"The population must be harnessed and mobilized to strengthen the country from further incursions by treacherous outsiders. To rid ourselves of their presence, the population must divest itself of the notion that personal comforts should take priority over the sacrifices which must be made to purge this land of the vermin who colonized it. Like the Fire Nation's brutalized hordes, we must disregard the notion that we are autonomous, separate peoples. True fulfillment can only be found in service to the nation and to the state that builds upon it."

Izumi yawned and stretched. It was getting late, long past the hour where the palace went still. The fires had dimmed for the night, and the only remaining sounds were the soft patter of the night guards monitoring the halls, the hushed whispers of the latest rumors and the soft laughs shared over crass jokes. The dull orange glow of the lanterns next to her bed illuminated the book in her hands.

"For millennia we've been divided. A loose conglomeration of city states swearing fealty to a lumbering monarchy, an archaic institution that only serves to indulge the excesses of itself and the bloated nobility that supports it. Without strong, centralized institutions to provide order and protection our nation has been divided and conquered, its people are left destitute. All while the ineffectual leadership in Ba Sing Se fiddles with its fingers and looks the other way."

It was a surprisingly captivating read. Though it tended to rant, the value of the messages within were not lost on her. This was effective propaganda, but the premise was laughably absurd. A unified Earth Nation was as likely as the resurrection of the Air Nomads. The strongholds and cities and the warlords and proclaimed kings that presided over them had decided long ago that allowing Ba Sing Se the mantle of center of the confederation was worth retaining a degree of autonomy. The hundred-year war had masked the divisions between them, the fear of Fire Nation annexation providing some semblance of unity between states that would've otherwise been warring with each other. With the end of the century long conflict, an important mediator had been lost. If there had ever been time for someone to consolidate control over the vast territory the war had been the pretext.

She closed the book and shoved it back into the drawer of her night table, then snuffed out the torches.


The streets of the outer caldera had largely been vacated hours ago, with the few remaining drunken stragglers returning home, kicked out by the bars and corralled by the home guard. As pristine as the capital was, it was no secret that the relaxed laws brought by the end of the war had allowed for a growth of petty crime in its outskirts. It had always been there, but lately it had spread out of the crevasses of the underworld, looking for new opportunities to flourish. Among the many struggling to subsist were the hordes of veterans left without a war to fight. Though many had returned home to live honestly, there was no hiding from the uncomfortable truth that many others had decided to utilize their skills for less respectable endeavors. For these soldiers, the seedy dens served as their barracks.

The dingy, poorly lit alleyway that led into one of these inconspicuous dens was where one such man found himself now. His silhouette, lit by the torch in his hand, graced the stained wall as he stood before the small black iron door. He tapped his knuckles against it, a familiar rhythm that he knew by heart. One knock, pause. Two knocks, pause. Two small knocks, one loud. He was greeted by a pair of black eyes through the opened slit that narrowed when they realized what they were looking at.

"We're closed." The gruff voice barked, slamming the peephole shut.

The skinny man rolled his eyes and tapped his foot, checking his pocket and glancing nervously behind his shoulder before knocking once more. One knock, pause. Two knocks, pause. Two small knocks, one loud. This time the slit stayed closed.

"Oh for Agni's sake. I'm getting chilly out here. Are you really gonna let a man freeze to death?"

There was no response from the door. The man tried another set of knocks.

"Listen, I've got the thing. Let me in!"

The slit opened this time, and the skinny man could hear a latch come undone from inside. "About damn time," the nasally voice sighed.

"Not so fast. Show me."

"Excuse me?"

"Show me."

The lank man reached into his pocket and pulled out a small white bag tied with red string and held it up to the slot.

"That's it?"

"Yeah, this is it. It's all there."

"Looks a little light."

"I'm telling you, it's all there."

A second latch was undone, and the door swung open. The skinny man hurried down the stairs into the drab room below, hugging his arms to his body. The place reeked of mold, and the walls were covered in tattered, dirty wallpaper.

"I like what you've done with the place." He picked up a piece of fruit lying on the counter and bit into it, only to spit it out. It was rotted inside; the taste elicited a gag.

"You bite it you buy it." Without raising his head, the burly, gruff man had noticed while sorting through a stack of wooden boxes that lined the corner of the room.

Ignoring the bearded man, he shrugged and tossed the apple behind the counter. "You get customers here?"

The bearded man gave a grunt that loosely resembled "yes".

"The rats tip well eh?"

The bearded man turned to face him, glaring. "Why the hell are you here?" He tossed a small crate to the side with a bang that elicited a jump from his unwanted visitor.

With his composure quickly retained, the man shrugged. "What, can't stop by and say hello to my old friend Bu-Bu?" He watched the man carefully, awaiting the expected reaction.

As anticipated, the grizzled man knitted his brow and huffed, a sound more resembling that of a large animal growling than a soft breathe of exasperation.

"I told you not to call me that. After what happened in Gaoling I told you your first name privileges were revoked. And I never gave you permission to use nicknames."

The buzzing gnat of a man feigned anger at the slight. "That was almost three years ago! You're not still mad at your old buddy Sen, are you? After everything we've been through together?"

Bu Ran had taken to dusting the tables; not that it would make much difference to the quality of the decorum. The wood was splitting, the legs loose and flimsy. Chairs with uneven legs being propped up by stacks of Pai Sho tiles rested beside. There were questionable stains that had seeped into them. From what, Sen was unsure. Blood? Chewing tobacco? Something worse?

"What the hell kind of business is he running here?"

Refocusing his attention on his compatriot, he crossed his arms and leaned against one of the beams, jolting straight up once again after he felt the support shift slightly.

Bu couldn't help but let out another small huff. "You're using the term 'buddy' very liberally."

"I just paid off my debt. The least you could give me is a 'thanks', or 'I'm such a giant, ugly idiot to have ever doubted you. Please, let me kiss your shoes'."

"You're just lucky to still be alive at this point. Gave a lot of thought to hunting you down, ripping your limbs off, skinning you head to toe, taking your head as a trophy. I've been needing more conversation pieces in here," Bu said, with what amounted to a smirk on his unnervingly stoic face. "But this," He shook the small bag, "This might get me something almost as good."

Sen took a couple steps back. "Anyway…I assume you got my letter? Hopefully you actually read it this time."

"Oh yeah, I read it." Sen's face lit up with surprise. "And I found a better use for the paper." He nodded towards the back, a short, yet wide hallway that had an open, circular cage at the end of it. Sen could faintly hear clucking emanating from the floor boards now. His jaw dropped.

"Are you hosting possum chicken fights here!?"

Bu was unphased. "They're called pock fights, and it depends on who's asking. But only on Thursdays."

It took a minute for Sen to regain composure.

"So you're saying nothing in that letter sounded compelling to you? You'd rather waste away in this…fine establishment than undertake an epic quest that will etch our names into the halls of time immortal!? We can change the very fate of the world. Be its saviors, or perhaps even its destroyers!" Sen exaggeratedly held up his arms as his hands clenched into fists. "And of course, twenty thousand gold pieces as a sweet little cherry on top."

Bu yawned. "That's nice and all, but I'd prefer to keep my head. This little 'quest' of yours would have our necks sticking out a mile long. And after the bullshit you've fallen for, why should I even trust that the contract is for real? The kind of coin you're talking about, I figure could only be offered up by someone in a nice cushy position, someone you wouldn't want to cross paths with. They could cut the line and let you fall into the boiling sea at the first sign of trouble. Odds are it's a setup and someone's trying to catch a snake. You'll get tortured for information, maybe a couple teeth pulled, your scalp burned off, but you'll have nothing to tell em' and no names to offer up in exchange for a merciful death."

Sen, like so often before, hadn't fully considered what his proposed escapade could entail, despite the hours of giddy, sleepless nights he'd spent fantasizing about it. Sure, Bu could be right, it could very well be a trap. His head very well could end up on a pike, and his skinny body could end up chopped into hundreds of tiny pieces, their last voyage a short and inglorious trip down a tiger monkey's gullet. He wasn't wrong, he did have a knack for putting himself in situations where the deck wasn't stacked in his favor. Yet, to pass on an opportunity like this, with so much at stake…

"Besides, the last thing I want is to be remembered as a kidnapper. I know it means nothing to you, but I've got a reputation to protect."

Sen laughed. "What reputation is that? The accomplice to all my crimes? The 'Black Bear burglar'? Oh sorry, I almost forgot, aspiring restaurateur?"

The vein in Bu's head bulged. "How about, veteran who wants to be remembered for his service to his country, not the betrayal of it?"

"Well that cat's out of the bag, from a certain point of view."

"And what about you?" Bu stuck his thick finger in Sen's face. "Look at you, why the hell would anyone want you for a job like that anyway? Who needs a scrawny, loudmouthed fool like you for something that requires subtlety and brains? Have you even thought through how you'd get close? It's not like you can just walk through the front gate."

"Ascend the rope, climb through the tower window, sweep our lovely damsel off her feet and into my arms, descend, stop for a late dinner, then deliver the fair maiden to our mysterious benefactor. I've gone over it a million times in my head, and each time it only gets easier."

Bu spat out a laugh that sounded more like a bark. "Yeah, who wouldn't want to be stuffed into a bag by a guy as charming as you? You're out of your fuckin' mind."

"I resent that. One of these days you'll be forced to acknowledge the genius behind my madness. I'm not leaving for the spirit world until you do," Sen retorted, crossing his arms in faux indignation.

Bu had moved behind the counter, and was pouring himself a shot of some murky looking sake. He downed the liquid with no emotion, trying to sustain whatever semblance of sanity he could. The silence lingered for mere minutes, but there was enough tension filling the room for two lifetimes as the men studied each other carefully.

"Let's say I did help you. I assume there won't be any of that 'planner's' bonus' stuff you tried pulling last time. Even split, fifty-fifty."

"Make that, let's see…thirty-thirty-thirty" Sen said sheepishly, counting on his fingers. "Uh, plus a ten percent finder's bonus?"

Bu laughed. "You already roped another idiot into this? What poor fool did you trick this time?"

Sen smirked mischievously. The signature smirk Bu had always fantasized of tearing off his goofy face. "Don't worry, you're already acquainted."

Bu's face fell, an unusually emotive expression for him, though not surprising considering what he expected to hear.

"No, no, no. Hell no. No way. My grandmother would be more useful than him, and she's been six feet under for the last twenty years."

"That's pretty harsh. You know, he may not be much of a fighter, but he's pretty insightful. I have faith in that sixth sense of his."

"Yeah well, you weren't the one who had to rely on him to pull you out of a burning building. I needed a rope, not seer sight. I don't think it's even real anyway. It's that cactus stuff he's always downing."

"If I recall right his 'sight' saved your butt more than a few times during our operations in enemy waters. He wasn't drinking it then."

"We had access to world class navigational equipment, logistics, intelligence gathering. It's not the same as being a band of wayward scumbags with barely a couple bronze pieces between them. He was cheating."

Bu began to pour another shot, but decided it would be insufficient to temper the headache this conversation was giving him. He threw the ruddy old glass behind his shoulder, and drank straight out of the bottle.

"Plus, we didn't have a complete idiot leading us," the large man gave Sen a quick look from the corner of his eye, then went back to drowning himself in sake.

As lovely as catching up was, time was money in Sen's world. And though he had to admit talking to the old brute was more enjoyable than he'd expected, he couldn't afford to let nostalgia cut into his time, thus cutting into his money. A definitive answer was required. Would his former comrade join him on his quest to secure the poor noble who would serve as a bargaining chip for the devious figures who lurked behind the hedgerows of high society?

Sen stared him in the face, weary to make direct eye contact, but needing to impress the seriousness of his question. "So what will it be, are you in or out?"

Bu locked eyes back, his stare unwavering. He needed to impart the seriousness of his response.

"No way. Never again." His eyes relinquished their grip.

Sen sighed. "Fine. Suit yourself."

He pushed himself off the wall and stretched. "Well, thanks for the visit. Maybe we'll run into each other again someday."

Bu's eyes were fixed on the floor. "Don't count on it."

As Sen made his slow ascent back up the creaking wood slabs, he began to whistle a simple tune- jaunty, irritating, and upbeat. As his foot hit the last step before the door, he could faintly make out the distant rustling of boxes and bottles, and the frustrated words of an irritated proprietor. "…Where did I put that damn axe?"

Your eyes betray you my old friend. As always.

"Ahh, I love unspoken agreements."


Studying the insects that paraded around the royal garden had become one of Azula's secret pastimes. The quick rowing motions of dragonflies; the soft fluttering of the fritillaries. Such insignificant creatures with predictable movements, and yet, surprisingly, so purposeful. Always working towards something. Their places in the world secured, with no need nor ability to question. No torturous thinking, no dreams or delusions of grandeur. Surely that was liberating in some way. To not even have a concept of one's self beyond what was necessary to complete one's tasks. For so many months she had wished for such a reprieve. To be free of the maladies of being trapped inside one's head. Hearing voices long silenced. Seeing visages long faded into nothing but mere memory. Even now, freed from her shackles, Azula sometimes found it difficult to look at herself, for she was not totally confident that what she saw was real. A girl removed from her restraints, well dressed, impeccably groomed. It seemed like her. It's how she would present herself. So why did it feel so foreign? Why did sanity feel...disquieting?

It had been but a couple months since her release. Her dearest brother, the reason she had been locked within that wretched prison in the first place, had decided to grant her leniency. Gracious Zuzu, always so noble and just. Visiting his sick sister. For over a year, working tirelessly to restore her broken mind. To bring her home, where she belonged. Of course there was nothing more motivating her loving Zuzu but pure familial affection. His righteous image, his position, his adoring public. Zuko didn't need to sacrifice anything to feign compassion towards his poor, disturbed sibling. So admirable, so foolish, so hopelessly him.

How could the public accept such a weak leader? Didn't they see how Zuko's kindness had left them vulnerable? Didn't they realize she could organize a coup at her leisure, uproot the peace Zuko had worked so hard to maintain? How could they just accept him...accepting her?

No, it was all wrong. The world had been turned on its head in her absence. For example, the way he carried himself. More confident and self-assured than she'd ever seen him. With the way he strutted about, didn't he realize someone could come up behind him and slit his throat on a whim? Hadn't he considered how easily she could burn him into a crisp, letting his guard down around her like that? Did he think just because he'd managed to escape with his life in their last fight he had nothing to fear? Walking in front of her, without a care in the world, like she, the unconquerable Azula, wouldn't end his life at a moment's notice...

"Zuko, do you ever get the feeling you're being watched?" She'd caught him off guard, as he'd simply come to ask if she wanted to go for a walk, as was routine these days.

Confusion filled his face for a second, but he quickly rebounded. "I mean, I guess. Being Firelord does bring a lot of attention. A lot of it unwanted."

"You just seem so...unbothered lately. All the stress of ruling, yet you shrug it off like you don't care."

"I won't lie, I am pretty stressed out. But, I actually feel relieved. I was scared that all this authority, all this responsibility, would corrupt me. Would make me someone I'm not. At first I felt myself succumbing to that pressure, but now, more and more, I feel like I can handle whatever gets thrown at me."

"Aren't you afraid you'll slip up? That overconfidence could lose you everything." Such a suggestion was amusing coming from her, she knew. Maybe the irony wouldn't be lost on Zuko. But regardless, planting the seeds of doubt in his mind was second nature to Azula. And those seeds always bore fruit.

"Honestly, there was a period where I became paranoid. Where I started to look at everything as a threat, where I didn't feel like I could confide in anyone. I felt trapped, alone. And then...I really was alone. I felt so hopeless when..."

"When Mai left?" Azula finished.

Zuko nodded. Azula gave no response. No cutting remark. It all went without saying, right? She anticipated the conversation would end there.

"But, these past couple months, I haven't felt alone at all. Not since you've been back."

Had she heard correctly?

"I don't think I have anything to fear with you around Azula. Since you've been here, I've felt nothing but hope."

In her head, Azula could only laugh at how dumb of a line it was.

Yet her chest betrayed her, as the quickest jolt of a flutter flew through her tiny black heart.

She was quick to regain her senses. "Still, you should think about being a little more careful. It's good to show strength and assuredness in the presence of your subjects. But a wary ruler is a living ruler, understand?"

"Okay. I'll be more mindful from now on."

"Good."

Lost in the conversation and the thoughts racing through their heads, the siblings hadn't noticed they'd already completed their lap around the gardens.

"...Are you admitting you actually want me to live?"

"Oh shut up."