Chapter Text
He was forced to watch himself. He had to watch the worst day of his life as it was through an outside perspective. He watched his past self beg. All limbs on the ground as he looked up with rivers flowing from each properly working eye. Watched as desperation flooded both. Father lifted a hand to his face. It could've been endearing, wiping away his son’s tears, pushing his hair out of his face. Could've been warm, kind, compassionate.
Instead, it felt heartless.
It wasn't the emoji on your keyboard.
It was a barely beating heart laying out on the sidewalk next to a corpse. Both were stepped on repeatedly. People cleaned their shoes of any regret with disgust on their face after walking away.
His father's face distorted. It was a cloud of flesh with a vicious expression. Not a smile, not a frown. Shame. Nearly monotonous. Mouth in a straight line, eyes being the emotion deciding factor. He couldn't recognize his dad anymore.
Still, he couldn't help but hope.
Then, there was fire. It burned. It always did. It couldn't do anything else. Like himself, only bringing pain.
He screamed. What else would he do? He couldn't do anything else. Unlike fire, only bringing dishonor.
It took far too much time for him to finally pass out. The fire and screams stayed present throughout the wait.
The last thing he noticed was Uncle looking away and Azula smiling widely, a callous ferocity to her eyes.
He woke up with a pant.
Zuko let Aang have a break from training that day.
—
It was the day after Zuko and Sokka’s “field trip”.
Aang worked on earthbending with Toph all day. (For some reason, Zuko gave him a break that day.) Suki trained by herself, sometimes being joined by Chit Sang and sometimes joining the two earthbenders. Zuko trained alone, farther away from the others. He exhaled anger with each kata and inhaled shame with each mistake.
The water tribe siblings spent their time catching up with their father.
Speaking of the man, Zuko was still wary of him. Whenever he was near the family, he was subconsciously hyperaware of Hakoda’s actions. He'd like to tell himself that it wasn't purposeful, but who was he fooling? When he flinched or winced (Yes, when. Did you expect me to write ‘if’? Hah. What a joke. You know that it happened. You wouldn't be here without the angst, right? I know what you are.), he'd simply repeat the words he used like a personal mantra. It was cruel and it was wrong. Of course, his focus on them didn't prevent him from noticing Chit Sang’s eyes. Did he have no shame? He was almost openly staring. Even so, Zuko couldn't quite figure out what his expression meant. It was unreadable, unidentifiable, akin to pondering. Perhaps awe, but Zuko was quick to shut down that assumption. Why would anyone look at him, the banished and scarred prince, with awe? Anyway, if Chit Sang needed to say something to him, he should just say it. Whether it was cowardice or not, they gathered around the campfire.
Apparently, all of Zuko's luck was used when he was born because he had to sit between the happy family and Chit Sang. At least it was Sokka next to him rather than the worse options of Hakoda (he would've been certifiably fucked if he flinched) and Katara (he had no doubt that she still hated him).
He was given food and had to resist the urge to blow fire on it. Not that he wasn't allowed or anything, he just couldn't bring himself to. Partially not wanting to drag everyone's attention to him and partially not trusting his current self. He stayed silent while everyone talked and ate. Even Chit Sang spoke occasionally, though his voice was definitely not heard as much as the others. With the exception of our prince, of course.
Later, once all the dishes were empty of food (minus one, he felt like throwing up) and clean, they still sat around the fire. Somehow, the siblings and their dad ended up telling embarrassing stories about each other. Zuko reacted when and how it was appropriate, adding exactly what his presence was worth. (Nothing, a voice sounding eerily like his father whispered into his ear. No one noticed him shudder.)
When the talk quieted down a little, Chit Sang turned slightly to face the boy on his left. “Prince Zuko,” he addressed. Zuko matched the other’s movements.
“You really don't have to use honorifics, I'm not much of a prince anymore. It doesn't really matt–”
“My brother was in the 41st division.”
Zuko physically froze, stopping his rambling with wide eyes and an open mouth.
“I’m sorry.” The shocked expression wore off and he was quieter than usual. He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. The rest of the Gaang (plus Hakoda) watched in slight confusion. What was the 41st? Why was Zuko of all people sorry? And what was he even sorry about?!
Chit Sang clenched his jaw before he spoke again, “Do not be sorry for trying. Your suffering was cruel and wrong, just like your father was for such an act. Everyone in that division was able to rest knowing that their future leader would fight for them. And for that, you will always be my prince.” He unknowingly used the same words that Zuko had that day. The day that Zuko decided to pursue his own destiny. The day that Zuko had to redirect lightning. The day that Ozai tried to murder his son. Not the first time it's happened, he thought bitterly as he looked down at his arms. He knew it was cruel and wrong. Obviously it was. What else could it be–
“Can someone tell me what the 41st is? And what any of that means?” Sokka, ever able to read a room, eloquently asked. (If his tone wasn't as ‘jokey’ as usual and sounded almost concerned, it was no one's problem but his.) Katara was quick to elbow him in the stomach. “What? I'm confused and they're being vague about it!” She rolled her eyes before directing her gaze back to the two, Sokka following. It was Chit Sang who answered his questions.
“The 41st was a division of troops in the Fire Nation. It was full of new recruits, the oldest was barely 19. The youngest, my brother, was–”
“Chizan, age 15, he took an arrow to the shoulder and bled out on the field,” Zuko cut in, looking up. Everyone turned to him in surprise.
“How did you…” Chit Sang trailed off, still shocked. Zuko smiled resentfully. A shiver ran down their spines.
“Father made sure I was sent their death certificates to remind me of my disrespect and cowardice.” He scoffed and the next words came out quieter like he didn't intend for anyone to hear them. “As if he didn't already give me a permanent reminder on my face.” Their faces showed that they did, in fact, hear him. Then, his face softened.
“I made sure I would remember all I could about everyone in that division before I lost the certificates. I'm sorry that I couldn't do more for them.” He was holding back tears by now.
“You burned for us that day. For them. No one deserves that.”
“B-but…” Tears were starting to fall from his good eye and his lips quivered as he spoke. “I was disrespectful…”
“Would you do it again? Stand up for your nation?”
Zuko was momentarily surprised.
“Yes.” This was when the dam really broke. Not for him, though. All of the Gaang were now openly sobbing. Katara had her hands clasped over her mouth with tears streaming. Aang and Toph looked ready to murder Ozai for all that he was worth, though only one of them would be willing to follow through. Sokka and Suki were crying, too. Hakoda had one arm around each of his kids, no tears in his eyes but they weren’t needed because his face said it all.
“I’m… gonna go to bed now.” Zuko practically fled the room, leaving all of them staring at what was his place just a moment ago. Sokka almost made a motion to stop him, but his brain couldn't force his muscles to move. Now all that could be heard were the crackles of the fire as it flared brighter and the cries of 5 children. 6, if you were Toph. (It was hell, hearing Zuko’s pitiful sobs.)
None of them knew what Chit Sang meant by suffering and burning but they could infer and that was cruelty in itself.
Hakoda heard rumors but how could he know what was true with all the propaganda people spread?
Suki knew of stories, too, however hers were closer to the original than what she was comfortable with. Well, would be comfortable with, if she knew the real story. (She would soon.)
The siblings were smart enough to put the pieces together. Or start putting them together, at least. The puzzle was devastating, they realized. 1000 pieces, all random colors, and the picture they formed was repulsing even if they only had a tenth of what they needed. Sokka gagged and had to run out of the temple to throw up.
Toph eavesdropped, as she so often did, on her parents once. Fragments were coming back to her. Scar, face, passed out, Agni Kai, banished. Unlike the others, she did have the full story. She hoped otherwise but the proof presented itself in both the exchange she just listened to and the speed at which Zuko's heart was beating. Toph had to leave the temple to vomit, as well.
Aang knew the Fire Nation was corrupt. Everybody did. He knew that firebenders didn't burn easily. He knew about intent. He knew that Ozai was, is, cruel. He knew that Zuko's scar was suspiciously hand-shaped. Suddenly, an image popped into his head. He, too, had to exit the temple.
How he wished he knew more about Zuko.
—
It would be fine. Chit Sang was wrong and it was perfectly fine. Or was he right? It was cruel and it was wrong, he knew that. But did he believe that? Maybe… maybe Chit Sang's right. I mean, he had to be. You can't justify melting half of your child's face off. Not with anything that Zuko may have shown that day. Not with him “deserving it”. No matter whether he believed or understood it then, he didn't deserve it. He was standing up for what was right and if that wasn't honor, then what is?
His breaths came out shallow and in between hiccups as he thought about it. He inhaled and exhaled deeply. The deep breaths Uncle told him would help in situations like these. He missed Uncle.
After one more exhale, he was reminded of their faces. None of them seemed angry, or well, not angry at Zuko. None of them looked at him in disgust when he mentioned showing disrespect and dishonor. They appeared shocked, in a good way, when he told them that he memorized the recruit’s names. Almost like awe. This time, he let himself believe that such a look could be directed at him. He might not always agree, but tonight he could think that.
He went to bed with a tear-streaked face and he didn't have a single nightmare. He slept so well that he didn't even notice Chit Sang standing guard right outside his room.