Chapter Text
It was a spur-of-the-moment decision. Aang was in the palace with the Earth King and his army of ministers, Sokka was studying the monorail systems, and Toph was… well, causing problems somewhere in the city, no doubt. Katara was surprisingly free for the afternoon, and she planned to make the most of it. She wanted to see what Ba Sing Se was really like, outside of what Joo Dee had insisted on showing her.
That was how she ended up in the Lower Ring, drifting in and out of shops like the ebb of the tide. Mostly, she hadn’t bought anything. Okay, she had bought some food for their apartment in the Upper Ring. And some new Earth Kingdom clothes in fabrics she had no name for. And some treats for Momo, but honestly, if they didn’t want her to buy things, they shouldn’t have given her so much money. Really, it wasn’t her fault, it was the Earth King’s.
Content in her rationalization and thirsty after a few hours in the dry, dusty heat of Ba Sing Se, she ducked into the first tea shop she could find. The sign read Pao Family Tea House in the blocky characters of the Earth Kingdom, and below it, please seat yourself . The tea shop was tiny, but didn’t feel cramped. Most of the tables were filled with chatting groups, laughing couples, and a pair of elderly men locked in the middle of an undoubtedly intense pai sho game.
Finding an open table in a half-hidden corner, Katara neatly stacked her bags in the opposite seat and sat, rolling her neck until she felt the gentle pop she was looking for. Then came the shoulders, and finally her legs stretched below the table. Almost subconsciously, the water in her body reacted to her thoughts, pulling at the knots in her muscles and easing the tension. Tui and La , she was hungry.
“Welcome to the Pao Family Tea House!” A portly old man appeared in Katara’s vision, exuding warm grace. He reminded her of a polar bear dog, welcoming and companionable. “I am Mushi. What can I get for you? Bakpia, perhaps? The bakery up the road makes the best bakpia in the city, and I’ve put on more than a few pounds from their delightful cooking,” he smiled conspiratorially.
“That would be great. Two,” her stomach growled as though it knew she was ordering food, “Three bakpia, please. And I don’t suppose you’d have aqpik tea, would you?”
“Ah, a lover of the rare! I myself enjoy a pot of aqpik when I can get it. A friend of mine introduced me to it years ago, and I never looked back. You’re in luck, young lady, because I have just received a package of it from him yesterday. I’ll get you your food and set the pot to boil.”
As he ambled off, weaving between the tables, Katara couldn’t shake the feeling that he felt familiar . Well, there was the fact that he acted exactly how she imagined a grandfather should act, but there was something else to it, too. Something that burrowed into her brain and wouldn’t be ignored, a needling little mental splinter that cried, something’s going on, something’s going on!
And Katara was not one to ignore her instincts. Even when her instincts were entirely unhelpful. She could feel her mind going around in circles, making a track like a one-legged arctic harefox. A picture sprang into her mind: snowshoes, tamping down snow to make a path, but not digging. There was more to this old man, she could feel it, but the answer danced just out of her reach.
Even when he came back to deliver the bakpia, she had nothing. She nibbled absentmindedly, hunger forgotten in the pursuit of answers. When he came around the second time, holding a tea service tray, she spoke up.
“I’m sorry if this is rude, but where are you from? It’s just, you seem so familiar but I can’t place you.”
“Oh, it’s no trouble, young lady. I’ve been told I have a very recognizable face. My nephew and I are refugees from Liang Chia Village.”
“I see. Well, thank you for the tea.”
“Of course! It is always nice to meet another who shares your tastes, especially the esoteric.” He gave a respectful bow and meandered over to the men playing pai sho, studying the board for a moment before saying something Katara couldn’t hear over the chatter of other guests. Both men looked shocked and the one on the left had a look of smug satisfaction until Mushi made another comment and the one on the right laughed loudly.
Still staring, Katara sipped her tea and nearly gagged. The flavor was all wrong! Apparently, Mushi’s friend was from the Northern Water Tribe, because the tea lacked the drop of seawater that those in the Southern Water Tribe added to their tea to increase the complexity of flavor. In her time at the North Pole, she had been laughed at for drinking her tea correctly , because apparently adding seawater was crude and barbaric .
North Pole, North Pole, North Pole…
Katara dropped her teacup, which clattered loudly on the saucer but thankfully didn’t break. Those at the tables near her glanced over, but she didn’t care. “Mushi” was no refugee, and he definitely wasn’t from Liang Chia Village. The man offering pai sho advice and advertising for a neighboring bakery was none other than General Iroh, the Dragon of the West.
And where there’s Iroh… she thought darkly. She suddenly stood, knocking over her chair. Her teacup, forgotten, was frozen solid and already sweating in the hot restaurant.
Her eyes scanned the tea shop, cataloging entrances and exits. Two doors and three windows, all open to encourage what little breeze could be coaxed into the walled city to circulate through the tea shop. One door led into the street, the other into the kitchen. She thundered like an avalanche toward it.
By the time she got into the kitchen, she was practically running. She heard the sounds of dishes clattering pause.
“Uncle?” An all-too-familiar voice called out, and her anger cracked like an iceberg. She stormed around the corner, already drawing the water out of her waterskin and bending it across the floor, freezing Zuko’s feet to the floor. A moment later, the barrel of dishwater froze too, catching his hands fast. His unscarred eye widened, and Katara thought, good. Let him be afraid.
“What are you doing here, Zuko?!” She nearly screamed. His eye opened wider.
“Uh. Washing a pot?”