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“Mostly it is loss which teaches us about the worth of things.”
- Arthur Schopenhauer
Kiyi had no idea what time it was when her eyes fluttered open, only that her mouth was parched and the night was still hanging over the sleeping land. She sat up, weighing whether or not to act on this sudden need for water. The kitchen was the only place she could find a drink...yet an entire empty hallway separated her from it. A dark, nightmarish hallway.
Scared as she was of the dark, her mouth was desperately crying out for relief.
She licked her lips and looked thoughtfully out the window. “What would Zuko and ‘Zula do…” she wondered, the words raspy in her mouth.
The image of her brother and sister stomping down the hallway in search of water made Kiyi giggle. She hopped off the bed and tip-toed towards the door.
The darkness was nowhere to be seen when she stepped out into the hallway. A faint glow emanated from the kitchen, as well as a soft noise. Kiyi’s brows furrowed. It couldn’t be Azula, she thought. The only time she’d ever seen her sister wake up in the middle of the night was when Kiyi woke her up.
She tip-toed down the hallway, her curiosity - and thirst - getting the better of her caution. Then there was a strange smell in the air and she heard the soft, husky voice of her uncle.
He was singing.
“...brave soldier boy, come marching home …”
Her uncle sniffed and his hand rose to wipe away what she assumed were tears.
Kiyi gasped. She hadn’t seen Uncle cry in years.
Apparently the gasp wasn’t as quiet as she thought. Uncle turned around, his eyes wide in surprise, and Kiyi looked down at the floor in shame. She had a feeling she had just intruded on a very private moment.
“Kiyi, what are you doing out of bed? You have school tomorrow!” Uncle rose to his feet - he’d been kneeling in front of something - and slowly walked over to her.
She bit her lip. “I woke up feeling very thirsty so I came to get water. I’m sorry if I bothered you, Uncle.”
He gave out a soft chuckle. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. I’ll bring you some water. Would you like some tea as well?”
Kiyi looked up, her shame already forgotten. “Yes, please!” Uncle always made the best tea. It was why he had an extremely successful tea shop, she supposed.
“Sit with me for a few,” he called from the stove. “Tea is best enjoyed with company.”
She happily nodded, voicing back a reply. Despite how late it was, she didn’t want to leave her uncle all alone in the dark.
Kiyi glanced to where Uncle was kneeling. It was a small table next to the wall, with a few items adorning it. She shuffled closer for a better look. There was the source of the smell - incense sticks on holders, faint wisps of smoke still drifting from the tips. A few apples also sat on the table, along with a small brown sack.
But the most prominent thing was a picture of a young man. A Fire Nation man, yet a stranger. He was handsome and wore his long hair in a tight top-knot above his head. His proud smile and regal features looked familiar...yet he was dressed in a military uniform. Kiyi didn’t think she’d ever met someone in the Fire Army.
Her uncle’s voice called out behind her. “That would be a memorial for my son, Lu Ten. I don’t think you’ve ever seen it until now.”
Kiyi jumped and turned around to see Uncle placing their cups of tea down at the table. Joining him, she asked, “Why now?”
She knew of Lu Ten. Both Uncle and Zuko had mentioned him in passing several times over the years, but never talked about him in-depth. The only thing Kiyi knew about him was that was a good man, and that he died many years before she was even born.
Uncle took a sip and gave a sad, heavy sigh. “I make one every year on the anniversary of his passing. To honor him, to make sure he is not forgotten in this life. You haven’t seen them because I usually make them outside but this year...I suppose it seemed appropriate to bring him under our roof.”
“How did he die?”
Uncle’s eyes looked far away, as if he was sent back years and years. “He died in the Earth Kingdom, when our two countries were still at war. He was...he was a leader and a hero, and there are men and women alive today because of him. I just…”
Whatever Uncle thought goes unsaid. He doesn’t have to say it. She’s felt his pain, she knows it because she’s already stood in his shoes and watched as the world took away her heart and soul.
Kiyi felt tears pooling at the corners of her eyes at his words. “But you miss him so much.”
He nodded. “Everyday. Nothing can fill the hole a child leaves behind.” Uncle stared at the memorial with a longing expression. “But now I have three children, and I would do anything for them.”
She nodded, taking in his words. “But...what about Azula? She said...she said you and her…”
“If Azula has complained to you about me, then I wholeheartedly deserve it. I wasn’t there for her when she needed a guiding hand. I wasn’t there when your mother left and she needed a role model that wasn’t her father.” He looked in the direction of her room, regret and worry written on his face. “The battle to take down and convict Ozai was a long one, but one I’m glad to have had a part in. I just wish I had acted sooner. There are years with her I could’ve done so much with, years I will never get back...”
Kiyi hopped off her chair and gave her uncle a hug, burying her face in his comfortable presence. “She loves you now, she just won’t say it.”
A low chuckle escaped him. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t call it ‘love’ but I think she tolerates me. It’s the best I could’ve hoped for after this long.”
She looked up at her uncle. “I...I would’ve loved to meet Lu Ten. I know ‘Zula would too.”
“He would’ve loved to meet you both as well. There’s not a day that goes by where I don’t wish he was a part of this family. But he’s a part of me now, just as your parents are a part of you.”
Kiyi frowned. “What do you mean?”
Uncle stroked his beard. “Your parents’ love lives on in you, Kiyi. You carry on the best of them, their lessons, their mistakes, their values, just as you carry on what me, Zuko, and Azula have taught you. They will never leave you so long as you keep them in your heart and remember.”
She didn’t know what to say to that, so she fell back on gratitude. “I...I will, Uncle Iroh. Thanks for talking to me, I really liked it.”
He gave her a kind smile. Uncle always knew how to make people feel better. “Always, niece. Now, it’s time for you to sleep. Go on, you have school in the morning!”
“Ok, good night Uncle.” She took one last sip of the tea and padded back to her room, the picture of Lu Ten still frozen in her mind.
A month later, Iroh helped Kiyi find two pictures of her parents and lit an incense stick on her bedside table. When Kiyi was at a loss for words, he sang the song his boy always loved hearing.
She cried, and he cried with her.