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聡明な瞳で世界を知る
溢れるこの想いよ いざ
迎えてくれよ 拍手喝采で
If you asked Zuko what his favorite thing about boxing was, he’d have to say the pain.
Now, before you label him as a psychopath, or even a masochist, it’s important to note that Zuko didn’t actively enjoy the pain so much as he wanted to feel it.
Pain in boxing was an indication of losing, and Zuko does not like to lose. After all, it’s the one important lesson he remembers his father telling him, before he was tossed aside like trash.
Like he was disposable.
Because in his father’s eyes, he was.
So Zuko took out all of his anger and frustration, pain and agony, every emotion he ever felt, all out when he boxed. As his Uncle Iroh, who is also his coach, tells him, leave it all out in the ring. And that’s just what Zuko does.
The gratification of feeling little to no pain was an indication that he was winning. And the satisfaction of being the one standing when the final bell rings was invigorating, almost addicting.
Ever since he began boxing, he was seen as a prodigy. Knocking out opponents in record time, he never thought he’d ever lose. He was at the apex of the boxing league food chain, and no one could touch him.
At least, that was what Zuko thought before he came into play.
The roar of the crowd has become white noise by this point. Zuko pays the thousand of audience members no mind, as he watches the ring from his seat. His gym had set him and his uncle up with ringside tickets to watch this fight, the main reason being that his next opponent was in this match.
And his next match with said opponent was said to be the highest earning pay per view fight ever .
So, it was a pretty big deal that Zuko did some scouting and surveyed his opponent. Got a feel for his style.
This event was a lot more lowkey though, as his future opponent was taking on some amateur scrub with a 2-5 record, who was bound to lose.
Zuko watches as the first fighter, the scrub, enters the ring in the red corner. The corner Zuko reserves for himself. His name - James? Jerry? Jet? Who cares - prances around, and Zuko snickers quietly. He’s pretty sure the guy is drunk.
And finally, Zuko watches flabbergasted as the actual fighter that people paid to see makes his entrance. And boy, is it one entrance.
Loud, obnoxious rap music, with crazy flashing blue lights. He waltzes down the pathway to the ring with some bald kid, an incredibly old lady, and a super pissed off looking girl in tow.
Wearing a sleeveless hoodie, he takes it off to reveal chiseled muscles that Zuko must admit are quite impressive, along with a rectangular tattoo of a wave that wraps around his bicep like an armband. He has blue board shorts with some sort of mystical beast embroidered on them, reminding Zuko of his own red ones, though he has a golden dragon on his.
To top it all off, his hair is tied back in what Zuko recognizes as a warrior’s wolf tail, and piercing blue eyes have Zuko’s breath hitching.
Now, it was time to see if his flashy looks lined up with his fighting style.
Spoiler alert - it did not.
Where his looks were elegant and aesthetically pleasing, his fighting style was slow and rugged. But also balanced and incredibly powerful.
All it took was a few combinations and a nasty, unexpected southpaw to send the lazy drunkard tumbling down to the tarp of the ring.
So, this was the boxer they called-
“ Sokka, ” Uncle Iroh breathed, “look at that sheer power .”
The referee counts to six before Sokka’s opponent amazingly , albeit clumsily gets to his feet. The ref checks on him for a moment, before deeming it safe for him to resume action in the fight.
A few moments later, he hits the tarp again, though this time he doesn’t get up. Sokka starts to celebrate his victory, dancing around the ring.
The ref counts to ten, and the fight is over. Knockout. But the other fighter has yet to get up.
His crew hops in the ring, and it takes a bucket of ice water dumped onto his head for him to wake up. And during the time, Zuko notices how Sokka actually stops celebrating to check up on his opponent, even giving him a hug.
Huh. So maybe he wasn’t a complete dick after all.
As the crowd leaves, Zuko and Iroh make their way out of the arena.
“I have to use the restroom,” Uncle Iroh says, “so don’t leave without me!”
“Hmph. Don’t worry. I’ll be here.” Zuko says.
Deep down, he could never leave his uncle. How could he, when he took him in at the lowest point in his life, and also give him a hobby and job that he loves?
Zuko lets his back hit the wall, before someone sidles up next to him.
“Didja like what you saw tonight?”
Zuko turns to look, to come face to face with Sokka himself. On the outside, his face remains stoic, but internally his heart skips a beat.
“You have good power, but no speed.”
Sokka barks out a laugh, slapping his knee. “Pal, I didn’t need speed to win this fight. Jet fucking sucks, you saw didn’t you?”
Ah, so this whole entire thing was just a façade to hide Sokka’s true power. Zuko must admit, he was much smarter than he seemed. Not that he’d admit that out loud though.
“You have poor footwork.”
“Psht, you haven’t seen anything!” Sokka boasts.
Suddenly, he grabs Zuko’s shoulders and pins him against the wall, leaving Zuko gasping.
“Just you wait,” he growls lowly in Zuko’s ear, “I’ll show you how boxing is really done two weeks from tonight, pretty boy.”
Releasing him, Zuko feels his face flush at the taunting remark, but chooses to ignore it. For now, at least.
Sokka’s icy blue eyes pin him where he stands, and Zuko sizes him up, glad to see he’s just about an inch taller.
“Oh yeah? You know, you talk a lot for someone who just came on the scene-”
“Gentlemen, is there a problem here?”
Both men jump apart at the sound of Iroh’s calm, yet commanding voice.
“Ah- Mister Iroh! It’s a pleasure, sir.” Sokka says, face flushed as he bows.
“You can drop the mister,” Iroh laughs. “No need for formality. Just ‘Iroh’ is fine.”
Zuko laughs internally as Sokka suddenly becomes embarrassed, as he quickly explains that no , he was totally not threatening Zuko before their fight. Just some ‘friendly banter’, that was all.
Zuko often forgets that his uncle wasn’t always the sweet old man he used to be. In his prime, he was the most feared fighter in the world , and even retired with a perfect 40-0 record.
So, if you were an outsider like Sokka, you’d either crap your pants if you saw him or you would kowtow and start fangirling. In Sokka’s case, he seemed to do both.
“Zuko,” Iroh calls, grabbing his attention. “Let’s head home.”
“Right,” Zuko says, shooting Sokka a glare that the blue eyed man returns as he passes by.
“See ya, Zuko. Oh, and good luck! You’ll need it.”
Zuko remains silent, knowing that his actions will do the talking for him.
Right now, he needs to study more film and train harder.
The fight night has finally arrived, and for the first time since his debut fight four years ago, Zuko is feeling a little nervous.
Right now, his record stands at an impressive 20-0, with 15 knockouts.
Sokka, on the other hand, is also undefeated, at 14-0 with 12 knockouts.
Tonight, they not only fight for pride, but also fight for the most glamorous of boxing goals - maintaining an undefeated record.
And only one of them would finish tonight with that goal still complete.
“Are you ready, Zuko?” Iroh asks, stepping into the vast, empty locker room that was really meant for the arena’s basketball team.
“I’m always ready.” Zuko replies, standing up and knocking his gold and red boxing gloves together.
“Good.”
Opening his arms, Zuko meets his uncle halfway in a hug.
“No matter what happens, I’ll always be proud of you, Zuko.”
“Thank you, Uncle. For everything.”
Iroh releases him, and pats his shoulders. “Thank me by winning! Now, go out there and show that guy the power of the jade dragon!”
Zuko groans, slumping. “ Uncle , I thought you’d agree to stop calling me that!”
“Aw, what?!” Iroh whines. “But it’s your official stage na-”
“I know!” Zuko sighs, turning to the exit of the locker room. “We should head out. I have someone’s ass to kick.”
“Right.” Iroh says with a nod.
And with that, they enter the arena, like gladiators in a coliseum, to the roar of thousands.
The bright lights somehow seem even brighter tonight, and as Zuko takes off his shirt and puts in his mouthguard, he can already feel the sweat on his back sliding down his shoulder blades.
He stands in his corner, and watches as his adversary enters the ring, the bald kid that Zuko saw last fight holding the ring’s ropes up so Sokka can enter.
As soon as his shoes hit the tarp, they lock eyes.
Fiery gold versus icy blue.
As the referee calls them to the center of the ring, Zuko bows his head and lets his shaggy black hair cover his eyes. Sokka, on the other hand, lifts his chin up in pure confidence.
“Alright, gentlemen, I want a clean fight-”
Zuko is quick to tune out the referee’s monologue, knowing it by heart after boxing and fighting professionally for so long. Sokka doesn’t even pay the ref any mind as he stares Zuko down, his cocky smirk turning into a death glare.
“-touch gloves.” The ref instructs.
Zuko, always one to uphold his honor, presents his gloves. But to his amazement, Sokka leaves his gloves in front of him, before he walks backwards towards his corner, already getting into a fighting stance.
“...Or not.” the ref says with a sigh.
As Zuko gets to his own corner and gets into his fighting stance, the ref looks towards Sokka.
“Blue corner, are you ready?”
Sokka gives a curt nod and knocks his gloves together as a response.
Looking towards Zuko, the ref asks, “red corner, are you ready?”
“Yes.” Zuko briskly says.
Clapping his white gloved hands together, the fight begins.
“Fight!”
As Zuko gingerly makes his way towards the center, Sokka begins his charge. Coming up on him quickly, Sokka lands a quick combination with lightning speed, but Zuko blocks both hits effortlessly.
Looking for an opening, Zuko takes the offensive and tries a sneaky uppercut, which lands, to both him and Sokka’s surprise. There wasn’t much power behind it, but Sokka’s pupils frighteningly dilate, before he lets out a low growl, and attempts a right hook.
Zuko evades it by ducking, before he lands a left jab to Sokka’s pec.
Sokka ducks his head and wraps his arms around Zuko’s torso before he can land another hit, and the two clinch before the ref forces them apart. The girl and boy frantically shout counteracting commands to Sokka from his corner, while Iroh remains silent in Zuko’s corner.
Resuming the fight, Sokka makes sure to block Zuko’s cheap hits. He switches his approach and opts to play defensively for a little while. As the knocking of wood clappers indicates, ten seconds remain in the round.
Zuko backs up, and dodges Sokka’s last minute offensive attempt, letting the brunet’s punches fly past his face in front of him. Sokka rears up for one last strike, but the sound of the bell has him stopping in his tracks.
Grunting, he spins around and marches towards his corner. As soon as he sits on the stool provided by the bald kid, he glares at Zuko the entire time during the couple minutes in between the round.
As Zuko sits on his own stool, Iroh gives him a towel and some water.
“Keep this up, Zuko. His attrition won’t last.”
“It’s twelve rounds, right?” Zuko asks.
“Yes.” Iroh confirms.
“Alright,” Zuko hums. “It’ll be one of those fights then.”
“I… yes.” Iroh says. “Play it smart.”
“I will.” Zuko placates, taking a swig of water before giving it and the towel back to Iroh.
The next few rounds pass by in a flash, and by the time round 10 rolls around, Zuko can feel a few bruises on his biceps forming. Sokka, on the other hand, had a bruise on one of his cheeks, and he seemed to be quite fatigued.
Zuko took a deep breath - the last couple of rounds were panning out to be brutal ones. Both of their defenses were at their breaking point, and the urgency for a winner was looming over both of their heads.
During round eleven, a knockdown finally happens. Not once, but twice.
Zuko’s light but quick combinations sent Sokka stumbling to the ground, but he quickly got up after the ref counted to two.
But then, Sokka’s legendary southpaw finally landed.
Striking him square on his left cheek, Zuko momentarily saw black as he hit the tarp hard.
Groaning, he’s quickly brought back by his uncle’s frantic screaming, a harrowing sound he’s never heard before.
“ZUKO! GET UP !”
“...six… seven…”
Zuko’s eyes shoot open, and as the ref gets to eight, Zuko is back on his feet.
Holding his gloves, the ref makes sure he’s okay to continue. From behind him, Zuko watches as Sokka goes slack jawed, who had been sure that he had just won.
But what he failed to realize up until that moment was that Zuko wasn’t just any ordinary boxer.
His honor was on the line.
The dwindling seconds of round eleven evaporate, and the twelfth and final round begins.
Trading hits, a cut opens on Zuko’s lower lip, and he tastes blood. Sokka, on the other hand, has a cut of his own on his eyebrow, as a thin line of blood drips down.
As Zuko tries to land a left hook, Sokka embraces him in another clinch. His hot breath tickling Zuko’s ear, Sokka whispers to him.
“Y-you still going?”
“Yes.” Zuko grunts, clenching his teeth. “You?”
“I’ll never stop, baby.” Sokka huffs, before the ref splits them up.
The last ten seconds arrive, and instead of going berserk, both fighters opt to trade and block simple jabs, before the final bell rings.
The crowd roars, and both fighters head to their corners.
“It’ll be a close one, that’s for sure.” Iroh muses. “You both were phenomenal!”
“Thanks.” Zuko grunts.
Coming back to the center, the ref grabs one glove of each fighter, as the main event announcer begins to read the scores.
“Judge Bumi rates the fight, 118-115, blue. Judge Chey rates the fight, 118-116, red.”
Oh.
Oh no. It was gonna be close .
“Judge Piando rates the fight, 116-114, red. And last, but certainly not least, Judge Roku rates the fight 115-114, blue! Which means, the winner is… nobody! Wait, what?!”
The crowd groans, and as Zuko tallies it up, he realizes that they ended with the same amount of points . Meaning…
A draw.
“ WHAT?! ” Sokka screeches. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”
As the sound turns to white noise, Zuko’s world turns to static. He feels Iroh grab his bicep, and time seems to fade.
The next thing he knows, his surroundings return to his hotel room.
Gasping, he sits up abruptly, but doesn’t see anyone around him. Looking at his nightstand, he spots a note.
Nephew,
I went to grab dinner. I’ll bring you something back. Make sure to rest.
Oh, and in case you forgot, it was a draw.
I think it was the right decision :)
- Iroh
Zuko rolls his eyes at his uncle’s cheeky remark. Of course he thought it was the right decision.
As he flops back onto his bed, a sudden knock on the door as him bolting upright. Was uncle already back?
Padding over to the door, he opens it without thought, expecting his uncle but coming face to face with-
“Sokka?!”
“Yo.” He greets, breezing past Zuko and waltzing into his room. “Woah, nice digs man! Your gym pay for this?”
“Uh… yeah.” Zuko says. “Can I… help you?”
Sokka looks over his shoulder at Zuko, as he smiles.
“Y’know, I was really pissed that we had a draw.”
“So what, you want a rematch?” Zuko grumbles, crossing his arms.
“Can I finish?” Sokka snorts.
“Sorry…” Zuko says, blushing. “Go ahead.”
“I was pissed, but after some thought, I realized something…”
“...”
“...You’re supposed to ask me what I realized-”
“I thought you said to not interrupt you!”
“ Ugh , you really are a blockhead.” Sokka groans. “Anyways, I realized that our fight was the most fun I had boxing in, well, forever!”
“H-Huh?” Zuko feels his eyes go wide at Sokka’s confession.
“Heh, yeah. Call me crazy, but I think we work well together.” Sokka goes on, blushing himself. “I mean, I think we could be like, the new face of boxing. Or something. Sorry, I’m rambling.”
“Don’t apologize!” Zuko quickly says, not thinking. “It’s cute when you ramble.”
Sokka spins around, his face red, and Zuko feels his brain short circuit.
“...Uh… ha… ha.” Zuko awkwardly says.
Sokka chuckles, shaking his head.
“Y’know, you really are something, Zuko. Maybe you aren’t some thorny emo and you’re actually a sweetheart on the inside.”
“Wha- hey!”
Sokka openly laughs as he trots over to Zuko and slings an arm around his shoulder. Ducking his head, Zuko freezes up as he feels Sokka press his lips to his jawline, where a little bruise had formed.
“...Sorry about damaging your beautiful face.” Sokka breathes quietly.
“S- I’m… sorry, too.” Zuko says, ducking his head as he tries to hide his red face.
“Hey, look at me.” Sokka orders gently, grabbing Zuko by the chin and forcing him to make eye contact.
Looking into Sokka’s blue depths, Zuko doesn’t see an icy facade. This time, he sees adoration, like a warm blue summer sky from his home city.
Touching Sokka’s chest, Zuko leans his head in, and brushes his lips with Sokka’s. From there, Sokka presses his lips back, and the two exchange little pecks. Zuko yelps when Sokka suddenly pokes his tongue out, swiping it across his lower lip.
“That’s for the cut there.” Sokka explains with a chuckle.
Grabbing Sokka’s hair, Zuko unties his wolf tail, and feels his heart skip a beat as Sokka’s brown hair falls, and frames his face perfectly.
“You’re beautiful,” Zuko breathes, before he attacks Sokka’s mouth with his own.
Laughing, Sokka throws them onto the bed, where the two make up for their earlier match by kissing all the marred and bruised skin. Undoing each other, but also repairing old wounds in the process.
Zuko used to like pain, but now he likes something else even more.
It’s the feeling of looking into Sokka’s eyes, and the light, airy sensation in his chest and stomach that comes along with it.
He thinks it might be love, but he can wait to make sure. He has as much time as he needs.
Later in the evening, as he’s falling asleep, cradled in Sokka’s strong arms, his suspicions are confirmed.
He’s in love.
And for the first time in his life, he welcomes that love.