Chapter 4
Zuko was peppered with questions when he limped through the Jasmine Dragon door. It took a solid fifteen minutes of retelling the story before Uncle was able to believe that Zuko had actually gotten hurt from tripping and not from something or someone else. He brewed some restorative tea, which Zuko drank before falling into a dreamless six hours of sleep.
His alarm shook him awake at 5AM sharp. He allowed his body five sleepy breaths before sitting up and rummaging for the neat little outfit his father had sent him with after the party. His ankle still throbbed with every step. He washed down some fresh scones with almost three more cups of restorative tea before Ozai’s staff member was knocking on the door.
Zuko limped through the back door to his father’s house just fifteen minutes before six. Zhao and Ozai were both stationed by the front door.
“Why are you limping?” Zhao sounded genuinely concerned, though Zuko could assume it was less about his own wellbeing and more about the wellbeing of Ozai’s image.
“I twisted my ankle.”
“When?”
“Yesterday at the party.”
“You did?” Ozai sounded surprised.
Zuko decided against reminding his father that it had happened when he was standing right next to him. “Yes.”
The two men looked at each other.
“We’ll have him sitting,” Zhao said after a moment.
Ozai brightened. “Yes, studying.”
“In a study room. With his back facing the cameras.”
“Perfect.” Ozai looked around. “Where’s Azula?”
“I’m here.” Azula floated down the excessively large staircase in an outfit that matched Zuko’s. It looked better on her, less awkward and preppy. All of the stupid outfits their father made them wear looked better on Azula.
“Alright,” Zhao said, clapping his hands together and smiling at Zuko and Azula in that way he did when he was about to try and make bad news sound good. “We need you kids to make an appearance at the library. Just a little photo op. We’ll have drivers out front, you can head back once you’ve been in the library for, let’s say, fifteen minutes? Give or take?”
“So we’re making a five hour drive for a fifteen minuite photo op?” Azula’s voice was flat. Zuko winced. He knew the library was far, but a five hour drive with Zhao, Azula, and his father sounded next to the worst thing in the world.
Zhao kept his smile. “It’s for your father. You kids understand, don’t you? You do. Now come along.”
The car was long and black, as the cars that drove them around often were. It had three rows of sleek leather seats, the first one for the driver, the second for Ozai and Zhao, and the third for Azula and Zuko. Ozai and Zhao immediately began talking about the fundraiser and newspapers and polls and all of the things that ebbed to white noise in the back of Zuko’s brain. He looked out the window for a few minutes, and then tentatively reached into his front pocket to pull out the napkin Sokka had given him last night. Zuko still hadn’t texted the number, or even saved it in his phone. He stared at the black ink stretching from one corner to the other. He had slipped the napkin in his pocket yesterday with hopes that he would summon the courage to text Sokka during this ride. No courage was coming. He just sat there, staring at the napkin, replaying the moment when Sokka had handed it to him.
Azula turned to Zuko about ten minutes in.
“I’m bored,” she said. “What’ve you got there?” She snatched the napkin from Zuko’s hand. The damage had already been done in the two seconds it took him to snatch it back. “Whose number is that?”
“That’s none of your business!”
“Come on, Zuzu.” Azula rolled her eyes. “Let’s cut the crap. We hate each other right now, but we’re also stuck in a car for five hours. Let me help you with your social life. God knows you need it, and I have nothing better to do.”
She was right. Zuko couldn’t deny that Azula was, and always had been, a better people person than him. It was annoying, but it was true.
“It’s Sokka. He gave me his number last night.”
Azula raised an eyebrow. “Ok… Why not just start with hello?”
“That’s not weird?”
“No, dummy. He gave you his number. He’s expecting to hear from you.”
Again, she was right. Zuko hated how good she was at this.
Zuko entered the number and sent Hello.
“He’s not going to know who it is,” Zuko worried aloud. He typed out Zuko here and sent it before Azula could say anything.
Azula leaned over. “What did you send?” Zuko showed her the text. A slow smile crept across her painted lips.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Is it bad?”
“No, no. It’s very informative. How else is he doing to know who is here?”
“Shut up!” Zuko crossed his arms and resigned himself to glaring out the window.
Fifteen slow minutes bled into a torturous half hour. No response.
“You did this on purpose,” Zuko snarled. Azula took out one earbud.
“Hm?”
“He’s ignoring me. You made me text him so I would make a fool out of myself!”
“It’s 7:30. He’s probably still sleeping.” Azula yawned. “Give it an hour before you start overreacting.”
For a third time, she was right. Zuko leaned against the window. He tried to think about the terrain changes as they traveled. He tried to pay attention to what his father and Zhao were talking about. He tried to do anything but obsess over Sokka and his stupid text messages.
At 8:46, Zuko’s phone lit up. Sokka had sent one word in response: “sup”.
Zuko jammed the phone in Azula’s face, startling her awake from a nap. “He wants nothing to do with me.”
Azula took the phone. “What?”
“He couldn’t even be bothered to write out ‘what’s up.’ He couldn’t even capitalize the first letter. It’s insulting. He put in minimum effort on purpose, to show me how little he cares about me.”
“I’m really surprised you’ve never broken a bone, you know, with all of the jumping to conclusions that you do.”
“He hates me! It’s obvious!”
“It’s not! Look, just… here.” Azula started typing. Zuko reached for his phone, panicked.
“What are you saying? What are you saying!?”
“Calm down, I’m not going to send anything! Here.”
The words How’s your day going? was typed out in the message box. Zuko uncapitalized the H — because two can play at whatever little game Sokka was playing — and hit send.
Thirteen and a half minutes later, a response popped up: “meh”.
Azula smiled when she saw the response. “I told you he doesn’t hate you.”
Zuko blinked at the text, checking to see if she was reading something more than he was. “What?”
“Meh means bad. Very very bad. People don’t write out long text messages when they’re having a bad day. They usually don’t reply at all, so if anything, this text is proof that he likes you.”
Zuko all but gaped at her. “You got all that from ‘meh’?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know all of this stuff?”
“I know everything, Zuzu.” Zuko raised an eyebrow. Azula scowled. "Fine. Ty Lee taught me. Now shut up and let me nap."
The conversation about Ty Lee that Zuko had with Mai last night replayed in his head. Looking at the situation through enlightened eyes, Zuko had no idea how his clever sister hadn't caught on. Or maybe she knew and she was using Ty Lee's feelings to as leverage for deeper manipulation. It sounded like something she would do, but Zuko had a gut feeling that Azula was as in the dark as he had been. He decided that now wasn't the right time to bring that up, and let Azula return to her nap.
Zuko was grateful when his father requested they pull over at the next rest stop. Those three glasses of tea weren’t doing him any favors. He was squirming like a child on caffeine by the time they pulled up to a strange, stone shaped building in the middle of the sandy terrain.
The entrance to the building looked like the mouth of a cave from a distance. Zuko and his father looked at each other briefly before making their way forward. Ozai’s walk was quick and efficient. Zuko limped as fast as he could to keep pace.
The sandy hallway led them to a set of dark wooden doors. Ozai knocked once, waited a hair under thirty seconds, and knocked again. A gruff looking man dressed in tan opened the door. He looked from Ozai to Zuko. “Is this boy a pupil?”
“What?”
“Is this boy a pupil enrolled in the academy?”
“We’re just looking for a restroom.” Ozai smiled with all his teeth. “I’m the firelord.”
The man’s expression didn’t change. “There’s a restroom in the basement.” He walked away without further instruction.
Zuko followed his father down a sand-covered set of winding stairs. He glanced around the dimly lit hallways. There were posters taped among the tiles that displayed set by set techniques for sandbending.
“Is this a sandbending school?”
“It’s a sandbending training academy.” Ozai didn’t look back, and didn’t slow down.
“So… A sandbending school?”
“A training academy isn’t the same thing as a school. It only teaches bending. Your sister knows the difference, you should too.”
Zuko drooped. “I’m sorry.”
The staircase kept going deeper and deeper into the ground. Zuko paused on either the fifth or sixth level down. “This looks like a basement,” he said, looking around. The only other set of stairs looked dug out, as though the ones they had just descended were meant to be the last level down.
“The basement is the base level, Zuko,” Ozai snapped. “Hurry up. You’re wasting time.”
The last set of stairs felt to be entirely made out of sand. The lights faded as Ozai and Zuko made their way down. The air felt colder. Zuko knew they had gone too far when stairs changed to a ramp and they started trekking upwards, but he didn’t say anything. Ozai kept a stubborn pace as he walked ahead.
The ramp led them to a wooden door that rattled with laughter. Ozai knocked. No response. He knocked again and checked his watch. No response. With a groan and a brief look over his shoulder, Ozai pushed open the door.
Hot desert air hit Zuko’s face. He limped after his father into a fenced enclosure, half concealed by a jut in the building’s bumpy architecture. There were half a dozen boys dressed in tan who sprung into battle stances when the door was thrown open, but that wasn’t what Zuko was paying attention to.
The avatar’s bison was chained to a fence.
Appa’s huge mouth was pressed into a muzzle, and his six legs were bound together in shackles. A chain wrapped from his neck to the corner of the fence. Only his enormous brown eyes could move regularly. He thrashed helplessly against his bounds and attempted a roar behind the muzzle.
“Why do you have the avatar’s bison?” Zuko started forward without really thinking.
One of the sandbenders did the same. “Who are you? Why are you down here?”
“This is my son, Zuko,” Ozai stepped between Zuko and the sandbender before they could stand toe to toe. “And I’m Ozai. Firelord Ozai.
The sandbender paled. “Oh, uh… Hi.”
Ozai raised an eyebrow and looked the boy up and down. “What’s your name?”
“Ghashiun.”
“How old are you?”
“I’m eighteen.”
“Same age as my Zuko, here.” Ozia stepped back to clap a hand on Zuko’s shoulder. “A good age. Voting age. Say, where are you and your friends registered?”
“The fire nation,” Ghashiun said. “We live here for boarding school, and we travel around a lot for work, but home is in the fire nation.”
“You were staffed at Arnook’s party, I presume?” Ozai’s eyes fell to Appa. Ghashiun gulped and nodded.
“This is the avatar’s bison,” Zuko said. “They stole him.”
Ozai took a moment before speaking. “Well, I suppose the avatar should have kept a closer eye on his bison.” He winked and turned back to the door, leaving Ghashiun and his friends smiling behind him. “Come along, Zuko.”
“But--”
“I said come along, Zuko.”
Zuko looked over his shoulder at Appa before following his father back into the staircase. “What are you doing? They’re thieves, we have to do something!”
“They are voters, Zuko. We need their support.”
“But that bison belongs to the avatar!”
“If he really cared, he should have kept a closer eye on it.”
“He does care! He only left Appa with them because it was their job to look after the transportation animals!”
Ozai just shrugged and continued forward.
“You have to do something,” Zuko pressed. “If this got out, if people found out you knew about this and--”
Ozai whipped around and grabbed Zuko by the collar, nearly lifting him off the ground. “It’s not going to get out, because we’re going to keep our mouths shut. The last thing we need right now is another scandal.” He released Zuko with such aggression it almost sent him tumbling down the stairs. “This is politics, Zuko. If you bothered to read the news, you would see that we were polling low with sandbenders. Stop being an idiot and see this as the good thing it is.”
This explained Sokka’s bad mood, Zuko thought to himself as he followed Ozai from the bathroom to the car. Aang was definitely freaking out. He loved that bison with his whole being. He must be devastated. They all must be devastated. It bothered Zuko to think of them devastated. To think of Sokka devastated.
“We have a bit of a situation,” Zhao said when Zuko and Ozai slipped back into the car. He had a computer opened on his lap. It was streaming a video of a masked crowd holding slabs of meat over one of their eyes.
Ozai squinted at it. “Is this one of those animal rights protests?”
“No, it’s that Freedom Fighters magazine. They’re protesting against you. The meat is supposed to represent… Um…” Zhao’s eyes fell to Zuko. “...Yeah.”
Zuko’s cheeks reddened, and his hand flew to his scar in a self conscious manner.
“Well, that’s really mature.” Ozai muttered. “Are they outside of the library?”
“I’m afraid so. I was able to arrange for us to be let in through the back.”
Azula leaned towards Zuko and spoke in a whisper. “You should have seen Zhao when he started the livestream. Do you remember Jet? The angry kid who did that sit-in protest during take your kids to work day?” Zuko nodded, still touching his scar. Did those people really think that it looked so ugly it was comparable to a slab of meat? Zuko hated it too, but come on, that was a little harsh.
“He’s wearing a blue mask and a black outfit,” Azula continued, “and his hair kind of does that floppy thing in the back that yours does. At first glance, Zhao thought it was you.”
Zuko’s insecurity-fueled freakout was put on pause. “Jet is running the protest?”
“I don’t know about running, but he’s there.”
“And Zhao mistook him for me?”
“Yes, and it was hilarious. You should have seen his face.” Azula laughed. “Now that would be a scandal.”
“It would,” Zuko said, softly and more to himself than to Azula. He had a fraction of a plan. That fraction had formed into a whole by the time they pulled up to the back of the library and were escorted inside by a bookish man with a long braid down his back.
After a few photographs with Zuko and Azula under each of his arms, Ozai left to be seen with rich-looking people and studious-looking children. Zuko was put in a study room with his back facing the cameras, as Zhao and Ozai had decided earlier. Azula sat across from him.
“There are drivers out front, they’ll take you wherever you want,” Zhao said, looking around. “Stay for fifteen, and then you’re free to go. I’m getting out of here, that owl librarian gives me the creeps.”
Zuko and Azula sat in stiff silence for almost fifteen minutes to the dot. Azula started packing up a few minutes beforehand.
“You coming?” She asked over her shoulder.
“Not yet. I’m in a flow with studying.”
“Okay.”
Zuko’s heart pounded in his ears as Azula started to walk away. He had decided to put this possibly dangerous and definitely stupid plan into action when she was gone. Maybe it was procrastination that made him call her back.
“Azula, wait.” He turned in his chair to face her. “Ty Lee likes you.”
Azula froze in the doorway. She turned her head halfway. There was anger lighting the bit of her face Zuko could see.
“I told you,” she spoke through gritted teeth. “I wasn’t on the phone with her. It was a toy phone.”
“No, I mean she has feelings for you.”
The fire left Azula’s face. “What?”
“She has since you guys met.”
“How do you know?”
“Mai.”
“Oh.” Azula stood in silence for a moment longer. She opened her mouth and closed it, and then opened it again. “Oh,” she repeated softly. She walked away.
Once he was sure she was gone, Zuko tore a piece of scrap paper from a notebook and grabbed an ink pen. He looked over his shoulder before scribbling meet me behind the library if you want a real story. When one of the library’s fox staff members swept through the study room with that polite cacine helpfulness about him, Zuko knelt down and handed him the note.
“Take this to Jet,” he said slowly, feeling a bit stupid. “He’s, uh, he’s out front. He’s wearing a blue mask.” The fox seemed to understand, though Zuko couldn’t know that for a fact. He took the note and bounded away.
Sneaking out of the library without being seen was easier than Zuko thought it would be. Some social media influencer was yelling at some campaign director in the poetry isle, and most of the guests were hovering around them pretending not to be listening. Zuko limped from the study room to the back door they had been escorted into. There was no telling if Jet would receive the note, or show up even if he did. This plan had so many holes it would be a miracle if even half of it went right. But Zuko was committed; it was too late to back out. All he could do was wait. The sun was beginning it’s slip below the horizon of tan, touching everything below with rich hues of orange and gold. Zuko leaned against the sandy bricks and faced the endless desert sky.
“Are you the guy who’s got a story for me?”
Jet’s voice was every bit as obnoxious as Zuko had remembered. He took a breath before turning around, glaring as he did so. “Hello Jet.”
Jet’s dark eyes widened behind his mask. He yanked it off his face. “Zuko?” He gawked. “You have a story for me?”
“You’re only getting it if you do me a favor first.” Zuko tried to hide his limp as he walked towards Jet. He didn’t want to seem in any way damaged or breakable right now.
Jet crossed his arms, recovering quickly from his initial shock. “What’s the favor?”
“I need you to switch outfits with me and sit in a study room. And I need your mask.”
Jet blinked. “What?”
“I need an alibi, and you’re going to help me with that. You’re going to be photographed as me when it happens. Then they’ll know it wasn’t me, because I was here.”
“What are you talking about? When what happens?”
Zuko took a breath. “The avatar’s bison was stolen. He’s being held at a sandbending training academy. I’m going to sneak out and release him, and then I’m going to do an interview with you for your magazine. I’ll tell you all about how my father saw the bison tied up, and how he turned his back.”
Jet’s eyes lit like black stars. “The firelord’s son leaking information about him? Quite a scandal.”
Zuko shook his head. “I’m going to be wearing your mask. Nobody can know your source is me.”
“It would be a bigger story if I leaked it was you.”
“Well, you can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I’ll deny it. The Freedom Fighters will be dismissed as a petty gossip site.”
Jet raised an eyebrow and reached into his pocket. He dug out a recording device, no bigger than a sticky note.
Zuko clenched his fists, trying to guise the panic with anger. “You can’t.”
“Can you offer me something better?” Jet ran a thumb over top of the little gray device. Zuko wanted to burn it to ash and then do the same thing to Jet. “Better decide quickly, I have a protest to get back to, and possibly a story to write.”
Zuko begged his scattered mind to work. He needed to do something — anything — to stop Jet from leaking that tape. He could still feel his father’s hand on the collar of his shirt, still hear his gravelly voice. The last thing we need right now is another scandal. But the only thing Jet wanted was a scandal. Zuko needed to find a way to replace this scandal with a different scandal that was both worth writing about and wouldn’t get him killed on sight.
“I can be a mole,” Zuko blurted without really thinking. “I know everything my father has done. Every shady deal and cheap scam. If you leak that now, I’ll never talk to you again. If you help me with this, I’ll give you a new story every week. My only condition is that nobody finds out it’s me.”
Jet tilted his head to the side. He held up the mask and removed the slice of meat he had taped over one of the eye sockets. It was blue, with white facial features and an eerie smile.
“It could be the Freedom Fighter’s big break. A new column: The Blue Spirit, scourge of the fire nation.”
“The Blue Spirit?”
“It’s the name that came on the box for the mask.”
Zuko shifted. He had just planned on rescuing Appa, not becoming a blue spirit or a spirit of any color. But if Jet wasn’t offered a better alternative, he was going to leak that recording. So, he nodded.
“The Blue Spirit it is.”
Jet tutted. “This is quite a risk you’re taking. What’s in it for you?”
“Well, you’re blackmailing me for starters,” Zuko said, choosing to ignore the fact that Sokka’s face had popped into his head when Jet asked the question. “And I, uh… I care about animal rights.”
Jet shrugged. “So I’m just supposed to sit with my back facing the cameras?”
“Pretend to be studying.”
“What if someone tries to talk to me?”
“I don’t know.”
Jet snickered. “Really thought out plan you’ve got here. What are you going to do after you free the bison?”
”If I make it that far, I’ll fly to the air temple. You need to be there before me if you want that interview.”
“When will you get there?”
“Well, I have to figure out how to fly a ten ton sky bison, so I’d say you’ll have enough time to stop for lunch.” Zuko held out a hand “Do we have a deal?”
Jet looked from Zuko to his mask, a slow smile making its way across his lips. He clasped Zuko’s hand in a strong shake.
“We sure do, Blue Spirit.”
“There!” Sokka resecured the four corners of the missing bison poster on a wooden telephone pole. “Those are all the copies. Every person in the four nations is gonna be keeping an eye out for Appa.” Sokka yawned and rolled his shoulders back. “Good deeds make me hungry. You down for some dinner?”
“Absolutely,” Toph grumbled. “I sure worked up an appetite holding the posters and following you around all day.”
Sokka smirked. “Don’t feel bad, I’m a naturally fast walker. It’s the leader in me, I always have to be in the front of the group. Come’on, I think I saw a truck that sells meat down the block.” Sokka pretended not to notice Toph’s groan as he marched ahead.
After a brief argument about where the truck was parked and a short line, Toph and Sokka were sitting on a street curb with paper plates in their laps. They both wolfed down chicken wings and slabs of bacon with the vigor of proper savages.
“It’s nice not having Katara yell at us to stop eating like cavemen.” Toph spoke with her mouth partially full.
Sokka hummed a blissful “Mmmmhmmm” in agreement. “She hasn’t left Aang’s side since the night of the party.”
Toph set a bone stripped of meat down on her plate. “Do you think he’ll turn up? Appa, I mean.”
Sokka heard Katara’s voice in his ears from the night before. “I know you think optimism is another form of lying, but I really need you to at least pretend to be optimistic right now,” she had whispered, glancing over her shoulder at the couch where Aang laid wrapped in a blanket. “He needs hope. We all do.”
Sokka ripped off a bite of jerky. “I mean, he’s a giant flying bison. It’s not like whoever took him is gonna be able to hide him for long. He’ll be fine.”
“That’s true,” Toph agreed, though she didn’t sound too soothed.
“Look, all we can do is try to help and be there for Aang. Whatever happens, we’ll get through it.” It was as optimistic as Sokka was willing to go.
“I guess you’re right.” Toph was quiet for a moment before punching Sokka hard in the arm. “Thanks, Sokka.”
“Don’t mention it,” Sokka said through gritted teeth, running a hand over the spot she had punched. She really was freakishly strong for her size. Then again, she was the best earthbender Sokka knew, so her strength made sense.
Sokka discarded the empty plates in a curbside trash can and was walking back over to Toph when his phone started buzzing. Katara was calling him. Sokka answered with one hand and helped Toph to her feet with the other.
“Yeah?”
“Sokka!” Loud laughter and bellowing roars from the background almost drowned out Katara’s voice. “Have you seen the news?”
“No,” Sokka spoke through a smile, nudging Toph gently. “Sounds like you found Appa?”
“We didn’t find him, he was brought to us! Go check the news, it’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen — Aang, Aang be careful! Sokka, come to the air temple, okay? Wait, Momo, Momo don’t—“
The line clicked to an end. “Well, Appa is back.” Sokka waved over a taxi and helped Toph inside. “We’ve been summoned to the air temple.”
“Alright!” Toph whooped. “Finally, twinkle toes will stop being all mopey.” She rested her head against the glass window and closed her eyes. Though she wouldn’t admit it, she had been concerned. Concerned for Appa, but mostly concerned for Aang. Sokka could tell. He decided to let her rest and pulled out his phone instead of striking conversation.
Sokka opened the news app, and fought the urge to close it immediately. The trending article was from the Freedom Fighters. That news outlet had left a sour taste in Sokka’s mouth after the whole Zuko incident, but it was trending and the thumbnail picture was of Appa, so he begrudgingly clicked on it.
Sokka scrolled and scanned. The just of the story explained that about fifteen minutes ago, some stranger in a blue mask had heroically swooped into the air temple on Appa’s back. In a follow up interview they leaked that firelord Ozai had actually seen Appa tied up at some sandbending academy, and had walked away. Apparently, they promised to continue exposing the wrongdoings of the firelord. Hence all of the buzz being generated by the internet. The Freedom Fighters had already come up with a name: The Blue Spirit. It was trending on multiple social media sites.
Sokka clicked a video, trying to find footage of the interview. All the videos just showed Appa flying in, the Blue Spirit jumping off his back and walking towards a car with a reporter, and Aang jumping onto Appa’s forehead. Sokka watched a few more times before realizing that the reporter was Jet. Gross.
Sokka assumed the interview had been conducted with Jet in the car. If the Blue Spirit’s voice was on tape, it would only be a matter of time before the public figured out who they were. Anyone who had information on the firelord probably lived in close proximity to him. It was someone Ozai trusted. What a risk. A cool risk, but still a risk. Sokka didn’t like to think about what Ozai would do if he found the identity of a mole in his system.
It was on the fourth watchthrough that Sokka noticed something about the Blue Spirit.
When the masked stranger jumped off Appa, they made a point to throw the majority of their weight to only one leg. They then walked behind Jet in a way that looked a little purposeful, and when Jet opened the car door, they only used only one leg to push themself inside and carefully pulled the other in afterwards. Sokka rewinded and watched again. Yup, the Blue Spirit’s Foot was definitely hurt.
Sokka’s heart rate picked up. He squinted at the video. It was the left foot that they were staying off of. Sokka opened a new tab and looked up pictures of the party last night. He scrolled through headline after headline about Bumi and Flopsie before finding a few shots of Ozai with Azula and Zuko. Sokka zoomed in on Zuko’s fancy dress shoes. He was standing with his weight pretty evenly distributed in most photos, but there was one when he was leaning towards the side, as if trying to stay off his foot.
His left foot.
That wasn’t enough proof, Sokka told himself. He scrolled through photograph after photograph of the party. The taxi had almost reached the air temple and Toph was snoring loudly by the time Sokka found footage of the firelord walking out of the castle with his children. He turned his volume down so he wouldn’t wake Toph before pressing play.
The videographer was hurdling questions at them, which they ignored as they made their way to the black car parked on the curb. “How was the party? Zuko, did you have fun? Azula, who are you wearing? Ozai, is it true you’re renovating your kitchen?”
A door was opened for Ozai to get in the front. Azula walked around to the other side. Then, a door was opened for Zuko. Sokka’s stomach dropped as he watched Zuko use only one leg to push himself in. He carefully pulled the other leg in afterwards.
His left leg.