to tone down the excitement in her. “That’s awesome! I have to tell Suki that. She and my brother love her!”
“Suki’s the bride-to-be, I’m assuming?” the boy noted.
“Yep— they both met at an EDM summer festival, and The Blind Bandit was one of the openers! It’s great that her career has taken off since then.”
“Yeah, it’s incredible,” Zuko agreed with a smile. “She landed a deal with Varrick Records a couple of years ago, but I still help her with PR for the smaller venues. She just finished her East Asia tour last week, and this is her month-long break before her leg goes through Europe. She’s not the type to sit still for too long, so in the downtime, she plays clubs around here.”
“Does she do weddings?” Yue blurted out instantly, and Zuko blinked at her.
“Yue—who’s being rude now?” Katara blushed, crossing her arms uncomfortably.
“I just thought it was worth asking,” Yue explained, “You know—for Sokka and Suki?”
Zuko snickered at that. “She hasn’t done one in a while, but I can ask her. When is the wedding?”
“May 7th,” Yue said promptly, but Katara rose her brows at Zuko.
“Wait, really? No—that’s nice of you, but it’s not—you don’t have to do that,” Katara’s eyes shifted over to Yue. “They already booked a DJ.”
“Maybe we could do a surprise music set? Or a post-reception midnight bash? I think they would love that!” Yue exclaimed with glimmering blue eyes.
Katara said nothing, just looking at Yue’s sweet sense of determination with all of this, unable to refute. All she could do was look back over to Zuko, whose eyes brought a warm welcome.
“Well, as the maid of honor, I think it’s your call…” he rasped, “...but I’d be happy to ask The Blind Bandit.”
It was then that Katara noticed at the corner of her eye that their server was coming with the large tray of appetizers that they’d ordered for the table… and she turned to see Suki and the girls were making their way out of the crowded dancefloor at the first sign of food. She noticed Zuko’s form straightening once again, knowing that this would be his cue to leave.
“Anyway, I’ll be at the bar for a few more minutes, in case you change your mind about it. It was nice talking to you both.” Zuko brought a hand out to Yue and they shook from across the table. As he went to shake Katara’s hand he said, “Give my best wishes to Suki.”
The softness of his face and the warmth of his hands made her smile, and as she nodded with an 'of course!', Katara noticed his tiny twitch of a grin, the gold of his eyes gleaming.
Almost too quickly, Zuko parted their hands, took his empty water glass and turned back towards the bar, his dark hair billowing like a cape from his shoulders.
Katara and Yue exchanged glances and smiles just as the party returned to the table with a very drunk Suki looking famished and smitten at the server while he handed over plates of chicken wings, mozzarella sticks, flatbread pizza and nachos. As the group started chowing down and chatting about the music and the dancing, Katara heard a familiar high-pitched voice of “Sorry! Sorry! I’m here!” and glanced over at the entrance with a smile.
“Ty Leeee!” Suki whipped her head around and moved her veil away from her face, half-a-mozzarella stick in her mouth. “You maaaade it!”
The latecomer was wearing a high-top braid and a fancy three-piece suit with a pink button-down shirt, immediately dropping her Gucci designer bag on the table to give Suki a big bear clutch of a hug. “I was literally down to the wire—I didn’t have time to change my clothes!”
“It’s okay,” Katara planted a hand to her shoulder, “You made it just in time for a snack!”
“By the way--- how was the guy with the scar?” one of the girls asked Katara as her hand went for a slice of the flatbread, “I saw you and Yue talking to him a few minutes ago!”
“WHAT?” Suki glanced from Ty Lee over to Katara. “No waaaay. He was here!?”
Katara and Yue exchanged a look from across the table, and the two of them giggled it off.
“Oh—yeah—he was here! He was actually a nice guy! His name is Zuko… he’s a financial analyst for AgniKai.”
That’s when Ty Lee perked her head up from the mozzarella sticks, looking around to see what face they may have been referring to. Through the dark shadowy corners of the space and the web of laser lights, Ty Lee spotted a man with shoulder-length hair and a scar on his face… and when Katara glanced over at Ty Lee, she knew she recognized him.
It was the only explanation as to why Ty Lee’s already-perturbed eyes were popping out more than usual.
“Katara…” her bubbly voice came out like a harsh whisper. “Is that the guy you were talking to?”
The maid of honor looked over at Zuko standing at the bar, picking up a green canteen bottle from a bartender with a stern look on his face.
“Yeah, that’s him,” but Katara was beginning to worry about Ty Lee’s face that was suddenly draining of color. “Ty Lee, are you… okay?”
All the girls seemed to be intrigued by the girl’s look of shock as she turned to Katara.
“Katara-- that's Zuko Kai!”
Nobody said anything. From the girl’s breathless voice, it sounded like she had just seen a Korean pop star, but… as an editorial assistant for The Economist… this seemed like it would be a different level of celebrity. So she spoke further, in intense whispers.
“He is the great-grandson of Sozin Kai—the founder of the biggest manufacturer and distributer of tea in the world! Zuko’s an heir to that multibillion dollar empire.”
There was a rush of gasps that passed through that small circle of girls on the table, and Katara remained silent, taking in Ty Lee’s every word.
“Katara, you just spoke with the Honorable Prince of Tea!”
While there was another rush of giggles, whispers of excitement and gleeful noises coming within that table, Katara could only look at Ty Lee and then over at Yue, who stared just as dumbfounded back at her. Together, the three of them looked back to the “prince” as he brought a green canteen bottle up the steps to the crow’s nest, passing the bulky bodyguard and handing the bottle gently to the DJ’s hands, exchanging a few inaudible words amicably with her before she laughed and shooed him away with a smile.
Katara still couldn’t stomach it, and her heart was beating so fast. As much as she didn’t know about the current global business of tea, or the distribution of it, she was lost for words.
Yue, however, was full of excitement in her eyes and she went over to Katara’s side of the table, nudging her by the arm and saying “He’s so cute, Katara! An heir! Can you believe it?”
“Y-Yeah---” her voice lowered by a whole octave. “It’s incredible.”
She felt like an idiot as she retraced all of the words… all of the laughter and snarky comments she had made with him throughout their little talk… trying to remember if she had caught any sign of stuck-up entitlement, of regality in him. Was it the posture? No-- Suki had amazing posture from dancing. Katara racked her brain for any sign, but couldn’t find one.
Even with his nice clothes and his offbeat, vigilante demeanor, there was something about his soft, relaxed presence that made Zuko seem so… ordinary.
But he wasn’t.
And here she was…in a crowded club in Midtown on a Friday night, talking to him about her life in Queens and learning Spanish and all of her silly post-med-school dreams.
She saw Zuko heading back to the bar to briefly chat with the red-lipsticked bartender, giving each other a high-five across the counter… and Katara knew he would be heading out soon.
“I’ll be right back—could you watch Suki for me?” she mumbled to Yue.
Katara made her way to the bar with her empty glass, trying to move her way towards Zuko’s corner of it. She could feel her heart pounding harshly against her chest, and she had no doubt as to why.
She could practically see the smugness in their faces all over again.
She could hear the screeching of their Porches and BMWs as they arrived to their designated parking spots on-campus. She could smell the Chanel as they walked past her in the school hallways, the non-imitation Prada and Louis Vuitton handbags bumping her very-much-imitation Michael Kors bag as they waited in line for the salad bar in the cafeteria.
She remembered the nervous look on Sokka’s face when, at fifteen, he bravely approached the beautiful, tall and thin sixteen-year-old goddess that was Marta Vennuta at their magnet school in the Upper West Side, inviting her to see the Impressionist exhibition at the Met. She was the daughter of a Brazilian soap opera star and a business tycoon… and she took one look at what he wore, as if smelling the bargain-brands, turning Sokka away without so much as a second glance.
(Of course, this was before Suki, but Katara vividly remembered Sokka’s ambition running tenfold after that moment… wanting to be a successful engineer and start-up founder… and strongly, a casual collector of Impressionist art.)
She frowned in this web of unpleasant memories… something she was more than happy to dismiss from her high school, college and now med-school years… and she felt a bitter taste in her mouth from them.
But Zuko?
He seemed humble. And awkward. And easygoing. A man with perfect posture, yet no real air of snobbishness about him. And yet—he was an heir. Not just a rich kid, but the elite, royal circle of rich kids.
Her stomach hardened as the news kept crossing her mind.
Katara took a breath as she boldly met him at the bar, placing her glass and a few dollar bills squarely to the counter for the bartender to see.
“I’ll take a refill, please,” her voice was firm, even then.
The bartender with the lipstick glanced at the girl with “of course!” as she grabbed the waterglass. Katara noted the bartender’s quick side-eye at Zuko as she turned, as if telling the boy that his full attention was now to be on this blue-eyed girl. As if to say, ‘good luck with that.’
Zuko glanced at Katara with a smile, but when her posture suddenly matched his... it was like he knew.
And she knew that he knew.
And the boy’s smile faded into an uncomfortable flatness.
Slowly, Katara took a breath and spoke up.
“So, Zuko…” she narrowed her eyes to him, “… or should I say, Prince Zuko?”
He stared at her for a long second, then looked away in slight chagrin, straightening up before meeting her eyes again.
It was only when Katara smiled that he couldn’t help but grin himself.
“I guess my secret is out,” he declared in a flat rasp, crossing his arms awkwardly in front of her.
Katara shook her head in disbelief.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
He made a sarcastic ‘heh’ sound that she definitely was not expecting.
“You’re saying that little factor wouldn’t have changed the way you spoke to me?” Zuko rasped. “You wouldn’t have stood up a bit straighter?”
The affluent smugness in his voice was there, now, and that edge of mockery reminded her too much of her brother. It made Katara instantly frown.
“Okay—that’s a bit presumptuous of you,” she scoffed, but his eyes stayed on her silently, and she sighed, looking away. “But… you’re probably not wrong.”
There was an uncomfortably long pause, and Zuko’s eyes softened and fell.
“I’m sorry I didn’t mention it.” When her blue eyes returned to his face, the gold of his eyes were glistening. “I liked talking to you, and I didn’t want that part of me hovering over the table.”
She stared at him, his arms still crossed and the neon lights giving the scarred side of his face a shadowy affect. Zuko didn’t move, but his expression reminded her of a giant sea turtle quietly debating whether or not to submerge for an indefinite amount of time.
It was strange, trying to merge what seemed like two very different people, but Katara finally let out a breath through her nose, softening her own face.
“It’s okay… I get it.” Katara managed another grin. “It must be tough trying to be normal, when you’re born into a -- special -- kind of lifestyle.”
“You can call it what it is,” he retorted, as if throwing a challenge. “I won’t be offended.”
Katara chuckled, leaning an elbow against the counter as if to accept that challenge.
“Alright then--- Wealthy. Privileged. Rich. Crazy Rich." Her hands theatrically gestured as she spoke. "Um… Scrooge McDuck swimming in an Olympic pool of gold coins.”
The last one brought a chuckle from him.
“All of the above,” he rasped.
Katara looked away in amusement, feeling her shoulders easily relax again after that little banter. That odd stiffness in her stomach had long left her.
“I’m curious… do people stop you on the street, or ask you for a picture?”
“Not as often as you’d imagine; not like in East Asia. I’ve had… I guess eventful?... moments in the Financial District, so I try not to draw attention if possible,” Zuko nodded over to the bartender as she returned Katara’s water glass, shifting his weight away from the counter to get ready to leave.
“Well,” Katara grabbed her water. “Long hair, stern face and scar aside… you blended in really well here.”
Zuko made a short laugh, small lines appearing in the corner of his almond eyes. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You don’t have an entourage here, do you?” Katara looked around.
“Trust me,” Zuko shook his head. “I can handle myself.”
She laughed, letting a few seconds pass as they smiled at each other.
“Anyway, I thought about your offer, and… I think Suki and Sokka would love to have The Blind Bandit play at their wedding, if she can make it.”
Zuko nodded easily. “I’m sure she‘d enjoy playing for some of her biggest fans.”
Katara turned her eyes to the Blind Bandit way up in the crow’s nest, smiling cordially to her despite the distance. Zuko could only follow her gaze.
“So how should we do this?” she turned her eyes back to Zuko. “Can she reach out to me by email?”
“Actually—” his eyes returned to her, “I would reach out. I help with her PR, remember?”
Katara blushed. “Ah—Right. Well, maybe we can exchange email addresses? Or phone numbers… what do you prefer?”
“Do you have a card?” he rasped.
She blinked.
“I do!” her voice came a bit too excitedly, setting her glass back on the counter, reaching into her back pocket for her phone. She took a card out from one of the pouches of her phone case. “My brother hounded me about getting them for med school… here you go!”
Zuko took the card, quickly admiring the NYU logo before looking at her again.
“It’s my school email,” she explained. “It’s the first thing I check in the morning.”
The prince just nodded. “Here—I can give you mine, in case you need to reach me last-minute.”
He reached into his back pocket, taking out a smooth card tinted with a red dragon spiraling around a teacup -- the AgniKai logo -- gently handing it to Katara. The girl read through it briefly, almost thinking that it would say “honorable prince of tea” next to his name, but it just said “senior financial analyst.” Plain and simple.
And Katara laughed her open, musical laugh without restraint.
“What’s so funny?” Zuko rose his brow.
“Nothing! You’re just… so normal… with a normal business card.”
There was such a wide smile on her face, Zuko must’ve been so confused, but Katara didn’t care. He grinned a bit, lowering his head at her in disbelief.
“You thought it would be made of gold, or something?”
“Kind of! Or a 3D hologram with your royal princely portrait.”
And Zuko chuckled again, the loudest she had heard him all night. “Sorry to disappoint.”
“No worries—it’s still cool,” Katara shrugged, sliding the card into one of her phone case pouches. “Anyway, it was nice talking to you, Zuko!”
She extended another hand, and he took it. Even preparing herself for that warmth of his hand did nothing to prevent a grin on her face.
“It was nice talking to you, too," he said as they shook. "I’ll email you on Monday.”
“Great!” she said as their hands parted. “And who knows? Maybe we’ll bump into each other again, sometime.”
“I will look forward to that.”
He didn’t say it ironically or dismissively, like the way people made false promises just to brush off a conversation. He didn’t even say it with that hint of sly expectation she always heard from other young Scrooge McDuck-ers, the ones who made her feel like some peasant girl desperate be rescued from destitution.
No. This was a more… genuine tone.
Even in the dim, flashing-colored lights of the Shirshu Club, Katara could see the smile forming at the corners of his mouth. It felt so comforting. Sweet. Hopeful.
Katara’s heart started to beat rapidly again, her throat feeling dry as she grabbed her water.
She breathed, taking a second to plan her next few words properly in her head despite The Blind Bandit’s sound beats that thundered her ears, because Katara never did this.
She never, ever, ever, ever did this.
…but she wanted to look like she did.
“Hey—so---”
Katara held the waterglass close to her frame as his golden-brown eyes stayed on her.
“—would you be up for grabbing lunch sometime, during the week?”
Zuko blinked, the glimmering of his eyes fading, his barely-there grin disappearing completely.
Confused.
Katara suddenly felt her throat getting warm and she swallowed, hearing the words repeat themselves in her mind, making her sound more and more like an idiot. Like she had said the wrong thing.
She quickly cleared her throat.
“I mean--our office buildings are so close—we might as well just plan something, you know? Not leave it all to fate, like in the movies?”
Zuko’s face was completely unreadable with this request, and Katara patiently sipped some of her water to ease her nerves in those milliseconds that passed.
“I don’t really watch movies…” he finally rasped, eyes relaxing to her, “… but lunch would be nice. What’s the best day for you?”
Katara's eyes gleamed.
“Thursdays,” she said promptly. “I usually break for lunch at 1:30.”
“That’s a late lunch for me, but I’ll make it work,” Zuko nodded. “This coming Thursday, then?”
“That works!” she looked away briefly to visualize a map of her campus. “Let’s meet in front of the Med School, on the entrance at 33rd.”
Zuko nodded again, his frown saying he was mentally jotting down down every word. “Lunch, Thursday at 1:30, entrance at 33rd.”
They exchanged grins, then, letting the music and lights surround them for another second.
“Anyway, I better head back before all the food is gone,” she shifted her frame towards the table, casually waving a hand to him. “I’ll see you soon!”
“Have a good night, Katara.” Zuko smiled. “Have fun.”
She didn’t know when it happened, but her racing heart had faded back to a normal pace somewhere within their short conversation, and she sipped her water with ease as she walked back to the table.
Of course, the girls flocked around her for information, but Katara remained minimal with her answers: Yes, it’s him. Yes, it’s definitely him. It was a motorcycle accident—nothing too crazy. Suki, come on--I have a boyfriend!--Plus, he's engaged! Ugh-- you're drunk-- Anyway, he's not my type.
For the sake of causing even more of an unnecessary stir, Katara refused to share about possibly landing The Blind Bandit as guest DJ for the wedding, that she had exchanged cards with this Honorable Prince of Tea, or the fact that they had a lunch planned for Thursday.
At some point during the table chatter, Katara caught Zuko’s stern face one last time as he headed out of the club, and he waved a quick hand back to her. She could feel the smile on her face as they exchanged distant glances one final time.
Katara knew the night was far from over for her, so she took out her phone again to put Zuko’s business card safely away in her purse pocket.
Much safer there, she thought. She knew she wouldn’t lose the card then.
**Art preview for an upcoming chapter below!**
(artwork by Lampurpleart on Tumblr)
