Three years.

It's been three years since everything fell. It's been three years since Zuko's life turned upside down. It's been three years since everything just fell apart. He had lost everything. Katara was dead. Jet was dead. He hadn't seen Sokka in those three years. Even though he didn't know he was once the Blue Spirit, he knew Sokka blamed him. Azula was his sister, and Katara was only caught in the crossfire because of his family lineage.

Three years of chaos around the city.

Even in the shadows, Zuko had an eye on the city. After he woke up three years ago, being in the room with his uncle and the Painted Lady, Zuko had to escape. And Iroh knew too well where he was going.

Katara's old apartment.

It only took days before Iroh had arrived at the door with a new set of clothes and fresh food. It was Iroh who kept Zuko informed of what his sister was doing now that she was the ruler of Ba Sing Se. His father, the Phoenix King, had put off coming to Ba Sing Se for some time now. Iroh told him how Ozai was preparing to move all of Caldera to Ba Sing Se and cement it as the new home of the Royal Family of Caldera.

It was the first step in the mad man's world conquest.

Today wasn't any different.

When Zuko awoke, he felt sore. It was three years, and he still felt sore and beat up. Every day, he would stare at himself, seeing the new scars on his face and body. He saw the images of his sister straddling over him, her fists and nails coming down on his face and blood blurring his vision. He would snap out of his vision with sweat dripping off his face and his heart racing.

This was what he did when Iroh wouldn't bring him food.

He had stolen a robe from a passing family, not afraid of lowering himself down to that level. Zuko kept the hood over his face, hiding the scar that marred his face. Those that made up the resistance against Azula also made sure that anyone associated with Caldera would be hunted down. His face was the most recognizable among anyone from Caldera.

The streets weren't as busy as they used to be today. Zuko was able to move a lot more freely through the streets. He stood in front of several carts, looking at different pieces of fruit. He saw the dragon-peaches, feeling a few of them and pushing away the ones with black bruises on the side. Zuko made small talk with the owner as he purchased some of the fruit, turning away with a small smile.

"What do you think happened to the Blue Spirit?"

Zuko stopped, shifting his view to a group of teenagers on his left, looking at the cart that held different kinds of drinks.

"Who the fuck cares? He's probably dead anyways."

Not dead, but close enough.

With a sigh, Zuko continued walking back down the way he came from with the bag of dragon-peach in his hand. Kids ran by him, screaming and laughing, unaware of the dangers around them. Zuko couldn't help but smile at the thought of them still having the innocence that he never had. It was a sad thing, to be honest.

He was back inside Katara's old apartment. He dropped the bag of fruit on the bed, lowering the hood and tossing the robe aside. Zuko grabbed one of the peaches from the bag, biting into it and staring at the window. There was a slight hesitation in his bite before he smirked and chuckled softly.

"Are you just going to stand there?"

Behind him, a figure emerged from the shadows.

The Painted Lady.

Zuko turned his head, staring at the Lady, still unaware it was Katara underneath that red and white paint. He eyed the Lady, noticing her change in attire. She was wearing a crimson red robe that exposed her shoulders and biceps. Underneath was a lighter red tank top that only had one shoulder strap. The hood on the robe was still there, raised up over her head and topped off with the white veil.

"Nice costume change," Zuko snickered.

"It has been a while since we last seen each other," Katara spoke in her disguised voice.

"Did my uncle send you?" The golden-eyed man prompted.

"Why would you think that?"

Zuko scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Please, I know that you two have been talking since that day three years ago. And only you or him visit me. I'm not that stupid."

"So what if Iroh did send me?"

"Would it be a personal visit? Or is this a business visit?"

Katara smirked, gliding over to the bed and grabbing one of the peaches, moving her veil and biting into it.

"Both."

Zuko snickered, sitting down at the foot of the bed as he tossed the core of the dragon-peach out the window, turning his gaze on the Painted Lady.

"Let's start with the personal reason then," Zuko mumbled.

"How are you feeling? It's been three years and still no sign of the Blue Spirit," Katara snapped. "We need him."

"You don't need him," Zuko hissed. "You just need the mask. Anyone can be the Blue Spirit."

"But the Blue Spirit can't be anyone."

"Why do you care?" Zuko roared, standing up. "Every day, you or Iroh always come and try and get me back to wearing the mask? What if I don't want to wear the mask? What if the Blue Spirit simply doesn't exist?"

"The Order of the White Lotus needs you," Katara almost yelled in her regular voice. "He must."

Zuko scoffed. "White Lotus… my uncle tried to use that on me. Some secret organization full of old people. I don't think so."

"The city needs you, Zuko," Katara sighed, almost as if she was pleading. I need you.

He kept his gaze on the Painted Lady, seeing the saddened look on her face. He stepped closer, feeling this warm sensation bubbling down in his stomach. He shook it away as he turned away from the Painted Lady.

"Just go. I'll just tell Iroh the same thing I told you if he comes tomorrow."

Zuko heard another sigh come from the Painted Lady, and the sound of the wind rustling as he knew that she was gone now. He let out his own rush of air, sitting back down on the bed and staring at his feet.

Maybe she was right.

Maybe Iroh was right.

Maybe he was right.

There was just too much pain that surrounded him wearing that blue oni mask. Everyone that he had loved or held close was gone. He wasn't even sure if Aang and everyone else was even alive. The mask that he wanted to wear to help this city only brought fear and chaos to Ba Sing Se.

Three years.

Three years of the same thoughts over and over and over again.

Three years and laying on a cold bed with that blue oni mask lying face up underneath it.

Now was the night where Zuko felt even more confused than he had ever been before.