Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Amidst the adrenaline and determination that fuel each burst of flame, there is a crushing shame. He needs to end this quickly. Subdue the shattered ghost of his perfect little sister before she burns the world to ash, with herself as fuel for the pyre. Zuko should not be winning this battle; no matter how much he trained and improved while with Avatar’s little gang, this fight was always going to be decided by a fluke. 

Whether his little sister stayed in control of herself or not.

He bet on her shattering for victory, and now he tries to ignore the waves of shame that try to drown him. For all he sometimes hates his prodigy of a sister, this isn’t something he could ever wish upon her.

He needs to end this quickly.

The taunt bubbles up before he can stop it. He has the upper hand, but it's uncertain for how long. If he could only redirect her lightning, in this state, even if a part of her expects it, she should falter. Her failure of an older brother managing a technique she’s only seen a master perform. A moment should be enough to turn his minor advantage into a major one.

Yet, nothing ever goes as he expects.

The rules of Agni Kai forbid the involvement of bystanders. Azula forfeits the match as brilliant blue arches towards Katara.

Zuko moves without thinking, and all he knows is blue. A blue snake sinking fangs into his chest, tearing through him to ignite the air trapped in seizing lungs. Blue eyes wide with horror, concern, anguish, rage. Blue water and ice reflecting blue flames. 

The flames reach for the sky again and again in his periphery. Faintly, he hears the crash of waves and the crackle of frost over the ragged gasps his ravaged lungs manage to pump. Azula laughs, uncontrolled and manic, nothing like what he remembered her sounding. Not when she was twelve, triumphant at his banishment. Not when she was four, gleeful with her newfound flames.

A blink, and the world turns muffled. Laughter turns to howls and wails, torn from rage that Azula never allowed to bubble forth. The flames still flash, but he cannot hear any water rushing to meet them. Katara reappears in his vision, eyes burning that same blue. She’s as determined and fierce as ever, even with exhaustion no doubt clawing at her awareness.

She’s planning to fight the burning for him. Zuko opens his mouth to tell her he’s sorry for the trouble.

“Zuko, just shut up,” she hisses, through forming tears, as blue forms in his chest, leaking into his blood and trying to mend what blue had also burnt. So much blue. It stood out nicely against the sky painted bloody with his nation’s colour. 

His world was always so red when he was young; red walls, red floors, red clothes, red flames, red lips, red scars. However, the blue was ever-present then, too, in the rolling waves lapping at pale sand and in the clear skies where Agni sat, sharing his light and blessings.

But when Azula bent blue for the first time, it was still so breathtakingly different from anything he’d seen before. The prodigy had proved herself to be better than he could even imagine was possible.

He clapped and cheered for her, excited at such a miraculous accomplishment.

Did anyone cheer for her when she bent blue in biting, tearing arcs of current?

“You fucker, don’t you dare close your eyes, Zuko,” Katara viciously whispers from above. He blinks and meets blue eyes so different from his gold. Sokka has the same eyes. Suki’s are a shade different, but still blue, probably due to the proximity of Kyoshi Island to the South Pole. Aang’s eyes are gray, like Ty Lee’s, which in retrospect is a bit strange. The milky pale green of Toph’s eyes is different from anyone he’s ever seen. That’s explained by her blindness, of course, which she wields as a strength rather than the weakness others perceive it as. 

On the other hand, he guarded the secret of his failing left eye and ear like it was all that stood between him and death. Did the Avatar’s group ever figure it out? Toph did, during a spar, but she wouldn’t have told the others.

If Katara keeps staring at him like that, she’ll no doubt notice how his left is paler and less focused. 

“Why isn’t it healing!?” she exclaims, as cold sweeps away his previous thoughts. It creeps into every limb, forming needles in his veins. Zuko knows why he’s not healing. 

It’s a rather simple reason. This isn’t something he can be healed from.

He tries to raise a hand to bat Katara away so she would stop wasting her energy. All he manages is a pathetic twitch. 

“If you die here, we’ll find you in the Spirit World, or in your next life or wherever you go, and I’ll kill you for this, Zuko,” Katara promises, tears freely flowing now from her blue eyes. “The others will help. We just started to get to know you… You can’t leave now!”

Her words are cut off by a desperately contained sob breaking free. Katara renews her efforts.

Again, he opens his mouth to say sorry. No sound comes out, and he settles for mouthing it and a tired smile. It’s no doubt awkward on his face when it’s slowly going numb, but Katara seems to understand. She sobs out into the silent courtyard and forces more power into her healing even if his flesh refuses to mend.

He hopes she’s telling the truth. The thought of seeing everyone together again is very nice. Maybe Uncle will be there too.

Zuko hopes he’s not upset with him for never making it to the throne. At least, he won the Agni Kai this time.

It’s a sudden and horrible awareness. Zuko is ten; he’s at a big event with his older brother to celebrate Enji making it to number two on the hero charts, and he just died to Azula’s lightning. Katara’s tears are mixing with his blood, and Enji’s large hand is shaking him to awareness. Katara is cursing him for leaving them behind, and Enji is ordering him to behave.

Enji, with his red hair and brilliant blue eyes that burn so familiarly.

So that’s why Zuko never quite got along with his older brother or liked spending time with their father. 

Nightmares of a burning hand cradling his face, melting through skin, flesh and bone have plagued him for as long as he can remember. His father was a kind man who loved his sons. But he was tall and imposing, stoic even when gentle and caring. 

Zuko could never ignore the flames hiding in his father’s palms. Flames his brother inherited and stoked to be brighter than their father’s ever were.

Yet, now he is aware how unfair he was to his family. Enji never treated Zuko poorly, not even after he became his sole guardian months ago, their mother passing in an unfortunate villain encounter, just like their father did when they were younger. His brother can’t be described as caring, but he never dismisses Zuko. For all that he bosses him around, it never feels like he’s a burden. 

The problem is his endeavour. 

“Zuko, stop daydreaming, I need you to stick by me. I don’t want to waste time finding you in this crowd,” Enji snaps his fingers, bringing Zuko out of his thoughts. He’s number two now. It isn’t enough for Enji. 

Fire Lord wasn’t enough for Ozai.

“I’m sorry, Enji,” he mutters, jumping out of his seat to play obedient little brother of the young successful hero. They have at most another hour of meeting people and forcing smiles. 

It’s far too long.

Prince Zuko rages in confusion, tearing through ten years of memories not truly his own. Memories of a happy family whittled down to two distant brothers. Memories of a world where everyone, even the smallest of children, holds so much power, where the balance lies in the glory of heroes and the cruelty of villains instead of Avatars and spirits. 

Todoroki Zuko soaks in sixteen years of struggles and living in a war; be it in distant lands, or on the shores he passes in his rust bucket boat, or just over the hills, past the village they left behind the day before. Sixteen years of expectations, losses, and not being good enough in any sense he should have been. 

He silently stuffs it all away to be dealt with later, when he isn’t having his cheek pinched every five minutes and can properly sink into the panic creeping in the corners of his vision.

If his brother notices anything off, he doesn’t mention it. Zuko is a strange child, has been since the day his mother declared his name and refused to change it to anything else. A sudden change in behaviour like this can simply be attributed to that strangeness. Has always been attributed to that strangeness. All he needs to do is hold on to this horrible awareness until he can set it loose in the safety of his room. 

Zuko tags behind his brother for the rest of the event like an obedient dog. He focuses on the red hair and flaming shoulders, trying to chase away the visions of flowing black and blood red silk.

How do you deal with sixteen years of memories returning to you in one great mess? Zuko lights five candles and reaches out for the flames.

He breathes, and the five little blazes breathe with him.

For ten years, he’s been the youngest Todoroki. A strange and quiet child that’s far too serious for someone so young. He’s always been wary of his father, and once his brother hit a growth spurt and their father’s passing alighted his ambitions, he’d grown wary of Todoroki Enji, too. Night terrors have been a constant since he was born. No psychiatrist or psychologist had ever figured out the true cause, many attributing it to his family’s quirk and leaving it there. 

A logical connection, with how in each dream he burned and watched others burn. Just as it is logical that his flame-wielding brother and father would cause him discomfort, even if he wields those same flames.

It always made their father sad when his youngest drew away from him, but he had never blamed him. Todoroki Zuko always craves tea when thinking of that kind, loving distance. 

Enji was far more hurt and frustrated when his little brother started shying away. Whatever bond they had when Zuko was younger is now long dead and buried.

Which is why Enji took him in when their mother passed away out of obligation, not affection. His newfound maturity makes that motivation easy to spot. The media would have a field day if the number two hero let his ten-year-old brother be sent to a foster home or orphanage. He’s lived with Enji for the last three months, and they see each other three times on average in a single week.

Todoroki Zuko is an independent child who never took well to being fussed over. He’s smart and capable. An old soul, his mother had called him once. A genius, his father praised. Hassle-free, his brother muttered when Zuko first came to live with him.

In his ten years of life, Todoroki Zuko had not understood what exactly made him different. The clues skirted on the edge of his subconscious, a whisper of a reason he simply could not grasp.

But now it is burrowed in his chest, burning him all over again.

Prince Zuko is Fire Lord Ozai’s failure of a firstborn. At ten years old, he lost his mother and gained a title he never thought he would. A truly inadequate crown prince who had no hope of learning to be better, according to his tutors. An annoying obstacle in the way of his much more capable sister.

A soft-hearted fool with a weak spark and no potential, banished from the palace at thirteen with a permanent brand. Rage had fueled him for three years of a pointless quest. Desperation took him around the world twice over, once to find the Avatar, and once in his pursuit.

In a crystal cave, all the rage and desperation turned to smouldering coals, smothered by the sight of his sister killing the tiny Avatar with a triumphant sneer. He had never fought with lethal force against the Avatar and his band of misfits. 

They were just children. A ragtag group of fools standing in the way of the Fire Nation out of youthful ignorance. He hadn’t thought his sister would. 

But she was just a child, too, wasn’t she?

The stupid assassin took with him half the payment and the rest of the ashen remains of his rage and desperation. Just in time for horror and crushing guilt to take their place. 

At sixteen, Prince Zuko listened to his father’s mad plan to burn a grand kingdom to nothing. Every child, elder, man, and woman thrown onto the pyre of madmen’s ambitions. His father wanted to stand at the top of the world even if what remained of it were bloodied coals.

His father would have sent the 41st division to their deaths without a second thought. Prince Zuko speaking up had never been a deciding factor. Respect or not, Ozai would never care enough not to send his people to their deaths.

Prince Zuko turned a traitor. Prince Zuko joined hands with the Avatar and found a family in those weathered palms and weighed-down shoulders.

Then Prince Zuko died at the hands of his little sister, who, despite it all, a part of him buried in years of resentment, adored. Prince Zuko died staring up at a friend who once declared him her worst enemy.

Prince Zuko died with far too many regrets to name. He died, and now he’s someone else. Now he’s ten-year-old Todoroki Zuko, and there is nothing he can do to change that fact. Prince Zuko is dead.

The candles flicker out as he releases his breath in one big sigh. 

He hopes Katara makes good on her promise someday. After living a long and fulfilled life with Aang, Sokka, Suki and Toph, he hopes they find Todoroki Zuko. He hopes they accept him quicker than they did the Prince.

Though it’d be great if she forgets the whole killing part of the deal. That would be really nice.

Two years have passed since Todoroki Zuko fully remembered being Prince Zuko. Not much has changed between him and his brother.

At least, not until now. Zuko observes the wedding and wonders how much damage he could do if he punches Enji in the face. Or the groin. The groin is honestly a much more realistic option. And could potentially render this mess obsolete.

Himura Rei sits calmly beside Enji, face serene as she is stripped of her family name and made a Todoroki. As she is sold to his brother in exchange for her family’s prosperity. At least this time there is no century-old deal or blood feud involved. However, a marriage for a stronger quirk doesn’t sound too different from a marriage for stronger benders.

Did the Prince’s mother sit as serenely when Ozai bound her to his madness?

Zuko stews in his thoughts and refuses to look up from the floor, even if it is rude. It would be much ruder if he spent the entire ceremony glaring at his brother and the other Himuras present.

Enji had not told him about the marriage until he was being whisked away to a tailor and fitted into appropriate attire. Not that Zuko had not known about it. Even before the full return of his memories, he was always light on his feet. The Blue Spirit experience came in handy when living with a man who avoids him half the time he’s home. It’s a mutual approach to their cohabitation that Zuko is happy to make easy, even if sometimes a lot of sneaking and a bit of eavesdropping is required if he wants to avoid being blindsided by Enji’s flights of ambition-fueled fancies.

That’s how he found out the true nature of the wedding. It’s also how he found out that Enji plans to move all three of them to a new home. One equipped with many rooms, enough space for the whole family of three plus however many children they have. It is nice that Enji is not kicking him to the curb now that he’s started a new life. Except, just like the initial decision to take him in, Zuko knows it’s not out of any sort of familial affection.

Zuko has acted as a softener for Endeavour’s raging personality for years now. Endeavour’s little brother; look how kindly the number two hero treats his family. The public ate it up, boosting Enji’s rankings. If Zuko is kicked out, it will, naturally, do the opposite.

Now he’ll have a wife to add to his image control. 

Fuming, Zuko continues glaring at the wooden floor and listens as the ceremony reaches its end. He will have to do his best not to weird Rei out. He will not leave her to struggle alone in Enji’s shadow.

Yet, it quickly becomes apparent that his help is not necessarily needed. Rei joins their near-empty household with ease, following along with Enji’s wishes, but fulfilling plenty of her own.

The kitchen is remade to her liking and the garden rearranged for her walks. The house is remodelled with her tastes lining every corridor. She does not let herself be crushed by Enji’s presence so much as she yields to him in compromise, holding her ground plenty. And Enji proves Zuko’s expectations wrong by not being the worst husband this side of Japan. 

He thanks Rei for the meals and ensures she is healthy and happy. He’s generous financially and sometimes even brings her flowers as a husband in a normal couple would. 

So Rei does not need his help, capable and powerful in her own way. It reminds him of the Fire Lady in a way that stings his eyes and cools his bruises. Another one of the Prince’s ghosts coming forth to haunt him.

On a whim, he asks Rei one evening if she enjoys theatre or operas.

It was random, almost rude in its suddenness. He had hardly spoken to her before that despite his determination to be her support. They exchanged polite greetings and socially expected inquiries about how their days are going, but no real conversation was ever held. He cannot help the flush that forms after he blurts out his question.

It becomes a biweekly tradition. Rei is not an avid fan of theatre, but she likes how the actors express themselves and the musical accompaniment of the dramatic scenes. After every show, they spend hours discussing the production. Mostly, embarrassingly enough, it is Zuko talking, but Rei has plenty to add.

Enji is bewildered when he catches wind of their little tradition. He does not forbid it, though, only giving a half-hearted reminder that Zuko not forget his schoolwork.

Rei thanks him for joining her each time, and Zuko always, rightfully, points out that he is the one who wanted. She always laughs at his flustered insistence, before asking what show they should view next.

Rei might not need his help, but at least his company seems welcome.

Quirk training happens weekly, with a tutor Enji picked out or sometimes Enji himself. The training started after the wedding, probably triggered by how Zuko petulantly tore Enji’s flames out of his hands when he ignited them for a demonstration for the Himuras. 

His quirk is officially named Fire Dancer, an emitter type quirk that can take control of any fire and bend it to his will. He can increase its temperature, lower it, or snuff it out completely. Zuko’s stunt with Enji proved it could work on flames controlled by others.

Its potential became much more apparent.

Todoroki Zuko avoided using his quirk at all costs. Fire did not carry a pleasant association, and whenever he did use it, his night terrors would twist to have his hand do the burning.

But Prince Zuko conquered that particular fear long ago, with the help of gentle guidance and an obscene amount of tea. Now he has no problem making fire dance to his drum, twirling around familiar kata and stances. It is strange to be unable to conjure his own, but all he needs is a flicker, and he can push it into a blaze.

His quirk training quickly transitions from pushing the limits of what he can control to fights and sparring matches. The teacher Enji chose is suitably impressed with how quickly Zuko picks up combat. It is a bizarre experience to be considered a prodigy, only slightly soured by the trainer’s happy assertion that it’s an expected brilliance of the Todoroki blood.

When Enji trains him, they almost always spar. Eventually, it becomes all about Enji fighting to keep his flame his own while Zuko wrestles his brother’s quirk into submission. The way quirks work is so different from bending; no need for precise martial arts when the blasts come naturally with every punch. Enji is surprisingly defenceless against pure technique in the beginning. Zuko’s style is odd in this world, not solely dependent on his quirk, or centred around it. His brother isn’t ready for such a different opponent.

Sometimes, between the frustrated grunts and swearing, it feels like Enji enjoys their spars. He huffs at the more complicated katas, rolling his eyes at the “unnecessary” complications to his quirk use, but still keenly studies how Zuko fights.

Yet, his brother never bothers to question where he learned his martial arts, or how he’s so familiar with using his quirk alongside them. He doesn’t even question why Zuko asks for Dao swords for his twelfth birthday. His teachers declare him a master of them in only a month, and Enji doesn’t even blink.

It’s a bit bitter.

He only bothers acknowledging any of the oddities in between cursing when Zuko first uses the Dao during a spar. Rei spends a week shooting him amused little grins, no doubt enjoying her husband’s new haircut.

There is a wriggling weight in Zuko’s arms. The weight has a pudgy pink face with a shock of his brother's dark red hair. Whimpers and warbles pathetically slip out from a wrinkled-up, disgruntled mouth. All in all, kind of a gross picture.

Zuko can barely breathe.

He’s an uncle. All he can do is hysterically wonder if his nephew would like jasmine tea or prefer something darker with citrus ascents, as his mother does.

His arms are shaking.

Agni, one wrong move and he could kill his nephew.

“He’s so tiny,” Like Azula was, in the faded, barely there memories he has of her birth. His mother had been so tired from the process. The thought makes him curl the little soul in his arms closer.

Rei smiles happily at him from where she’s resting on the couch. They had not taken him to the hospital, but contrary to his usual habit of avoiding Enji outside of training, he greeted them at the door.

“He’ll grow,” his older brother proudly assures, hovering behind him to make sure Zuko does not drop his newborn son. Unbidden again, his mind conjures his Ozai, disdainful of Azula’s size until he held her up and saw her spark.

There is no guarantee Touya will have his father’s quirk. Either Enji isn’t considering the possibility, or he truly doesn’t care. 

A large hand caresses the baby’s face, and the miracle presses a tiny cheek into the calloused palm. 

Zuko hands Touya over to his father with minimal hesitation. His congratulations are sincere.

“Zuko, you’re crying,” Enji dumbly states, a bit wide-eyed. Maybe a bit too sincere. “You never cry.”

“I’m still human, Enji,” he bites out through the tears, miraculously managing not to choke, ignoring how warm his face feels. Enji makes an even more incredulous face.

Rei quietly laughs from the couch.

When Fuyumi is born, Zuko cries a second time. Enji gives him the same startled look. Touya mirrors him with impressive accuracy.

The tiny girl is born with white hair and even has her mother’s soft brown eyes. 

Enji and Zuko sit around the sleeping baby with Touya, all three lost in thought. Touya clumsily reaches out for his baby sister, and Enji gently stops him. He is still far too clumsy to be allowed near his sister without a barrier. Interrupted, the toddler stands up and hugs his father instead.

“You’re treating your family well,” the words slip out before Zuko can think about what he’s saying. He reaches a hand out to stroke Fuyumi’s baby fluff hair and meets his brother’s eyes.

Enji looks less angry than Zuko anticipated. 

“You expected me not to?” Japan’s number two questions. His voice is level, but Touya makes a questioning noise. Babies are so smart sometimes. Or maybe his nephew is just that amazing.

“You married Rei for her quirk,” Zuko points out, gold eyes burning with barely controlled indignation. They never openly discussed this, but that hardly means he’s forgotten, or forgiven, for that matter. Enji probably even sensed that Zuko knew about the quirk marriage, but talking about it is hardly their style. “If these children don’t have the quirk you want from them, what will you do? If Fuyumi takes after Rei, or Touya’s flames aren’t strong enough?”

“They’re my children! Do you really think their quirks would change that?” Enji demands, voice rising now. Zuko only glares. What did his brother expect him to say? Isn’t the answer obvious when their quirks were the entire point of him marrying Rei?

The anger drops from Enji’s face, frown still present, but less scathing than before. He gently lifts Touya, breaking eye contact with Zuko to marvel at his son.

“You’re not a normal child, Zuko. I could have never treated you like you were. My children are not you,” he explains, and Zuko stares at him, thoroughly confused.

What does that have to do with anything? 

“I’ve been meaning to ask, what’s happening with you?” Enji continues, managing to shift the topic away from himself. Zuko isn’t amused, but arguing anymore in front of his brother’s children wouldn’t be a good idea. Not when he can feel his temper warming his palms, the venom on his tongue. “You’ve been acting stranger than usual. Rei mentioned you’ve stopped going to your little plays with her, and you’ve been skipping your quirk training.”

Was Enji really so reluctant to discuss his marriage that he resorted to asking Zuko about himself? Zuko scowls, childishly making a plan to strip Endeavour of his stupid flame shoulders in public again.

“I’m fine,” he spits out. His temper has been getting worse since his thirteenth birthday. He’s been skipping meetings with Rei and his training to avoid blowing up at someone. Prince Zuko did plenty of that as a thirteen-year-old. Todoroki Zuko didn’t need to make it a Zuko-themed tradition.

Worse yet, the night terrors were reaching a peak. A night doesn’t go by without him dreaming of the Agni Kai. Most nights it’s Ozai, imposing and unreachable, a gentle caress he’d always long for turned into a flaming comet burning through him. 

On some nights it’s Endeavour, wreathed in flames and boiling ambition, calling him an obstacle.

On the worst nights it’s Azula. Twisted and wrong, howling and wailing, burning him blue even as he chokes on the torn remains of his lungs.

Each time he wakes up and traces the unblemished left side of his face. He keeps a lighter in his room, for quirk training and meditation. Some night he imagines flicking it to life under his eye and ordering the flame to grow.

All his life, Todoroki Zuko had the familiar face of the Prince. He doesn’t anymore. In the mirror lives an unscarred stranger, one that Zuko can’t bring himself to trust.

The scar was a brand that took with it most of his vision and hearing on his left side. It drew whispers, mockery, disdain. A constant reminder of his failure, and later, his country’s cruelty. It’s wrong to miss it.

But if he never received it, who would he have been? 

“UA exams are coming up next year, so I’m focusing on my studies,” he adds as an excuse. He does use his sleepless nights to work ahead on schoolwork.

Enji levels him with a look that makes it clear how little he believes him.

“Don’t neglect your training. Your quirk is dangerous even if you cannot make your own fire, and I won’t have you growing into a hazard,” Enji sternly tells him. “I’ll let you work through whatever is occupying you, but I expect to see you in the training room tomorrow morning.”

Zuko nods with a grunt and gives his nephew’s hair a final ruffle before leaving. That night it’s Enji’s hand melting through his skull.

Rei catches him staring at himself in the mirror, lighter held under his left eye. She calmly pries the lighter out of his fingers, not saying a single thing.

“Zuko, what’s going on? What’s on your mind?” Rei asks after forcing a warm cup of tea into his stiff hands. They sit in the living room, Fuyumi bouncing on her mother’s lap. Touya is occupying himself with some wooden blocks and a plush version of his father, the two-year-old happy to be left to his own devices.

Brushing Enji off was easy; Rei is a whole other story. Especially when he’s been dodging her out of guilt for missing their biweekly theatre trips. And then continuing to dodge her out of guilt for avoiding her.

And unlike Enji, Rei approaches him with genuine, unquestionable concern.

How can he explain this without mentioning the whole past life business? Lying is off the table; Todoroki Zuko isn’t any better at it than Prince Zuko was. Half-truths, thankfully, he could always manage.

“I’ve always had night terrors; my parents even took me to see doctors for them,” he confesses, finding it hard to look Rei in the eye. Instead, he watches his nephew dutifully stack bricks before ramming his Endeavour plushy into them, mumbling some heroic scenario. “Most of them end with the left side of my face getting burnt. It feels like a prominition.”

It’s not, a part of him wants to whisper, confide. It's a story he lived recoloured with new experiences and doubts. He’s burned before. He’s had these same night terrors before as well. It’s a relief that, unlike during his brief return to Caldera, Uncle Iroh never features in them.

Yet, he isn’t lying. The nightmares and the stranger in the mirror combine into a bizarre certainty. He isn’t meant to live unbranded. Prince Zuko is still a part of him, allowed no rest when he abandoned his duty so early.

A morbid bit of him wonders if the others would even recognize him without his scar. 

“Well, there’s no need to take matters into your own hands,” Rei points out after his confession, hand reaching out to cradle his left cheek. It is soft and unnaturally cold. It feels like the ice packs Katara would make for them at the beach house on Ember Island. Or like the chilly breeze of the poles right before the wind turns biting and frigid. 

Her tone carries that same chill, politely forcing him to listen.

Fuyumi’s tiny hands feel the same way when they slap at his cheeks in toddler wonder.

“Fuyumi inherited your quirk,” he dumbly states, not meeting Rei’s eyes. Graciously, she allows the change of topic.

“Funnily enough, she also has my hair,” she notes, running a hand over the baby’s thin strands. Most of them are the snow white of the Himura family. A few specks are dark red outliers, a sprinkle of Todoroki blood upon the snow. 

“She has a bit of Enji hair. Maybe her quirk will be some kind of small combo of you two?” He muses, wrinkling his nose at his baby niece. She giggles with an Agni-blessed smile. “Not that it would matter, my niece will be amazing either way,” he says with a bit of song to his voice, leaning into the baby’s space.

Brown eyes twinkle with infant joy, pudgy hands reaching for his hair. He leans away immediately, very aware of just how viciously those tiny fingers can pull. Touya was an excellent teacher in that aspect.

Rei huffs and pulls Fuyumi closer to herself. 

“Thank you for helping me look after them, Zuko. They love playing with their uncle,” Rei says, letting Fuyumi play with her fingers as an apology for saving Zuko’s hair.

“That’s what uncles do,” he dismisses, eyes straying to Touya. He’s rebuilding the blocks into a building for his Endeavour to reduce to rubble again. The boy looks so serious as he glares at a piece that refuses to balance, that he can’t help but chuckle.

Zuko feels the flames before they form. A tiny burst scorches the wooden block and sticks to Touya’s palm, stealing all the boy's focus. Tears and hiccups erupt as the flame doesn’t go out even as the boy tries shaking off the foreign warmth. Panic builds with every second, joined by a growing wail of pure terror.

Rei startles and moves to pick up her son, but Zuko stops her, reaching out and pulling away the flame. With careful ministrations, he guides it into a clumsy dragon that swirls towards the ceiling before bursting into harmless sparks.

His nephew, immediately enraptured and shocked out of his mounting terror, hiccups between claps and giggles. He toddles over to his uncle and mom, grasping at Zuko’s shirt in demand, all previous panic forgotten.

Zuko sighs in relief at the reaction. It wouldn’t do for Touya to be afraid of fire with his quirk.

And he was not in the mood to deal with two frightened toddlers. More often than not, Touya crying is taken by Fuyumi as a sign she should follow suit.

“Again! Zuzu again!” His nephew pleads. Somehow the nickname managed to haunt him into this life. The first time Touya called out to him caused such a tumultuous mix of awe and horror, Zuko had to flee. Now he barely reacts, practiced in the art of focusing on the joy of his nephew’s attention instead of the high-pitched giggling in his memories.

He looks to Rei for permission. She returns the lighter she confiscated at the start of their discussion with a raised brow.

As he forms a bigger, more detailed dragon for his nephew and niece to marvel at, he feels Rei examining him. It makes his skin crawl a bit, but he does his best not to bristle. She’s a kind and intelligent woman and doesn’t deserve an outburst from him for something so small. 

“Zuko, I can’t stop you from doing these things or your night terrors,” she finally speaks up as he transitions from dragons to a tiger. It’s so strange to have just tigers, and just ducks, and just turtles. “But when it feels like too much, you can talk to me. I’ll listen even if I don’t fully understand. We need you safe and whole, Zuko. What would Touya and Fuyumi do without their uncle?”

How underhanded. Zuko huffs, but gives Rei an exasperated smile. 

“I’ll try remembering that next time,” he acquiesces, returning all his attention to keeping the leaping fire tiger out of reach of the two toddlers trying to pet it.

UA is a clusterfuck of loud personalities and louder egos. Maybe it should have been expected, with the way UA’s entrance exam was essentially a competition to find the best, but maybe the “best” needed to shut up and sit down.

No wonder his crew hated him. You’d need to be a saint to tolerate an explosive, loudmouthed brat with an ego problem. Uncle Iroh definitely was one. 

Zuko, clearly, is not.

It’s only been a week, and he already dreams of setting half his class on fire. Everyone keeps asking about his brother. Very few of them got the message that he wanted to be left alone after the first day of him ignoring every inane question. 

A small percentage of those who bother him seem to do it with friendship in mind. It reminds him of Aang’s need to be friends with everyone in a way that buzzes under his skin. He tries to be nicer when turning them down, but that seems to only encourage them, much to his growing despair.

The rest want to know what Endeavour’s little brother is made of. The rest are going to learn a very painful lesson. 

Their teacher promised them a combat simulation, a chance to experience fighting with and against quirks and to try on their costumes. The latter is why no one in the twenty or so students surrounding him is willing to shut up and calm down. 

The excitement of seeing their dream hero getup brought to life seems to be too much for most fifteen-year-olds. Zuko himself is satisfied with how well Enji’s support team replicated his plans. His older brother hadn’t cared much for his hero costume beyond handing it over for others to deal with. A relief, since Zuko is sure the flashy number two hero wouldn’t have approved. 

The centrepiece is a replica of his Blue Spirit mask. It’s altered to be made up of a mouthpiece and headpiece, allowing him to take both halves off at once or only one of the two. A way to ensure he can always calm someone down by showing them either a “friendly” smile or his “warm” eyes without revealing his face fully. It was Rei’s idea, along with those particular descriptors. He has a feeling the suggestion came from how many compilations there are of children bursting into tears around Endeavour online.

The rest of his costume is also a replication of the Blue Spirit. Black loose cloth wound tight where it would get in the way but still comfortable to move in. Armour is a happy addition to his look. Reinforced fabric with black matte steel plates forms a chest piece that stays miraculously silent. His boots and gloves are similarly reinforced, with steel caps on his knuckles added for an extra mean punch. But thankfully, Endeavour’s team heeded his request to focus on stealth. 

The most crucial addition, though, is the black belt carrying all the little things he may need and supplies for a minimal first-aid kit. He still had his boots made with space for an extra knife or lock pick, but having an organized belt of helpful little gadgets is an upgrade he’s pleased with. Especially since this world boasts quite a collection of tools that can help make him a pain to any unsuspecting idiot. 

And he gets to try each one out on his unsuspecting classmates. He’s already garnered multiple comments about his “ninja costume” and startled looks when he silently passed someone to get to the front of their group. Five whole jabs about living in his brother’s shadow and four more about not living up to expectations. A couple even about his suit being villainous.

Which is fair. The Blue Spirit had been an antagonistic character in Love Amongst the Dragons and an absolute nightmare for the Fire Nation Army. It’s honestly probably cheating to reprise his little outlaw persona in this life and simply rebrand him as a hero. But he’s not eager to think of anything new, and a part of him wants to reclaim the Blue Spirit as a real positive figure.

Freeing Aang was probably the single most important decision in his life. Even if it wasn’t for the noblest of reasons. However, that was one of the only honourable acts he completed in that mask. The Earth Kingdom called him a hero for it when to most he was no better than a roadside crook. In this life, maybe he can live up to that title.

Their teacher praises their costumes, stroking egos that do not need stroking, and explains the exercise. They are restricted to a single building and must work in teams of four to eliminate each other by either rendering someone unable to fight or snatching their flag. The flag is a small ribbon that can be tied anywhere on their person, but must be visible. 

Zuko ties his ribbon around his neck and finishes the exercise in seven minutes, taking down four of the five opponents. He slips away as his teammates deal with a student with a bull mutation that charges them first thing at round start.

A girl with a water quirk is easily swept off her feet before she can even try to aim for him. He snatches the ribbon from her wrist a second later.

The annoying ass that wouldn’t stop pointing out how much weaker Zuko’s quirk was than his tries to catch him with a clumsy fireball after hearing the scuffle. The flames are sidestepped without any need for his quirk, and Zuko drives his fist into the brat’s stomach. A second ribbon is added to his collection.

Another enemy comes at him with a deadly-looking swing that shatters the concrete Zuko had stood on. The student is large, and though his punches are powerful, they aren’t controlled. It’s easy to snatch his ribbon from where it’s tied around his head while the large boy struggles to recover from his own attack.

The fourth ribbon comes from a startled girl who stands and gapes at him as he rushes her. She tries to erect a force field between them at the last second, but he dodges around the wall in two quick steps and ends the round.

His teammates managed to subdue the charging bull, mostly with the efforts of a tall blond kid tying him up in fibres from his Jean jacket. They gape at him and at the four students he single-handedly defeated.

Annoyingly enough, he realizes he didn’t get to use any of the gadgets added to his arsenal. Smoke bombs would have been really fun to throw around. 

Even more annoying, though, is how the class shifts at his display and the tagalong he gains that refuse to leave him alone. The fabric boy declares him a rival and worthy opponent, completely refusing to leave him to his own devices. He’s quiet in his determined assault on Zuko’s personal walls, but persistent in a way no one else dares to be, even when Zuko resorts to hiding in trees. 

Eventually, Zuko’s rebuffs of Hakamata stop being gentle or polite. He spits curses and scowls. A part of him shamefully uses the tagalong as a punching bag for the frustrations he wouldn’t dare show at home. 

But the stubborn idiot gives as good as he gets and spends months on his crusade to force Zuko’s walls down. When the sports festival is announced, Zuko is the one to suggest they train together.

Four-year-old Touya is the biggest fan of his hero suit. Rei records a video of him running around in Zuko’s mask, jumping out from behind things at invisible villains. Uncle Zuko is renamed Ninja Uncle Zuko before he is finally crowned Uncle Blue, because Touya is also the biggest fan of his hero name.

He demonstrates the costume to his sister-in-law and her children a month into his first term at UA. School has kept him busy, reducing the time he spends with his nephew and niece. It doesn’t hit him that he missed them until Touya and Fuyumi hug him tight and beg him to play with them the moment he steps through the door.

Homework was reduced in light of the approaching sports festival, so luckily he’s free to spend time with his favourite nephew and niece. He’s not too excited at the prospect of a staged competition. Particularly, one-on-one fights.

The kids’ antics are a very effective distraction. 

For all that Touya loves his mask and mysterious Blue Spirit persona, Fuyumi is terrified of him. When he puts the costume on in full, Touya greets him with squeaks of joy, while Fuyumi buries herself in her mother’s arms.

It kind of hurts, but the mask is meant to be threatening. Ever since he found out about underground heroes, he knew that’s what he’d be. And underground heroes were better off not looking friendly or nice.

“Fuyumi, don’t be dumb! It’s Uncle Zuko!” Touya tries to coax his sister. The little girl just continues to hide. 

“Touya, don’t call your little sister dumb; she’s just scared. Uncle Zuko’s mask is a bit scary,” Rei gently scolds, humour clearly written on her face. Zuko is a bit at a loss on what to do and silently curses the woman for finding it amusing.

“But it’s just Uncle Zuko!” Touya protests, poking at his cowering sister.

“But she can’t see that,” is the pointed reply, and Zuko gets the joke. Rei must be feeling pretty proud of herself. 

He unclips the top half of his mask, revealing the upper half of his face and leaving the Blue Spirit’s menacing grin to hide the rest.

“Fuyumi, it’s me,” he gently calls out, waiting for those warm brown eyes to turn to him. Startled brown meets gold, and Fuyumi slowly reaches for him. He hoists the three-year-old up, gently spinning till she giggles. 

“See! It’s just Uncle Zuko in a mask!” Touya crows when he sets the little girl down. The boy raises his arm expectantly, and Zuko obliges with a sigh. He spins his nephew a bit quicker, until the kid whoops from the twirling.

“Who would have expected the fiercesome Blue Spirit to be such a softie?” Rei jokes, happy to observe his lame antics as he tries to entertain the kids. 

“Nuh-uh, Mom, he’s not lame! The Blue Spirit can scare any bad guy into pissing their pants!” Touya declares, trying to salvage his dignity. “Right? Right?” 

The plea for confirmation somewhat ruins the defence, but Zuko appreciates it either way. 

“Sure, but only bad guys,” he easily agrees. Although Aang looked ready to piss himself when he first entered his cell. So maybe not only bad guys.

Touya somehow grins even wider at the confirmation. Then he starts begging to see his swords, and Zuko is back to struggling. Rei does not offer any help in convincing her son not to try and play with his uncle’s very real and very sharp weapons.

“Are you still planning to operate underground?" Enji asks, hands folded on his desk. Like most discussions they’ve had about Zuko’s hero future, this one is happening in his older brother’s home office. 

All the paperwork on his desk is an excellent reminder why Zuko doesn’t want to deal with his own agency.

“Yes, I’m proficient in stealth and combat. I’m also a much better fit for covert operations,” Zuko calmly answers, very aware of how that’s the opposite of what Enji wants to hear. 

The sport festival ended with him scoring third, much to his brother’s and the public’s disappointment. A lot was expected from Endeavour’s younger brother. A lot that was hard to accomplish with no fire available for manipulation and an opponent that can turn your own clothes against you.

Hakamata’s control of his quirk improved drastically since their first combat training. Having trained with him, Zuko knew a few tricks out of his binds, but most relied on either available fire or the clothes being made of weaker material. Hakamata made sure to practice plenty with the durable UA gym uniforms beforehand.

It stung a bit to lose, but the multiple strikes he landed that almost drove Hakamata out of the ring were pretty good in his opinion. He managed to throw off his shirt at the start, buying himself time to try a full frontal assault and end the round before his opponent could catch a breath.

The commentators had commended him for his efforts. Hakamata had even confessed that if Zuko hadn’t forced him to learn quirkless combat, he would have lost then and there. It was a balm to his wounded pride. 

Enji had scoffed at their words and refused to acknowledge Zuko for a week.

The result of the sports festival was a flood of offers from agencies still wanting to profit from Endeavour’s younger brother, along with a few quieter agencies reaching out with internships and the UA principal having a very interesting conversation with him. Whether he lost or won, the outcome is satisfactory in his eyes. 

“Principal Nedzu offered me an internship with him. He believes I have a lot of potential as an underground hero and wants to train me in analysis and information gathering,” Zuko continues, ignoring how Endeavour's glare grows darker.

“I offered you one as well,” Enji states through gritted teeth.

“Your agency doesn’t support underground heroes,” Zuko deflects, staring his brother right in the eyes.

“Underground heroes earn a pittance in comparison to other heroes and aren’t present on any rankings,” Enji growls, hands forming fists that bang against his desk. “All you need is a partner with a quirk that generates fire, and you could dominate any battle. I’ve fought you, Zuko; this is a waste!”

“I want to be a hero to help, to save others. Not to be some show pony for the cameras,” Zuko shoots back, temper boiling behind each word. Being Ozai’s crown prince was enough parading around for two lifetimes. 

“You could help more people if you didn’t insist on skulking like some crook! You don’t even use your quirk! I’ve talked to the UA staff; they call you outstanding. Capable of winning most fights without a single flame. What in the world do you think you’re doing?”

“Is it so wrong to keep my quirk to what’s necessary? I’m not the type to flaunt,” Zuko reaches out, tearing away the angry crown of flames forming over his brother’s shoulders. It’s childish, but so is activating your quirk to seem bigger for an argument.

“Ruin your life then!” Enji roars, fists slamming down on his desk once more. “Let’s see what happens when you wake up from your silly game.”

“I’ll thank myself for finally being something other than a footnote in your success story,” Zuko declares before slamming the door and storming away.

He needed to call Principal Nedzu to confirm his internship details.

Spirits were something he treated with the caution of one once cursed to feel seasickness on land for five months. 

They were ever present in his search for the Avatar. Their particularly cryptic way of talking never meshed well with his temper, which led to the seasickness incident when he was thirteen. Bandages still hiding his father-gifted branding, he angered one before his Uncle could intervene. He was under the curse for two months. 

A single toe set on shore sent him into a nausea-filled nightmare. And he got lucky that time. All things considered, the spirit took mercy on him, letting his rudeness slide with only a minor affliction.

The memory kept him mostly respectful of anything spiritual they encountered in their search after that. As did the endless lectures on spirits Uncle Iroh gave him afterwards.

Principal Nedzu is not a spirit, only an animal with a quirk. A little weasel-bear that can talk circles around anyone, and probably has a long history of tricking people into agreeing to things they shouldn’t agree to.

He treats the principal with the utmost respect.

“What a pleasant surprise,” Nedzu happily comments, sipping the tea Zuko prepared for them. “I hadn’t expected you to be such a connoisseur of tea.”

“My sister-in-law enjoys it, and I’ve been corrupted into liking it,” though there is still a part of him that can’t stop thinking of it as dirty leaf water. A different part of him desperately grasps at everything his Uncle taught him, refusing to let those memories fade.

“I must say a thank you to Ms. Todoroki then. Now, I believe we have many matters to discuss,” Setting his cup down, Nedzu focuses his beady eyes on Zuko. He suppresses a shudder.

“Yes,” Zuko nods, fidgeting with his own cup of tea and running through everything he prepared for this meeting. “I want to learn more about covert methods of information gathering and quirk analysis. I also want to know more about how exactly underground heroes operate, outside of the fact that they're not really known.”

For all that the Blue Spirit was seen as a phantom, a shadow you were lucky to catch a glimpse of, his information gathering usually took one of two forms. Eavesdropping on loudmouthed officials, or creeping into head offices to read, or at times steal, important correspondence. 

Zuko doubts those methods will be quite as effective here. Not when there aren’t clearly labelled command tents and most important documents are locked in password-secured digital files.

Quirk analysis is important for a similar reason. When fighting earthbenders, everyone knew to watch the ground under their feet. With waterbenders, he’s learned to be aware of every body of water around and watch their elbows, wrists and shoulders more than their footwork. And when facing Aang, he made sure to watch the airbender’s arms for sweeping gestures that would send him flying.

His crew wasn’t the most well-trained, but one twelve-year-old wouldn’t have been as big of a problem if they actually knew how to fight him. Here, nearly everyone had a power, and they were all different. He had done his best to figure out how his classmates fought, but they still caught him off guard half the time, forcing him to improvise. When facing villains, he won’t have the luxury of weeks of observation to figure out what makes their powers tick.

“The first two are easy enough to teach and train. Your grades might not be the shiniest, but your battle instincts are quite something. I’ve seen experienced heroes barely match your level of awareness and reaction,” Nedzu compliments, beaming. There is something hidden in those beady eyes that Zuko does his best to ignore. Spirits are best left to their own devices when possible.

“As for how underground heroes operate, I’ll give you a quick overview and leave the rest to be covered by your teachers and work-study in second year. You have plenty of time to decide what kind of hero you’re going to be,” The message is clear; don’t be hasty. But Zuko was never the best with plans or changing course. Especially when he doesn’t have a set goal. No title to chase, no honour to earn back through an impossible quest, and no world-ending adversary to defeat.

A pro-hero is a position that allows him to do what’s right, while giving him the freedom to fight and burn. There was a brief point where he considered being something else, something that didn’t pull at invisible scars or leave his hands as calloused as the Prince’s. However, it hadn’t felt right to consider himself in such a position, and Enji’s expectations sealed the deal.

“I will not change my mind,” he confidently states, meeting the principal's curious stare. The unfathomable creature grins and pulls out a thick binder.

“Well, then we better get right to it! This is a collection of quirks from previous students; come up with a way to counter each one by tomorrow!”

Zuko stares at the Agni-damned rat, waiting for a punchline that never comes.

Touya has a pink burn on his hand. Before Zuko left for his classes, his nephew gushed about training with his dad today.

“Fireflake, what happened?” he asks, managing to rein in his growing rage just enough to sound more concerned than angry. 

“Not you too! Everyone’s making a big deal of it!” Touya exasperates, trying to tug the burn away from sight. “Dad stopped training early, and it doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

It’s a lie; the burn must sting.

Yet, Touya isn’t necessarily wrong; it’s not a bad burn. Burns like this were common in the Fire Nation; most children ended up with one at some point or another because fire was everywhere. Their natural resistance to being burned could only do so much. In fact, firebending children often suffered from worse burns than these, during missteps when training or as punishment for them.

But just because it was common didn’t make it okay, and Touya wasn’t a firebender, or in the Fire Nation. 

“Touya, what happened?” He’s firmer this time, a long-neglected tone of the Avatar’s firebending teacher leaking through.

“My fire burnt me,” comes the answer, his nephew avoiding all eye contact. 

A firebender burnt by his own flame was the only thing more shameful than one afraid of it. A sign of Agni’s damnation.

But again, Touya was no firebender. There are no spirits here to damn him, not that Zuko would let them. Something is wrong with his quirk.

“What did your father say about it?” He asks, finally letting go of his nephew’s arm. The burn was treated and a salve applied. It should fade without even leaving a scar.

“He and Mom are going to take me to a doctor tomorrow,” Touya mulishly explains. “I don’t get it though. It’s so small, and it’s not like I can’t train with it!” 

Zuko feels an inexplicable dread at those words. How many times had he fought his mother to attend his lessons while sick? How many times had he snapped at his Uncle for refusing to train him after the burn?

They aren’t perfect parallels. Again, the burn isn’t bad, and Touya is right. It wouldn’t really get in the way of training as long as he keeps his flames away from the tender skin. 

Yet, his nephew is only five. Shouldn’t five-year-olds be more wary of getting hurt? Sure, they bounce back quickly from injuries, but there should be at least some caution. Burns are hardly as simple as bruises or scraped knees.

“You might get hurt again, and it might be worse next time,” he explains, grasping at his words to somehow prevent a possibility that’s starting to feel like reality. Self-preservation was something Zuko lacked till the day he let lightning rip through his lungs and heart. “We don’t want that.”

He doesn’t know what else to say. Iroh never managed to get the message across to him. 

“But it’s not a big deal! I just want to train with Dad! He said I could be better than even All Might!” Touya cries out, a day's frustration bubbling forth. Oh Agni, he just wants to make his dad proud of him, doesn’t he? Train with Enji and reach new heights, let his father see exactly what he’s capable of. 

Tears are forming in Touya’s eyes that the boy stubbornly holds back. Zuko gently presses down on his nephew’s head and ruffles his hair. There’s a growing patch of white there, Rei showing herself among the Enji. 

He once wondered what Fuyumi’s double-toned hair meant. He wonders if his guess had been correct back then. 

Crouching to make eye contact, Zuko stares into those bright blue eyes and tries not to choke on all he wants to say. 

“But to train you have to be healthy; you can’t hurt yourself and keep training, Touya,” it’s not enough. He can see it’s not enough. “I’m sure your dad will keep training you,” because if his quirk is burning him, Touya needs to learn control. Enji has to teach him control as soon as possible. “But you have to keep yourself safe and whole. That’s all we could ever want from you, Fireflake.”

Those aren’t the right words. He can tell. They haven’t convinced Touya of anything. At most, they comforted him with the promise of more training and discomforted him with their sappiness. 

Prince Zuko would have scoffed at these words and thrown himself back into his katas and spars.

The prince’s nephew refuses to meet his eyes and pretends to consider them. Zuko accepts a half-hearted hug from the boy, fighting to keep himself out of the whirlpool of dread spinning through his mind.

For all his tension with Enji, Zuko had acknowledged that his brother was a good father. He paid attention to both Touya and Fuyumi and was never cruel to them, if maybe a bit busy. So naturally, at the first sign of trouble, his brother was proving him wrong.

“You have to be joking. You’re just not going to train him. Let him burn himself as he stumbles around trying to figure it out alone?” He interrogates Enji, uncaring of the work he’s no doubt disturbing. 

Touya told him after his father blew off training with him for a third time. He exploded when Zuko asked him about his progress, calling him a liar with angry tears soaking Zuko’s shoulder. 

It was unexpected. He thought his brother had common sense.

“He doesn’t have flame resistance,” Enji states like he’s delivering a convict's death sentence, glaring at Zuko as if that could scare him away. “He inherited Rei’s resistance to freezing temperatures instead. He won’t be able to use his flames; they’ll kill him.”

“That won’t stop him, Enji. He’s going to keep trying, and he’s going to keep burning, until you teach him control. You’re just giving up!” Zuko yells. It's been a while since he’s been angry like this without trying to stamp the fire out. Reason is a thin string on the verge of snapping, and if he were still a firebender, he’d be breathing smoke. 

“I don’t know how!” Enji explodes, beating Zuko to the punch. He stands, looming over Zuko, matching his snarl. “His fire is stronger than mine, but his body is weaker. His body won’t survive the damage of trying to train him! He needs to stop using his quirk. That’s all we can do at this point.”

What a spectacle, the proud number two hero resorting to comforting himself with lies.

“Don’t be an idiot. Do you really think he’ll just stop? Would you, Enji? Have you ever stopped just because you got hurt? Get thrown through a building, and you're back on your feet in two days. He’ll keep trying because that’s the goal you set for him! He knows what you wanted him to be, and he’s going to do his damnedest to prove he can do it,” To show his father that he was worth something. That he could still be worthy, even if that required burning himself to ash. “If you want to run away, I’ll train him.”

“What do you know about fire, Zuko? You have talent maybe, but you don’t train your quirk, and if you do, I can’t trust it when I don’t know your methods. How do you plan to train him when you’ve never trained yourself properly? The training we did together was almost all sparring. And I know you won’t tell me where you learned to fight the way you do. I can’t trust you with my son!”

“Are you seriously bringing that up now, Enji? You know how I control my flames. You know I can train Touya safely. I can pull the flames away from him before they burn him.” Zuko points out through gritted teeth. It’s so bitter. After all these years, his brother brings these things up now, brings them up to win an argument.

“Leave it alone, Zuko. Focus on UA,” Enji tries to end the conversation.

“He’s not going to stop, Enji. And I’m not going to either. I’ll train him with or without your permission,” Zuko declares instead of leaving. He needs his brother to understand that ignoring Touya’s problem is a mistake. Leaving him to his devices won’t work, and Zuko will step in if Enji won’t.

His brother glares at him with something wild in his eyes. 

“Get out, Zuko. I have work to do.”

A day later, Zuko’s belongings are moved to an apartment next to UA and the property’s gate no longer opens for him. Enji sends one of his sidekicks to pick him up from UA and tell him about the move. 

He’s not allowed near his nephew or niece without Endeavour’s approval, and he’s hired staff to enforce this.

The apartment is large, filled with everything he could ever need. It even has a home gym. Zuko shreds the punching bag the moment he’s left alone. Once his anger isn’t all-consuming, he spends the rest of the day sneaking around the pro-heroes his brother set to keep him out.

Once it's dark enough, he manages to bypass all the security with less effort than it took to break into Pohuai Stronghold.

“I’m sorry, Zuko, but you need to leave,” Rei says when she finds him in the living room. Fuyumi is with her but doesn’t run to him like she usually does. “Enji made things clear.”

She looks so tired. When Zuko confronted his brother, he hadn’t known about the pregnancy. If he had, Touya's training wouldn’t have been the only focus. 

Didn’t Enji say the kid’s quirks wouldn’t matter to him?

He wants to say something. Defend himself or reassure her that Enji can’t control him. But it was comically easy to remove Zuko from the equation. And if he needs to, Enji has an entire agency he can direct against him, including a legal team to handle restraining orders and emancipation. Endeavour’s PR team would find a way to spin things in a better light if needed. Endeavour now has children to soften his image, and Zuko is easy to frame as just a rebellious, destructive teenager.

Nedzu's lessons were very effective in conveying just how powerful a public image and a team of lawyers can be. 

“Are you all okay?” He simply asks, looking around in hopes of catching a glimpse of Touya. Did he have more burns? Were they getting worse?

“We’ll be okay, Zuko,” Rei tries to reassure, a small smile that’s more sad than anything else. 

They’ll be okay. Will be instead of are. 

Endeavour’s patrol will end soon, and Zuko doesn’t think he could see his brother and not do something drastic. For all his anger, he isn’t about to fight Enji in front of his wife and kids.

“Please call me if you need anything. Anything at all, Rei,” He says instead of the hundreds of things he wants. She looks so tired.

“Bye, bye, Uncle Zuko,” Fuyumi says as he turns to leave. He gives her his gentlest smile and starts thinking of ways around his brother’s stupidity.

Hakamata cautiously approaches him, water bottle in hand. 

“That was a rough fight,” he comments neutrally, setting the water in front of Zuko’s curled-up form. 

He grunts in lieu of answering, not lifting his head off his knees. Hakamata does not leave, instead making himself comfortable on the grass beside him.

“I’m surprised Hisoka still has the guts to taunt you like that. This is his seventh broken nose from you. If the two of you keep this up, Recovery Girl might hunt you down.”

Zuko keeps quiet, fighting to calm the venom on his tongue. Nearly caving Hisoka’s face in hadn’t managed to do anything to quiet the blood in his ears. He doesn’t want to snap at Hakamata again. It’d be the fifth time this week, and surely even Hakamata Tsunagu has a limit to his patience.

So he sits quietly as his friend talks about their day so far, and homework assignments, and future internships. The other knows not to push, not to ask, or give comfort.

Zuko lets the words wash over him and breathes. It’s not enough to sweep the worries or anxiety away, but for a moment it lets him focus on something else. Something that isn’t how quiet his apartment is and the exact number of days since he’s been home.

Natsuo is born, and he isn’t allowed to visit. Rei gives him a call a week later, sending a photo of the newborn and describing the baby’s already clear personality. She tells him that Fuyumi has been doing amazing at school and that Touya has trouble connecting with his peers.

Apparently, his nephew is also now sporting half a head of white hair. She doesn’t send pictures, and he tries not to focus on why that could be. 

He wants to ask about his quirk. About his burns. About what Enji is doing to help him. About how Rei is doing, how she’s dealing with the entire situation.

Instead, he tells her about his classes and how his work study is going. 

They only talk for half an hour before Rei has to go. 

Zuko breaks into the Todoroki property that night and watches through the windows, desperately trying to catch a glimpse of anyone. The only one he sees is Enji, who returns home late, much later than his patrol would have run.

Before entering the house, his brother must sense his glare, head whipping around to look for a threat. Enji doesn’t spot him, but Zuko leaves anyway. The night is too quiet to ignore the burning indignation seeing his brother ignites.

He’ll try asking Nedzu for help tomorrow. His mentor had a way with legal barriers and running circles around powerful idiots.

Life moves on, and Enji continues to keep him at arm’s length. He never got around to asking his mentor for advice, thinking better of bringing someone else into the Todorokis’ family issues right before entering his office. Their dysfunction needs to be treated carefully, or it becomes the next sensational headline.

He calls Rei at least once a month to check in, but her assurances feel emptier each time. Sometimes she puts Fuyumi on the phone, and he gets to hear his niece ramble about her school and whatever topic caught her fancy at the time. Something goes unsaid there, too.

He only gets to talk to Touya on the boy’s birthday. The little Fireflake doesn’t have a lot to tell him, not when he asks about school or any friends. It’s on his tongue to ask about Touya’s quirk or whether he’s still training, but Enji, or someone reporting to him, is no doubt listening, and Zuko doesn’t want to lose these phone calls.

When he graduates from UA, he finally gets to meet his youngest nephew. The Todorokis are there for his ceremony, and Enji even lets him join them for a small celebratory dinner. Zuko spends the entire evening biting his tongue to not comment on the bandages covering Touya’s arms. 

Instead, he throws Enji glares and subtly tugs at his stupid new fire beard. 

His nephews and niece take up most of his attention, though. Rei lets him hold Natsuo, and Fuyumi hovers near him. Touya interrogates him about his plans as a hero, though the kid isn’t as impressed at his plans to work in the background as he once was. He parrots what Enji told him after his first sports festival with the same disdain colouring his tone.

It hardly matters in the face of finally seeing and talking to his eldest nephew.

But the bandages on Touya’s arms peek out of his sleeves, winking white cotton. Zuko has to leave early or risk exploding.

He moves out of the apartment Enji stuck him in after his first few paychecks. Underground hero work may not pay much, but bounty hunting does. It’s relatively common among underground heroes to make some extra cash by dragging high bounties into police stations. 

The public doesn’t hear of him, but society's underbelly quickly starts filling with whispers. The Blue Spirit becomes a known name in bars and alleyways. A blue-faced grinning demon that silently completes his hunts. 

His reputation affords him respect and, very quickly, enemies. The defeat of those enemies boosts his reputation, and a cycle forms. It results in some close calls and a couple lost blades, but he manages to make it out each time. 

In his first year, he closes almost as many cases as Enji did in his. It’s a significant accomplishment for an underground hero who isn’t called in to deal with public spectacles and the typical daytime rabble.

It becomes routine to receive calls from the police about cases they want his say in, or for hero agencies to request him for recon. Tsunagu, or Best Jeanist as he’s come to call himself against Zuko’s better judgement, makes a habit of recommending him to his mentor every chance he gets. Other underground heroes approach him as well, naming Nedzu as their point of contact, and he ends up much more social than he anticipated.

He even ends up working with Endeavour’s agency once. Not with the big man himself, thankfully, but it’s still plenty awkward since some of the sidekicks remember him from his first attempts to break back into the Todoroki property.

In his second year of hero work, Nedzu invites him back to UA to congratulate him on his outstanding performance. News of the Blue Spirit even trickles out into the public, though naturally no one connects him to Endeavour. Underground heroes are rarely covered with much detail, even when they are involved in something high-profile. There is hardly any interest in heroes that don’t appear on the charts, much less their families.

And Enji doesn’t bother connecting himself to some backalley nobody.

Rei calls him a year after Shouto is born. He tries not to feel hurt at having heard about the birth from the news first. 

The baby has red and white hair, and they managed to confirm his quirk allows him to produce both fire and ice. A perfect mix of his parents.

Touya had tried attacking his baby brother. Enji decided to keep Shouto separate from the other kids.

He calls Enji an hour after his call with Rei. It’s not enough to calm him, only to regain some semblance of rationality.

“Touya isn’t going to stop,” is the first thing out of his mouth when Enji picks up after his third call. “Enji, let me see my nephews and niece and let me help Touya. Even if you refuse to acknowledge me as a hero, you can’t deny all I’ve managed in these last two years. Isn’t this enough to prove I’m capable?”

“This has nothing to do with you, Blue Spirit,” Endeavour states and hangs up.

He finds Touya on Sekoto Peak, burning bright and proud. It’s impressive what the boy manages to do with his flames when Enji hasn’t done anything to train him. 

Yet, eventually, Touya’s torso starts to pink where the flames form, and Zuko grasps them, pulling them away and moulding them into a dragon for the sake of dramatics.

“Uncle Blue,” Touya whispers in surprise, staring at where he’s perched on a tree. He’s still in his hero costume, but he took off the top half of his mask to not look quite as demonic.

Zuko drinks in the sight of his nephew and tries to smother the mounting anger at all the burns that litter him. Someone has been treating them, but the sheer volume of shiny, reddened skin is too much. No doubt the boy spends his days itchy from the healing or wincing from the sting of hiding them under clothes. There’s just too many.

“Hey Fireflake,” he greets, helplessness bitter on his tongue. Why hadn’t he done this sooner? What was really stopping him?

Touya scowls, bright blue eyes sharpening into a biting glare. “Are you here to see Shouto? Want to see his amazing quirk?”

The older sibling, a failure. The younger, a perfect creation. Abandoned by a father with only power and ambition on his mind. No wonder Touya burns; Zuko knows how easily such kindling is lit.

“Learn any cool moves?” He asks instead of answering the question, jumping down to join his nephew on the ground. Touya eyes him, but ultimately calls on his flames once more. 

“I figured out a few,” He says with a growing smirk and far too much distrust in his eyes. He forms a small fist, flames growing into a blazing glove that greedily licks at the air around it. Zuko tears the flames away before they can start eating away at skin. The offence that spreads on his nephew’s face would be funny, if not for the hurt and resignation pooling in his eyes. 

“What?” He quietly asks, staring up at Zuko like he isn’t sure whether there’s a joke or not.

“You’re going to burn yourself,” he answers simply, preventing another attempt from Touya to set himself on fire. The scowl returns tenfold.

“Why is that all anyone cares about!? Fire burns! All of you act like it's a crime for me to practice my quirk. Mom, Dad, Fuyumi and even Natsuo,” That can’t be true since Natsuo’s only three and probably doesn’t fully understand what his older brother is doing, but Zuko keeps his mouth shut. “If you’re just going to try and stop me, then leave! Go away, Uncle Zuko.”

“Most people barely use their quirk in their day-to-day. Do you still want to be a hero?” He knows he does, but getting the kid to admit it might also get him to face the why of it. Make him question it.

“It’s why Dad made me,” Touya hisses out. “You know this, Uncle Zuzu.” Oh, that's a familiar mocking tone. “I just want to prove to Dad I’m not a failure, like he thinks I am. I just want him to see me,” His nephew finishes in a whisper, not meeting his eyes.

He wishes he could tell Touya about himself in full. Explain Prince Zuko and the Avatar and the Fire Lord. Make him understand that Zuko wasn’t talking out of his ass with his reassurances. But the story is still so unbelievable, and that makes it less than helpful in this situation.

“Burning yourself to a crisp won’t get you anywhere. You need to make fire without burning yourself,” Zuko plainly states. It’s clear that trying to stop Touya’s quest to get Endeavour’s attention would be pointless. A futile exercise that would lead to more distrust. It’s something Zuko knows intimately. So he motivates him like Iroh once did him; present a solution with minimal self-destruction, and let him throw himself at that.

He’d been stuck doing basic katas, sometimes doing them dry, for years in an attempt to perfect them before he lost patience and demanded faster methods to improve. Those katas lay the foundation of his growth much better than anything the royal tutors tried. 

Those katas let him practice firebending without flinching at his own flames. It’s better to start simple.

“You can ignite and fan the flames already. Learn to make them weak enough to not burn you.”

“I’m fine. They’re just burns,” Touya argues, glaring up at his uncle. 

“They’re why your father refuses to train you. And if you become a hero and burn yourself with each fight, you won’t last long,” Zuko explains. He needs to play into Touya’s need to please Enji. It’s the goal that keeps him pushing against his body’s limits. Zuko can hate it all he wants, but if he tries to convince Touya with anything else, it won’t work. Touya will have to be shown that his father isn’t someone to aspire towards after he isn’t speeding towards permanent nerve damage and a life-threatening infection. 

Why does history so insistently repeat itself?

“I’ll train with you,” he offers, quietly begging Touya to listen.

“No,” Touya rejects, glare growing fiercer. “Only father can train me. Could you even do it when you have to rely on others for your quirk?”

“Touya, my whole quirk is built on controlling flames,” Zuko points out, imploring his nephew to see reason. Knowing full well he won’t.

“Go away, Uncle Zuko,” Touya orders again and tries to resume his training. 

He leaves only five minutes later, after Zuko spends the entirety of that time extinguishing his quirk before the burns can form.

For the next five years, Zuko harasses Touya on Sekoto Peak. There is no set schedule that he’s managed to find for when Touya does his training, but it becomes a habit to visit Sekoto Peak whenever he can in the afternoons and evenings. Sometimes Touya acknowledges him. Most of the time he ignores him until he runs out of patience and leaves. 

Each time, Zuko pulls Touya’s flames away before they can start to burn him. The kid actually makes a lot of progress in terms of fighting Zuko’s quirk. If he’s really determined, Zuko has to focus harder than he ever did against anyone, even Enji, to tear the flames from Touya’s control.

Then for a month, Touya would leave just at the sight of Zuko at his training spot. It must have felt pointless when training would just turn into having his flames forcefully extinguished as soon as they formed.

It got to a point where Touya simply snapped. Three months into Zuko’s relentless interference, he burst into angry tears at the sight of him and lashed out with a flaming hand. 

What happened couldn’t be called a fight. Not when it’s an untrained nine-year-old against a pro hero.

The flames were easy to subdue, with Touya so focused on his anger, and a single step to the side kept him away from his nephew’s desperate punches. He never retaliated in any way, but the fight still ended quickly, Touya growing tired and even more frustrated.

Zuko joined him on the ground when Touya finally crumpled on himself after another missed punch. Silently, rubbing his back and not commenting on the restrained sobs, he let Touya slowly wind down.

They hadn’t talked even after Touya gathered himself. The boy just left, and Zuko let him.

The next day, Touya started asking questions. How to fix his punches, how to dodge like Zuko had, how easy it was for Zuko to steal his flames. Neither of them called it training or teaching. 

The sessions are hardly regular. Underground heroes do have some patrol schedules, but as the heroes best suited for undercover work or infiltration, a lack of public acknowledgement prevents many risks, they get called in a lot more for the delicate cases. Zuko especially managed to gain a reputation for efficient work with his stealth and the way the Blue Spirit is always masked. Very few actually know how to connect Todoroki Zuko with the underground hero. 

This means Touya is still building his pyre. He’s not always there to sweep the flames of the boy, and his nephew never had any plans to depend on him for that.

They don’t talk about the burns. They’re layered now, scarred skin burnt off to form deeper scars. And they must hurt and sting and chafe. Someone is still treating each one with gentle, attentive care, but that hardly helps if Touya doesn’t give his body the chance to heal.

He stays awake some nights, images of the angry red skin turning purple and dying swimming with his thoughts. Earth Kingdom natives had plenty of burns, as did Fire Nation soldiers. His own was a very clear and painful branding, but hardly the worst he had seen. And Touya didn’t seem to have any problem inflicting those burns on himself. 

It’s not that bad yet, of course. He’s at least managing to slow his nephew’s self-destruction a bit.

It is not enough.

It’s not enough at all. Not when the only real progress Touya managed to make in not burning himself is throwing fire darts. The little flames are formed and released in moments. Quick enough that at worst Touya earns himself a blister. 

It’s not nothing, and Zuko is happy for him. But it’s a single move, and Touya still isn't trying to cool his flames or even sticking to similar techniques.

The thing is, Zuko knows he should have started sooner. His sitting back when Enji threw him out was far too compliant. A very stupid mistake. No one has caught him on Sekoto Peak with Touya. He’s doing as he promised Enji he would, and his brother is none the wiser.

Why did he let Enji push him out of his nephews’ and niece’s lives? 

It’s a haunting thought accompanied by curtains of fire and booming orders. He drives it away by focusing on his nephew.

With a flick of his wrist, he puts out Touya’s hand before it can blister. 

“Ugh!” Touya flops miserably onto the ground, the cold not bothering him one bit. Zuko had to switch to his winter uniform weeks ago. He’s kind of jealous. “Are you ever going to stop?” Touya asks, glaring up at him with all the spite a thirteen-year-old can muster.

“No, control your flames or practice without them,” Zuko answers, the same way he had every other time his nephew asked. He gets a fire dart for his troubles, which he easily shifts away from.

“Father’s started training his perfect creation,” Touya darkly mutters after a while. Ah, there’s the reason for how long and aggressive this session was. “He’s never going to train me, is he? Not while Shouto’s around.”

For all that Zuko at times despised Azula, Touya’s relationship with Shouto is much worse. Mostly because there’s no relationship to speak of. Enji had isolated his youngest since birth. Zuko had memories of a giggly toddler, chubby and clumsy and horribly curious to contrast the viciousness that Azula tormented him with. All Touya has is a concept of the perfect child his father wanted and said father’s rejection.

“I know it’s not Shouto’s fault,” Touya continues, staring up into the cloudy sky. “I shouldn’t have attacked him that one time. But it’s not all my fault. Dad’s the one who’s started this. What kind of hero even is he? To make a bunch of children he just throws out?”

“A bad one,” Zuko answers, a bit surprised Touya is talking to him about this. But he’s never been one to look in a gifted ostrich-horse’s beak. “A really, really bad one.”

“Why did Mom let him make all of us failures? Why did you, Uncle Zuko? I know you were pretty small when he married Mom, but why don’t you stop them?” Touya asks softly, still staring up at the gray sky above. It’s an accusation. One Zuko’s been throwing at himself for the last five years.

“I was twelve when they got married,” His nephew turns to look at him, eyes still that haunting brilliant blue. “I spent the entire ceremony considering the pros and cons of punching your father in the balls.” 

Touya’s eyes go comically large, and he chokes on his next breath. Zuko watches him cough through a startled laugh. 

“I’m glad I didn’t. If I did it too hard, I might never have gotten to meet you or your siblings,” he continues while Touya calms down. “But I definitely should have stepped in more instead of letting Enji force me out. Something about him just… made it hard to stand against him.”

It’s not quite the reason, and it’s certainly not an excuse. There isn’t one. He left his sister-in-law, his friend, and her children in a bad situation. Enji is his brother, but he shouldn’t have expected so much from him. Not after the blatant refusal to see reason with Touya and getting kicked out for threatening to disobey him.

What a familiar mistake.

“I’m sorry, Fireflake,” an apology isn’t enough either, but he needs to own up to this. “You’re right, I should have done something. If you want, I can try beating the shit out of Enji now?” 

Touya is staring at him. Examining him and, from the look on the boy’s face, not quite understanding what he sees. Zuko meets that searching gaze with what he hopes is a soft smile and not a grimace. Only to realize that all Touya will see is the Blue Spirit’s snarl.

Hopefully, his eyes convey the message instead.

“You’d definitely lose,” Touya says after a bit, turning away so Zuko can’t see his face. 

“His fire is kind of pointless against me. You’ve felt what I can do,” Zuko points out, a bit offended against all odds. It’s expected for Touya to think his father would win, but Zuko’s pretty sure he has a trick for every move Enji could pull. He should at least be seen as a threat to Endeavour. Not someone who would definitely lose.

“But Endeavour has better control and more power than me. He’ll resist your quirk and blast you away,” is the rebuttal to his rebuttal.

“The last time we trained, it took at most five minutes to take your father’s flame from him.” He tactically doesn’t mention that this happened over a decade ago. “And we won’t be able to blast me; I have better fire resistance. So both our quirks will be pointless if we fight, and I have the better hand-to-hand technique. And swords.”

“Your fire resistance is stronger than dad’s?” Touya questions instead of acknowledging his argument. 

“Yeah, I can withstand higher temperatures,” He confirms anyway, carefully watching Touya’s reaction. He doesn’t seem upset at the news, which is a good reaction considering the boy’s physiology. 

In fact, instead he looks contemplative. After a few moments lost in thought, Touya stands up and turns to face Zuko on his tree. The kid sheds his shirt, revealing a nasty burn on his stomach that immediately draws Zuko’s eyes.

What is he-

“I found out something pretty cool. Could we check if this can beat your fire resistance?” Touya asks and ignites his stomach, just above that horrible burn. 

Zuko immediately reaches out to smother the flame, only to pause once it hits him what he’s seeing.

Touya burns blue, bright and brilliant and otherworldly.

There’s no need to test anything. Zuko knows all too well how such blue burns.

“I burned him, Zuko, I burned my baby,” Rei sobs into his ear, clawing at his back. He holds her, silently praying no one hears her and checks on their newly admitted patient. 

Breaking into a mental institution would not be a good look for the Blue Spirit. But that’s hardly a concern compared to what he’s hearing.

“And I put ice on it! I know what that does, I know it's wrong! I just needed to- to cool. He was screaming, Zuko, he was screaming. I hurt him, and he screamed. My poor Shouto,” His sister-in-law wails, and he tightens his arms around her in an attempt to provide some modicum of comfort. “Zuko, what have I done?”

It was Fuyumi who told him what happened. She called while he was at a stakeout, only getting to hear her message a day later. His little niece explained what happened through tears, begging him to find where her father took Rei. To make sure their mom was okay because Enji hadn’t bothered to tell his kids about anything. 

They thought their father threw her into prison.

Fuyumi ended her message by pleading for Zuko to come back. She told him she missed him. That she wanted him to meet Shouto and that Natsuo didn’t remember him anymore. 

That she was worried about Touya, who was only getting worse.

“The burn was treated; he’ll be okay, Rei,” he says because he doesn’t know how to comfort her. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do here. He doesn’t know what to do with a wailing, shattered spectre of a person he knew.

When he snuck into her room, she had been sitting on her bed. Her usual neat appearance was a mess, and her hair was tangled. For a split second, he saw coal-black hair and gold crusted armour, until Rei saw him and broke down in a way the phantom never would.

“His left eye. I burned his left eye,” she whispers, some sort of horror dawning on her. “Your dreams. You were right, oh god, Zuko, you were right! A premonition. Zuko, what have I done?” 

“No, Rei. My dreams had nothing to do with this,” they couldn’t have because they weren’t dreams. Just memories twisted by his new life. Nothing more, nothing less.

It didn’t matter that they returned recently. There weren’t any spirits in this world to play such cruel tricks. Just cruel coincidences.

“My baby, my poor baby,” Rei continues to whisper, sagging against him as she tires herself out. Carefully, he guides her back into bed, tucking her in. He’ll need to make a habit of visiting her, even if Enji forbids this, too. 

There’s a shuffle at the door. Zuko whips around, swords drawn.

As if summoned by thought, Enji stares at him from the dark hallway, faint moonlight not quite managing to illuminate his face. There’s a vase in his hands, familiar flowers neatly arranged. 

They don’t say a word, waiting for the other to make a move. 

Zuko sheathes his swords and opens the windows to leave the same way he came in.

“I’ll tell them to add you to the guest list,” Enji says from the doorway. 

Zuko grunts, perched on the windowsill. The facility is a bit away from the main city area, allowing for a beautiful view of the glowing streets below.

This isn’t the time or place for all the words flooding Zuko's lungs, or the flames burning in his palm. Rei needs her rest.

A trafficking ring targeting children with powerful quirks takes up the next week. They’ve been tracking it for months, staking out location after location, until they approximately know how many are involved and who the main faces are. 

It’s a large operation, involving heroes from all over Japan and seven separate strike teams. He couldn’t swap out of it; they were in too deep for that.

The final result is twenty injured heroes, two in critical condition and rushed to a nearby hospital, over fifty scumbags for the judicial system to handle, and fifteen terrified kids, eleven of whom were missing persons on record. There had been one tiny eight-year-old girl that didn’t make it. Zuko hadn’t been in the team that found her, but Tsunagu had.

Blue Spirit and Best Jeanist settle on an isolated rooftop once all the initial paperwork and follow-up is dealt with. They will have tons more forms to fill out the following day, but the police kindly gave them a grace period after such a large rescue. 

They need to focus on something other than work. There isn’t anything Zuko could say to make things better, but a distraction will help Tsunagu plenty.

So he tells him the plot of Love Amongst the Dragons. The only other person he ever retold the story to here was Rei, and she had been very amused by his retelling. Luckily, Best Jeanist is as well.

“I never took you for a fan of theatre. You are quite passionate about this,” Tsunagu comments, finally talking. It’s the first word he’s said since they left the police station.

“I love theatre,” he confesses, more nostalgic than embarrassed. “I used to constantly go with my sister-in-law to watch new productions. There’s something so mesmerizing about the way the actors fill out their characters,” he explains, fiddling with his mask. He avoided taking the whole thing off while in costume, but they’re high up enough that very few people could manage to spot him.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” his friend starts, throwing him a cautious glance. “How is your brother’s family doing? You talked about them a couple of times during our first year, but you stopped mentioning them at all at some point.”

Well, this was a conversation long overdue. For a moment he wants to dismiss it, but it would make for a good distraction for Tsunagu and a large part of him wants to get at least some of the weight off his chest. The fibre hero even kindly avoids mentioning the absolute nightmare Zuko became in second year after Enji threw him out. 

His classmates made perfect stress relief. It was an honest miracle Tsunagu chose to stick around after Zuko broke his leg and nearly lopped his arm off in a simple capture the flag exercise.

Now the question is, how much does Zuko tell the other hero? Tsunagu would never go to the press, but it always feels wrong to tell someone about the inner workings of the mess that is the Todorokis. The Prince never really had that problem; you just needed to lift a thin veneer of national pride to see the horror show that was the Fire Nation royals. 

For all that Endeavour preens in the public eye, his brother managed to keep their lives private.

“He actually kicked me out to a separate apartment in second year,” Zuko bites the bullet and shares. “We got into a fight about my nephew, and he threw me out. I’ve barely gotten to see, or even talk, with my sister-in-law or her children.”

“No wonder you became such a hellion in second year. That’s a horrible thing to experience, Zuko,” Tsunagu says, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“I’m an idiot,” Zuko continues, slightly leaning into the comforting touch. Now that he’s started, it feels impossible to stop. “Tsunagu, my sister-in-law has been institutionalized; it was too much stress for her. I left her and her kids with my asshole brother, and now she needs to be monitored for her own safety. I did what he wanted, stayed away. I can’t even say why. I just folded.”

His friend remains quiet beside him, but that’s alright.

Zuko doesn’t need answers or reassurance. He’s known for the last five years why he stepped aside so easily. For all he managed to stand against Ozai at the very end of things, he was still trained to obey. And a commanding presence like Enji melded quite nicely into the Fire Lord’s image. He certainly demanded plenty of respect. 

“I’m going to take a break,” he tells Tsunagu. “I planned to the moment I heard what happened to Rei. I just needed to finish up this case.” 

It goes unsaid why he’s taking a break, what he’s planning to do. It’s a bit surprising that Tsunagu isn’t immediately trying to stop him. Best Jeanist is a hero dedicated to upholding a safe and kind image of heroes, and inter-hero fighting hardly fits in that frame, even if it is familial. 

Because that’s what’s going to happen. Maybe Enji feels guilty for what happened to Rei, but that doesn’t mean he’ll listen to Zuko. Touya may have never taken up his offer to fight Enji, but he never asked him not to either. And Fuyumi deserves to see her father taken down a peg.

He doesn’t know what Shouto or Natsuo want. That’s just extra fuel for his flames.

Zuko’s going to have to challenge his brother for the right to see his family, to go back home. How nostalgic.

Tsunagu quietly wishes him luck before they split. 

He notices on the way to the Todoroki property. Bright blue and red lights dance on Sekoto Peak. They look tiny from so far away; shining specks flicker into existence before disappearing.

Touya must be training. Zuko hadn’t had the chance to bother him for the last week. 

He changes course, directing his motorcycle away from the Todoroki property.

Halfway up the mountain, the forest explodes in light.

The world is blue, burning and smouldering and brilliant blue. It licks at him, trying to make him blue too, tasting the fire trapped in his soul and coaxing it to join its dance. 

And yet it is also red, and angry, and grieving. Tearing at his flesh to reach the tender heart. To share the pain. To paint him in its colours and make him understand.

He grips the tongues of flame and orders them to cool. Stay alive and burn, but with his gentle warming red and orange and yellow. Like campfires and cooktops, a caress and a gentle crackle. Step by step, he wrestles the blaze, calmly shoving it under his foot, desperately searching for its source.

But the world is still blue and desperate grieving red, his soft orange and yellow not nearly enough. His clothes and hair are singed and smoking. His skin is prickling, and his hands are the first to start losing the fight. The blue and vicious red are winning; it’s starting to burn him too.

He can hear a high-pitched laugh. He can hear his sister wail.

Another step, and he can see his nephew screaming.

Such a brilliant, wonderful blue mixed among the all-consuming mourning red. A talent and a prodigy. So much potential, it’s eating him alive.

Orange and yellow and his caring red won’t win. So Zuko reaches deep. Deeper than he ever dared, deeper than the day he looked into his mother’s eyes and saw a stranger, listened to his brother bark out orders and heard his father. Myths fly alongside as he dances with a gray-eyed legend. There is a roar and the world is awash with multicoloured light.

There isn’t anyone to join his dance, only brilliant, wonderful blue and grief-ridden red, which he cuts through with orange and green and purple and gold. He reaches through the gashes in the burning curtains, grasping at the flailing form of his nephew. 

It’s not enough, not yet. He’s still burning, and Zuko has to be better.

He needs to end this quickly.

The colours grow in intensity, enveloping Touya, the little fireflake. The mighty dragonling. 

The venom burns under his nephew's skin, greedily eating away at him. Zuko’s desperate hand refuses to let go, even as the pain reaches its crescendo before the horrible numbness of third degree. 

Touya is flailing in his grip, the pain no doubt far too much to bear. And there it is. The shame, that ever familiar shame as the world burns blue. As he burns, grieving red.

“Touya, it’s okay, I’m here, I’m here, please it’s okay,” Zuko prays through the smoke in his throat and the roar of the flames. He doubts his nephew hears him. He doubts his nephew knows to listen.

But the blue is growing weaker and the red turns weeping. The flames are fading, and the skin revealed is purple and raw and burnt and dying, but not dead. Dragon fire reduces his nephew to a smouldering coal that gasps through scorched lungs for superheated air. 

This world isn’t the same as the one that left a thirteen-year-old prince with a failing eye and half-deaf ear. The medicine and quirks at his brother's disposal will be able to save Touya. He’s sure of it. He just needs to put him out. Smother the flames until there’s no chance of them catching once more.

Zuko feels relieved. He can do this. Just a bit more and Touya will be safe. He can end this-

That relief is met by a flailing hand, still smouldering with licks of flames even after all his efforts. Touya spasms, wracked with pain and near-death panic, arms reaching for anything to keep him grounded. His palm lands against his uncle’s left cheek, and in his desperation he pushes away.

And Zuko burns. On his knees with his nephew in his arms, cold tile under his feet and a monster overhead. The world is red, bleeding for another madness-fueled genocide, and he can’t do a thing to keep his family safe. A failed prince once more. What would his uncle think of him now?

He blinks, and Ozai towers over him. There is cheering in the distance, the crowd overjoyed at their lord’s cruelty. Zuko tries to curl further around Touya and hide him from those horrible empty eyes.

But he is pulled off his nephew and roughly kicked to the side. There is so much pain coursing through him, it’s impossible to tell which parts of him are injured. He tries to pull himself up, but his arm gives out. All he can do is stare at Ozai’s disappearing back as the world swims into a dark abyss.