Chapter Text
The rarest form of firebending wasn’t rare because it was difficult, but rather because of culture.
The fire nation, at least in this life time, prides itself on strength, power and honour. You do not kneel, you do not hide, you show passion. You do not heal.
But if you were to read of the old texts -the ones Sozin had stored away- you would hear of this special form of fire bending few are born with. A tie between Fire and Water.
They say you can tell if a baby is born with this ability by their eyes. They do not posses the ‘spark’ but instead are a bright golden colour. Their fire, instead of the bright, burning orange typically shown, burns in a gentle golden, yellow.
Iroh had known this himself, he was not born with the ability and never had the opportunity to truly study it. But on that night, that freezing cold, winter night. The night where the fire sages had to beg the fire lord to let the heir live. The night where he held his dear nephew for the first time as Ursa finally slept. He knew.
His nephew was a small, sick, baby. He came early and shouldn’t have survived his birth, but it seems he was stubborn since birth. But when he opened his eyes, Irohs cooing paused, looking into those golden eyes.
‘Good.’
He thought to himself.
‘This family needs a healer.’
He watched the boy grow. But, unfortunately, he had underestimated his Brothers cruelty. Zuko did not grow to nurture and strengthen his kindness, he grew to hide and scratch and claw for security and love. He was not ment to be a fighter, but he was left with little choice, he had to be strong to survive.
It only worsened over time. Iroh watched as Zuko, his dear nephew who was always so soft and kind, grew into a bitter, angry young man. Sometimes he feared Zuko would turn out like his father. But those thoughts soon passed when he caught those rare glimpses of zukos true self, his kindness and love that managed to shine through at times.
He watched in pity as Zuko still struggled with the basics. This wasn’t fair. Zuko didn’t know about his abilities, he thought this was a problem with himself. He thought he wasn’t good enough. It was like asking a elephant-koi to climb a tree.
“Nephew?”
“What?!”
“How about you take a break? You’re working hard, come, how about we have some tea?” Iroh coaxed in a patient tone.
“I don’t want tea” the prince grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.
Iroh sighed and relented “We need to talk” he said, gently putting a hand on Zukos shoulder. Zuko raised an eyebrow. “It’s important” Iroh added
“…Fine” Zuko reluctantly agreed. Iroh gave him a smile and led him through the ship, down the twisting halls and up the stairs. Eventually they entered the generals room, silently, Iroh knelt down on the floor, in front of his pai sho board and gestured for Zuko to do the same.
The boy listened, crossing his legs as he sat, he didn’t like the silence but he definitely wasn’t one to break it.
“Nephew. I am going to tell you something, and I need you to listen until I’m finished, can you do that?” Iroh began, tilting his head to the side.
“Sure” Zuko shrugged, his gaze fixed on the floor.
“This is about your fire bending” Iroh noticed Zuko tense slightly, a hint of panic in his eyes—he was expecting to be scolded, like ozai would. “I’m not mad at you” he said, offering him a small smile though it didn’t do much to calm the teenager “your fourteen now, I feel you should know this.”
For once Zuko didn’t speak, he let Iroh explain, curiosity forming in his chest against his will. Irohs voice was gentle and kind, but he couldn’t help but show a little excitement, maybe knowing this could help his boy? “I’m sure you’ve noticed that your flames burn differently in you hands, and I’m sure you’ve wondered why. Well, this is because you have a very powerful gift.”
Zuko was intrigued now, what was Iroh on about? He knew the man often lied to make him feel better, but this wasn’t the same. Iroh looked genuine. But if he had such a powerful gift, why didn’t he know? Why could he never live up to Azula?
“I want to teach you how to use this, nephew” Iroh continued, noticing the hint of excitement in zukos eyes “create a flame” he instructed gently.
Zuko listened and held open his palm, summoning a small ball of fire into it. This was the most simple form of fire bending, the first thing you learn, but he struggled with even that. It never came naturally, it felt…off.
The prince had never spoken this allowed but fire bending, and battling in general, always felt so fake to him. Fighting reminded him of back to when he was little, when his mother would take him down to the theatre and he and Azula would put on masks and act it out once they got home.
It’s an act. You can pretend all you like, but your heart and soul into it but some part of you, in your spirt, knows it’s false. He felt like an alien. Fire bending came so naturally to everyone around him, so why did it not go him?
“No, no, nephew” Iroh shook his head, snapping Zuko out of his thoughts. “Not like that” he almost found himself reaching out a hand but caught himself, he didn’t need any burns. Well, not before he taught Zuko.
“Then how?” Zuko asked before he could think, he internally cringed at how young he sounded, like a fool. But iron just smiled wider, he loved seeing these rare moments where Zuko actually acted like the kid he was.
“Take a deep breath, focus on the air in and out your lungs” Iroh instructed, Zuko followed, steadying his breathing, just as Iroh has drilled into you over his year in banishment.
“Close your eyes” the general said, Zuko followed again and closed them. “Remain calm, think of nothing but your core and the fire. Feel the warmth through your veins, you breath and the smoke blending into one, don’t use your anger, use your heart.”
Zuko felt something change, a shift, his fire didn’t feel the same. Normally it burnt, his own fire did not damage his skin, yet he found still feel the heat of it, the rage, roaring in his palm.
This time it was gentle, soothing somewhat, twisting and turning in his palm, though it tingled slightly. If his regular flame was a forest fire, this was a soothing hearth.
“What…?” Zuko mumbled softly, his eyes opening, his fire was no longer a neon orange, but instead a soothing yellow. He had a few early memories of creating fire this colour, more sparks than fire, but his father’s scolding and slap burned into his head.
‘Weak’ he was told ‘that is weak. Do better. Be better. You are the crown prince, you will fight’
There was a brief moment were that fear rose in him again, oh no, Iroh was here. Uncle was watching. He had already disappointed his father, he couldn’t disappoint uncle to.
Just as he opened his mouth to speak, he finally processed Irohs expression. A large, somewhat gleeful smile. He was happy?
“So good!” Iroh grinned, scooting closer to his nephew “I knew you could do it”
Silence. Zuko merely tilted his head in confusion. Oh, right, he didn’t know.
“You’re a healer my boy” Iroh calmed himself down, he saw some strange look pass through Zukos face, that wasn’t one he had seen before.
Still, silence. It took Zuko a good few seconds to fully process what Iroh had said. “I’m a…healer?” His voice came out as a whisper. He had always felt this strange pull towards helping others, he always found himself fascinated by medicine and never once felt joy when he hurt others.
“Yes!”
“No!”
“No?” Iroh raised an eyebrow, his nephews response hand caught him of guard
“No!” Zuko repeated, pushing himself up and onto his feet.
His fire had gone out, but if felt like one had been lit behind his eyes. “No, no, no” he spiralled, oh spirts, what would his father think? He was already such a disappointment. He couldn’t be a healer. He needed to be strong, a fighter. He needed to be like his father, his father was good. He had already been such a disappointment, father would never love him again—
“Zuko. Nephew. Dear boy, breathe” Iroh stood as well, taking quick steps towards Zuko “no, dear boy” Iroh only used that name when he felt he had to be especially gentle. “That isn’t true” what isn’t true?
Crap.
Zuko hadn’t even realised he was rambling, he tried to form a response but all he could get out was a stammering mess of word vomit.
“No, no! I-i—I can’t be weak! Uncle— I can’t disappoint father, I can’t—“
Iron reached out to touch him and instantly regretted it. Zuko flinched oh, how he hated that. He didn’t like seeing his boy, normally so brave and fierce, act weak and small.
“Just-just…” Zukos bottom lip trembled as he took several steps back. ‘Don’t cry’ he told himself ‘don’t you dare cry’. In a quick movement Zuko turned on his heal.
His body was moving before his brain did. He heard a voice behind him, irohs? Maybe, but that didn’t matter, his chest felt as though it was being crushed. His heart seemed to have lodged itself in his throat—he couldn’t speak, couldn’t even breathe, everything was small, too small, he felt small and too cramped.
He needed to be alone
Before he knew it he was looking at an all too familiar fire nation banner. Iroh was still rushing after him, though the old man was slow. Zuko slammed his door shut with probably more force than necessary. “Leave me alone!”
He didn’t hear what Iroh said as he collapsed in a ball against his door, his breathing coming in quick, shallow breaths.
A healer can’t fight, a healer can’t rule, a healer is a coward, a healer is weak. Weakness ment he would never capture the avatar
He would never get home…