Burning Twice As Bright (ATLA Azula SI)

[midnightmissiles]

1;

Sometimes, you don't even know you're up. It's sort of like sleep walking, but not really. You know how, after years of working your ass off after graduating from university and your job, you wake up looking like a zombie because you usually pull late nights or just plainly suffer from insomnia? For the most part, the fuzziness is supposed to be a chemical thing. Instead, this morning it is a mental thing, on my part.

Because my body is moving on its own, and I don't even notice until I am already out of bed and standing in front of the mirror, combing my own hair. By then, I am awakened enough to notice several very startling facts.

Let's start from the bottom and the least shocking of the list, shall we?

My hair is longer than it should be. The bangs that I hate so much and never allowed to fall lower than my eyes now reach down to below my cheeks. The less I say about the back, the better, especially since my hands are quickly tying the loose, soft strands into a knot at the top of the back of my head. The consistency, the softness, the length, the thickness, and even the number are all so wrong. Nevertheless, I let out a soft hum in a tune I don't recognize as I finish tying the topknot.

I'm told my skin is awfully white for someone from California. I usually tell them in response that it's been years since I truly lived in southern California, and these years I spend in Beijing do not help. Now however, there is not even the barely noticeable tan line from wearing too many short-sleeved shirts. It's as if I had spent my life either in doors or in a place with barely any sun, or I am just so solar resistant now?

The most damning evidence of all is something utterly irrefutable.

Now, I'm a pretty tiny girl. I'm also Asian. But the tiny, Asian-esque girl who stare back at me with a deceptively charming smile is not me. It has not and cannot be me for the last… oh, fifteen or so years at least.

Ah, and of course, the pupils of my eyes are not supposed to be golden.

But that is enough time to stare at myself, it seems. A knife with an ivory handle—the self-defense weapon too opulent to be for anyone but a prince—slides into my palm. I find myself staring at it, marveling it, and thinking to myself these thoughts that do not belong to me, 'Today's the day things changes, Zuzu.'

Zuzu? Surprised, I think loudly and forgetting the strange and out of context situation that I am currently in, 'And who is Zuzu?'

My body freezes up instantly. Nothing makes a sound in this grand room. It's large enough for a princess, and larger than any child's room I've seen in my tours of Europe's manors and castles. Satin sheets and silk veils hang and sprawl all over the place in various hues of red and gold as my eyes sweep over the room. They dart left and right, these eyes not mine, belonging to a girl half my age. Yet I see through them, even as we speak in a hush whisper from one mouth, "Who's there?"

Nothing, not even a whisper, responds.

"… Mother? Is that you?" She asks as I flow and follow suit. There is a growl building up in our throat. It is caught there and held back by sheer willpower, all of hers and none of mine.

I would have just growled.

We look left and right again. Then we pocket the knife, and we glide through the door. There is a confidence in our step that we both share. That much is true at least. Both of us feel like we own our little fiefs in the world, and perhaps all the world, one day. There is no spring in this step, and I do not even need to make an effort to move.

She whose body this belongs to moves for me. For the moment, I space out and think to myself. This has to be a strange, strange dream. People have these, don't they? They dream of being young again. I confess, I do, but I never really think I need to be this young. No, this is not my usual dream, so perhaps there is some significance in it being so vivid in sight and in touch.

As we draw closer to what must be a grand hall of a palace equal to the size and splendor of the Gu Gong—the Forbidden Palace—I think that this dream is even as vivid as life in its sense of taste and smell.

Breakfast is short. Perhaps it is because I find these functions boring?

Servants scrape and bow on all sides. Many of them are pretty, but only in the medieval sense with only crude makeup and cosmetics available. 'What a strange dream,' I think to myself.

We pause again.

This time, we are more alarmed than before. Our heart beats quicken and our muscles tense up and loosen in a regular, eased pace. With such control over the body and such a functioning body, I have no doubts this is also a dream of being someone incredibly superhuman.

Do you ever visualize your fist breaking through a car window? Or do you ever see yourself leaping up and pulling off a slam dunk? Very few people can actually pull either off, and this indescribable feeling of utter control and power packed in this tiny, lithe body makes me feel like I can do all of that and more. It almost makes me believe in those silly sorts of stories about Qi that some Chinese martial arts teachers speak of from time to time, as if it is some sort of supernatural aspect of physical combat. Ha!

"Whoever you are, this isn't funny," We say, as we pick up the pace. Our voice quivers as does our lip, but she covers it up so remarkably well, that even I barely notice.

It is almost as if she could hear my thoughts. What an amusing concept, I think silently to myself.

She is shaken by my thoughts, though that is understandable. No one will not be shaken if they start hearing a single other person's thoughts as they experience the world through their body. Which 'they' or 'their' this refers to is purposely ambiguous, because it feels like we are but one person, not two, as much as I think we ought to be.

It is strange that I don't struggle and fight as we jog down the halls at somewhere around twenty miles an hour. I, who prize my own freedoms so much, do not care? But you must understand, I still think this a dream.

The shocked numbness disappears by the time we stop before a door. Walking in is simple enough, and she thinks to herself loudly enough for me to hear, 'Looks like Zuzu is sleeping soundly. Rise and wake, dear brother…'

The oaken door clicks to a close behind us.

A young man slumbers on the bed before us. It is equally frivolous, covered in what must be ten layers of red silk with gold embroidery. From the shine in the dim light, it might even be made of real, golden threads.

We walk to the windows, slamming them open, as a giddy feeling runs like a shiver down our spine. Does she take pleasure in the pain of her brother? It seems almost too petty to be a morning person just to mess with her brother Zuzu. Being privy to her thoughts, I realize that I missed something about it all. It is my presence and the surprising whispers that I bring to her mind which causes her to be here now. My dear host plans to confront her brother later, so why now?

Simple. She wants a sense of normality back, and for her it is the suffering of her brother that is normal.

He groans and wakes up, "Ugh… I told—Azula? What are you doing here?"

"Oh, silly Zuzu," She chortles with a hand lingering on the dagger which spins from one hand to the other. It is not expertise that allows her to do this, but simple, inherit dexterity. "Keep up with the times."

"W-What are you talking about?" The boy—so clearly not yet a man—scrambles out of bed without a single ounce of dignity. His feet slide into his red slippers as he tries to pull up and grab the knife from our hands.

Azula is our name. It sounds familiar.

We pull away just before he can reach us, and promptly allow the edge of the blade to knick his skin. It is a shallow cut that doesn't even truly draw any blood. Our eyes become downcast, as if we are truly pitying him, but the happiness that blossoms in our heart of hearts tells a nothing tale entirely. "Poor, poor Zuko. Don't you know not to reach for knifes like that, or you'll get cut?"

"Spit it out, Azula," He groans from his position on the floor. "What… did you hear something about Grandfather?"

"Did you just remember that?" The corners of our lips twitch upwards.

"What happened?"

"Oh, nothing much," We reply, turning away and playing with his knife again. As we walk towards his door, we add, "Grandfather is dead, and mother's gone missing."

The sound of him audibly choking behind us does strange things to our body. "He… w-what?"

"Do get dressed, Zuzu. Don't want the servant girls, or Agni forbid Mai, to see you in your underwear, do you?" We let a last jab go, before we exit the stage that we prepared.

I have heard enough. I have heard enough to know who I am in this dream, and what a roll we have. Oh, it is a delicious one.

As the towering oaken door shuts to a close, and Azula takes the first step away, I think again ad wonder, 'Is it really so fun, to make fun of such a simpleton? Where is the joy in that? Where is the fun in doing what it is you do, if it is only to someone as slow and weak as Zuko?'

"W-Who's there?" She twirls around.

'Sometimes, it is hard to remember that you are only ten years old.' I realize to myself. It is not a thought aimed for her, but it slips through my mental lips nevertheless. She doesn't act as she does in how I know of her, which is why it takes so long to recognize her. This Azula is still young, and without the half-decade of tutelage at being sadistic and cruel under her father's thumb. 'But sometimes it is so hard to forget.'

"Who are you?" She hisses more quietly, now sure of where I am, though unsure of where to turn. There is a rage in her tone, as small embers sprout out of her lips like sparks. And there is confidence, oh yes, so like my own.

'I am the only one you can truly, assuredly trust.'

"Trust is for—"

'I will never fear you. But even so, more than your friends, more than your family, I am the one you can wholeheartedly trust.'

She scoffs and ridicule is at the tip of her tongue. It is so easy for her to find fault in my argument, for she is smart, and wickedly so. "Fool," She sounds so sure of herself now, now that her opponent is replying and she can finally hit back. "There is no one like that."

'Oh, but there is,' I say, as if I had some hidden insight on the workings of the world. I don't.

"You lie," She smirks and twists on her feet, leaving.

'Azula never fears Azula. You have only trust for yourself,' I state, not lying, just implying.

"No." Our eyes are wide. Why?

'Trust me. Trust yourself.'

I stay silent after that, no matter how she tries to refute my false implication. But it is true, of all the characters in this grand play, I do favor her the most. If this is my dream as it should be, then why will her fate turn out in any way but how I want it to? Moreover, this—unlike the torment of Zuko—is fun.​

 

[midnightmissiles]

2；

Li and Lo demand perfection from Azula.

I stay silent, for the obvious reason that my influence will sooner stumble us than help us. There is a deeper reason to this mental and physical lack of action too; I do not know how to 'firebend'. Oh, I do know what martial arts are. I pride myself in being somewhat of a connoisseur of these physical arts, but it is never like this.

In our Earth, martial arts are either a form of performance or a form of breaking your opponent. Most of these things turned to sport are just flashy performances. If you can teach something like this to a child not even ready for elementary school and allow them to advance in rank, then it is more art than martial. Contrarily, to subdue or to break someone, now that is more martial than art. I am more brushed up on the art aspect, but I am a practical person; so I only really paid any attention to the aspect of our martial arts that has purpose beyond performance.

To see—to feel—Azula dance through her passionate forms is a thing of glory. It is equal parts art and violence, because it seems that a large part of even bringing the Qi out into form is to perform. It strikes me as impractical, and it causes me to dig through my memory for the past lessons I learned. A frown creases our brow as I divert a large part of our mind to translating the philosophical bullshit and cryptic nonsense that so many teachers sprout. A small part of us is amused, because many of them are not native speakers of English, and they had not intended to be cryptic in the first place. They simple cannot help it—

'But it makes sense,' the larger part of us realizes.

'What does?' Azula is an intuitive learner, not needing me to prompt her to think her thoughts to me rather than to speak them aloud.

'That thought plays a large part in our firebending. That there is purpose in taking the longer route, to make things pretty, than to take the quickest path to victory.' It makes me sad to realize styles like Wing Chun, and a great many that I know, are useless because they aren't flowery enough.

Not enough swirls and spirals and mimicry of Taoist symbolism for us to use, it seems.

'That is foolish. You are… you're the dummy part of me, aren't you?' She takes a quick breath. It is a deep breath in comparison to her other breaths, but it is unbelievably shallow to us mere mortals. Then she flies into action again.

This is a beautiful display, and I find myself awed.

No, that is incorrect. I am not awed, I just spaced out from watching all the sparkly lights and bright fires. The display dazzles me into speechlessness, and moreover, I cannot but feel the rush of power. I'll admit, if I can truly do this in real life, I'd be a bit of a pyromaniac.

Hell, I probably am one, from the way I dream of this.

'Then why don't you try to bend the heat in the air? Burn the earth and move it as one, boil the water and choke your enemies? You can't, because it is outside of your schools of thought.' I remark to her, not quite refuting that I too feel I am foolish. As sadistic as Azula might be, I must be equally masochistic to like her so much in such close proximity.

The Qi in her hands surges and blossoms like a hundred and forty-four flaming, blue butterflies. Hot rage burns within her, causing her to simultaneously lose control and gain a sort of greater power. It is supposed to be a jab of orange fire. I know this because we have done it eleven times just now.

Our motions are the same as the last eleven times. Why is it that a moment's cold rage and black hatred surround us with these hundred, hundred azure embers?

I do influence her motions now, if nothing but to keep away from the fires. A jolt of fear shoots through my heart as I panic irrationally, even as Azula jabs again to regain control of the flying sparks. I force us to spin, to keep them away and to disperse the heat. They swirl around us as the world blurs and as we spin. Our feet are in motion, left, right, right, left, back, forth—this is all Azula. I do not have the footwork for this. Yet these are coordinated steps, where I can barely hold myself back from shrinking in fear of the heat that tickles our skin. We spin and the dome of flashing blue spins with us. Only then do I realize that the fires are pouring from every pore on our body, and that we are surrounding our very self with a dome of fire. We are like a blue sun in the dark temple yard.

Then it all explodes outwards, with no singe on our body.

'What. Are. You—' Azula bears her teeth, trying to recoup the form that is broken.

'You're the one with the power and passion,' I retort accusingly and smugly. Our dance is a beautiful and frightening display, but also a fluke that we have not destroyed the yard.

'Flatterer,' She sounds amused.

It is easy to disseminate each flicker of flame now that I am not bedazzled. The more I press my sense of self upon our body, the more fluid and weaker the fires become. But this also means they are more manageable. And a even simpler deduction is made when I notice how swirls and spins, motions of Tai Chi and of Taoist symbolism, direct the fires, rather than cause them to lash out.

'I see.' Our eyes widen just a fraction, but our heart skips a beat. And she does, because we only need barely a change of stance and a shift of weight from side to side to hold the hot, spinning dome in place. 'That was so simple. I know how to do that now.'

What a scary ten year old…

The azure flames spin around us, weaker than a single burst and thinner than flaming whips, like a dozen over lapping layers of burning lines making a mesh of fire. I find myself smiling as well, 'An immolating cloak. I wonder what possibilities this has.'

But a motion more and it dissipates.

Lo and Li are upon us immediately. One of them grabs the front of our head and makes a clicking noise under her breath, "Hair flying wild? Should we even bother giving you the best training, Princess?"

"And not only breaking stance, but to not attack further, Princess?" Which one is which, I do not know, but Azula seems to know.

There is a lot we can tell from a person's name.

Shenwu Li and Shenwu Lo are of a long lineage of spiritual advisors. They are of high ranking, as their names suggest, and descendent from a time when we had no temples and only village elders. Yet somewhere along the line some hundred years ago, their family adjusted from advising in the spiritual matters to advising in the matters of war.

After all, war is all that the Fire Nation knows anymore. The spiritual matters can be advised, but why can't war be spiritual?

'That was…' Azula frowned, unsure of how to proceed.

But she does. 'Go on.'

"Strategy is more than just constant offense," Azula tilts our head, just enough to be respectful but to also to still be mindful of our stations. Then blue fire burns, forcing Li and Lo back. It coils around us like a snake. "But sometimes, defense is the best offense."

We beckon with one finger, causing the fires to spin and the winds to pick up. The torches around the temple grounds flicker as they are eaten by a greater beast and hiss to darkness. This is more Azula than I. She so intuitively understands concepts of firebending, anything I try, she will understand.

How dangerous; she can tell exactly when my influence weighs even a feather heavier. This restricts me so much to keep up this fun charade.

"Enough."

The word is harsh and spoken simply, and we look up. A towering, monstrous figure stands at the top of the temple steps. He wears the robe of eightfold elegance, with gold on the crown of his head and a suave, clean goatee. His eyes glimmer in the dimness of the same colors as ours'. He is a dragon…

We fall to one knee on habit, and Azula intones with a sort o gleeful undertone, "Father."

I see why the moment I review the situation. Somehow, Zuko hides in his father's shadow so well that I have not noticed him. Only someone accustomed to him, such as Azula, would know where to pay attention. I suspect Zuko does have the aptitude to grow up to be some kind of Asian, firebending, sword wielding Batman. Ozai, on the other hand, has an overwhelming presence that overshadows everyone else, just by being there. I feel like I just met an evil Bill Clinton. I cannot help but shudder.

Or is it actually Azula shuddering happily to be in her Father's presence?

Ozai smiles thinly as we look raise our gaze to him. Only one of royalty is allowed; Li and Lo back off and scurry off into the corners of the courtyard. "See, Zuko? Your sister is inventing new techniques, as… different… as they may be. She is gifted in many things."

Zuko almost whines. He holds himself back, but stands silently as decorum dictates.

"… On the other hand," Ozai mutters softly, without even looking at his son as he lashes out cruelly. "It is saddening to see you squander your only gift."

"Father?" Oh, come on, you can't be that dumb.

"Life," Ozai says as he walks away. "That is your only gift, and one that I regret giving. Come Azula, you must learn the intricacies of ruling, and I shall be holding court."

We spare Zuko a glance as we pass him up the steps and towards the road to the palace. How many times has he endured something like this? Nevertheless, even as Azula finds delight in this—and then questions herself, if she is wasting her time because of my meddling—I feel apathy overtake any pity I have for Zuko. All your Father wants is for you to stand up for yourself, Zuko. It's so easy to see it now, from the perspective I have, and from my experience on how fathers and sons interact in Chinese culture. 'What a sad waste. Well, you have a couple years…'

I don't spare him another thought for a long time to come.​

 

[midnightmissiles]

3;

'… This is boring,' I remark at last.

As if a metaphorical dam has opened, Azula replies wholeheartedly, 'You think? They have no choice but to grovel. They are already submissive and dominated.'

'Not Lieutenant Zhao,' I point out. The man is suave in the way he navigates the court, but he is good at hiding his ambitious streak. I know better, of course, but he is currently only serving as a glorified secretary to General Shu.

'That glorified secretary? Really?' Azula does not sound disbelieving. Instead, she starts studying the man, to which she adds, 'Hm. Perhaps.'

The court is as grand as any Ancient China soap opera, with the Fire Lord Ozai sitting at the throne, behind a veil of fire. It is like how there is some kind of tradition in Japan where the Emperor is not allowed to be seen? I don't really remember how it went, actually. Nevertheless, only I am allowed within ten steps of the Fire Lord, partly for his safety and partly for my rank and station. At ten paces away, the great generals of the Fire Nations kowtow on one knee, with their hands clasped before them in respectful silence. Behind them are their retinues, such as a Lieutenant Zhao, whose eyes spark with a certain look that I don't like. The way he looks at me, at Azula, is entirely too creepy, when he thinks no one is watching. At twenty paces away from Fire Lord Ozai, the administrators kneel and state their reports. In a land dedicated to war, the civil servants do not rank as nearly as high as warriors, even if they are essential in the baggage train and logistics of the nation. Great lines of gold-gilded pillars line each side of the room, separating different factions of the court. Oh, yes, there are factions…

"The court acknowledges Governor Qiao," one of the servant sages intones. It is left unsaid that the man rising from his knees is one of those within the Bureaucrat Faction, which supports Ozai because they see him as a better candidate for the throne than General Iroh, who is supported by the Sage Faction.

The man sweeps his left sleeve and then his right, before straightening his robe, as is not just custom, but also seen as a stylish motion for able-bodied servants. His face looks straight-laced and his mannerisms prudishly dull, but from the way his eyes shone in the fire light, I think him not unintelligent.

"This Servant Qiao congratulates the Princess Azula on her achievement of the destructive art of Blue Fire," he says. It is what everyone is saying today in court, since I accidentally talked Azula into a moment of single-minded rage. It is also really dull because the last five speakers have said the same thing. "This Servant Qiao is pleased to report to his sovereign majesty, the Okina colony's academy's first batch of students have graduated. Of the two hundred and fourteen who go on to training camps, fifteen have tested well, achieving a place in the military schools of our glorious Capital."

'How many are girls?' I wonder.

'Does it matter? They are captains at best.' Azula scoffs, so sure of herself that she leaves it clear that she does not know either.

I press a little, and stand.

The court sage blinks in surprise, but nods after a moment, as Governor Qiao purses his lips and stops speaking as well. He turns to the Fire Lord Ozai, who smirks. Then the court sage speaks with the clarity that echoes through the chamber, "The court acknowledges the Princess Azula."

'Why did you… I… why did we do that?' Azula's jaw tightens, but she doesn't show any of the turmoil within.

I find myself smiling. "Honored Governor Qiao, I wish to inquire how many of the graduates are girls, and of those, who are the most promising, as I find my interest piqued, but I do not see your reports in my hands prior to this day."

"Princess Azula," He intones in the same dull pitch. "Of the graduating two hundred and fourteen, eighty-four are girls, and two are going on to the officer's school."

"Oh?" Azula raises an elegant brow at that, "And who are these promising individuals?"

Governor Qiao shifts slightly, but the reason for this becomes clear in a moment. "The promising female students are my daughters, Dai Qiao and Sho Qiao."

Ah, I understand. Nepotism, even if only perceived and not real, is often an uncomfortable topic in the meritocratic Fire Nation. It is likely that family tutors allow his daughters to test better than their classmates, and it is not a case of nepotism at all. My eyes gleam at the possibilities. 'We can get out of any shadows any others can cast upon us now, by using this resource at this opportune time.'

'And how do you suppose we find the opportune time with so few and so green a company of recruits? None of them will know what to do, and few would follow a ten-year old into battle.' Azula knows exactly what I plan it seems, the astute, little lass.

'But there are more ways to win a war than to fight. Wars can be won with money and food, and some out-of-context solutions.' I have no doubts that my companion is thinking of something utterly different than what I am planning, but I can see the gears in our mind turning.

'Very well,' Azula nods mentally. A flash of memory runs through her, a picture of Zuko and her mother. But the memory fades, too disinteresting for her tastes, even though she ought not be ready to let them go just yet.

We turn to Fire Lord Ozai, and we sweep our dress and kneel. "Great Fire Lord, I wish to ask a boon."

"Speak."

"I wish to form a special company with the recent graduates, and I ask for them and for officers, and a smith," I request.

He leans back, and watches impassively. Well, he is such to bystanders, but from my close proximity, I can see how his lip twitches at this. "And why should I give such resources to you?"

"Because I will return it a hundred fold, and because I wish to prove my competence in all matters, not simply firebending," We state truthfully.

He watches.

He waits.

It is a trick, I tell myself; a simple one that causes people to think him more profound than he is. But it works and I almost feel nervous.

"Very well," Fire Lord Ozai nods. "War Minister Qin, Governor Qiao, see to that Princess Azula is satisfied."

And thus we stand the next day, at the doors to a one of the many barracks outside of the Fire Capital proper, with just a single scroll in our hand and only Li and Lo behind us. As we push open those heavy, wooden doors bound by dark iron, we stand witness to eighty girls standing in salute, with two of their numbers at their fore and four older officers to a side. 'Not a bad start, right?'

'Mhm…' Our tongue ran against our upper lip in anticipation.

 

[midnightmissiles]

4;

"Let me dispel any and all stupidity," I say once I have their attention. This happens quickly with the gold plate encased scroll in my hands, a mandate from the Fire Lord to form this company. "I have a list of you, and gathered the best of you at my disposal. Best and most promising in your fields, varied and spread out as you are. You thought you were going to learn from a master and go on, on your own, with barely any purpose? So... some of you think you're going to be a royal retinue. This may be so, once you prove your competence and loyalty. I will also reallocate those applicable, with glowing recommendations."

It is tradition for the armies that royalty serve in and lead in to be brought higher honors, but it is also easily deducible that those officers who become a part of a royal retinue face no chance of promotions. To career soldiers, this is the death blow to their advancement and what kills motivation to get ahead. For those who are smart enough to read between the lines, they know what I am offering: a golden ticket to greater promotions.

Azula does not actually care; she didn't even want to add that additional line, originally. It does not benefit her to have loyal and competent soldiers leave her service.

She does not understand building a network, having only learned at Ozai's knee.

She understands building a core team. I do too. You can't achieve anything without a group of people. No one can do anything alone. But Azula does not understand a lot of things.

Azula isn't stupid. She knows and understands that the officers and junior officers of this experimental company are provided by and provided for by House Qiao, a minor merchant family that rose to prominence three generations ago when their grandfather tested into the top one hundred and gained the administrative rulership of a small town as its bureaucratic magistrate. Since then, and since bureaucratic titles are not hereditary, they have been growing to the rulership of a colonial island in the southern Earth Kingdoms region. Azula knows these facts and understands that the House Qiao is financing this venture not for its sake, but for the sake of becoming closer to the royal family.

What Azula does not understand is why I am bothering subverting these eighty girls' loyalty when the Fire Nation's advanced propaganda machine already insures they obey us. Why do I bother spending these extra specks of time for these insignificant plebs?

In a phrase, I am playing the long game while she only lives the short one.

After all, what is the cost of writing a letter, giving a smile, and speaking a few extra words to another loyal servant? This is my dream, and if by this means I raise each and every one of them to a point where I can know all of their faces and names, then all of them are raised above faceless minions.

But that is just one of the many reasons and motivations at play.

"We will see combat," I add. "But we are not a part of the military structure, even if we are organized in part like one. Ladies, as much as I might love war, we are not in that business."

This causes more stirs than the first announcement. It has nearly caught Azula by surprise too, but she sees my reasoning, and ultimately agrees.

In this, we see eye to eye.

Some girls are relieved to not be in the frontlines. They have a ten-year-old, untested royalty as commander, of course they will worry. Some express their emotions with frowns, because they want to earn promotions. Or perhaps they just like fighting and have been expecting it.

So why do we pull this on them then, if first to promise them rewards if they prove themselves, then remove the opportunities for proving themselves? We both see easily into their train of thought this way.

"You will see trade." Azula then speaks, "But we are not a trade company, even if we will see profits like one. We all want to see our great Fire Nation prosper, but it is not through trade."

Then what are we to do?

Why, there is much to do, and none of this is to spread our talent widely like we have so far laid out.

And this is where things get tricky, and Azula leans on me.

"So let me dispel these rumors. You are not a military police, an internal squad like the Earth Kingdom's whispered Dai Li. You are not courtesan spies, or any other such a force. We will do those things, perhaps, when the opportunity allows. You will spy, you will police, you will administrate, but this is not an organization for any of those individual things!" I then ask, "So tell me, ladies, what is our business? What is the business of the Fire Nation?"

They are young still, even the officers. None of them are older than twenty, and all of the graduates are but fifteen years old. Azula wants to assert her dominance, by finding the strongest of them, pushing them to challenge her authority, and utterly and brutally destroy that girl in an Agni Kai that will cow all of them into submission. But their youth is here to be used against them.

To be so young, they must have, at most, only a taste of war. They have not yet been subsumed into conflict—to be on the other side of the world, fighting in ditches or swamps or snow, smelling only the worst excrements of humanity and sleeping with rats and insects, fighting without actual food or cleanliness for weeks on end—only a few battles close to home at most. They still believe in the propaganda of the Fire Nation.

They still believe in us. They want to believe in us. Everything that they are tells them they need to believe in Azula and her righteous cause.

So let us give them one.

'But that is so amateurish, to do that alone. It can be a part of the plan, but the plan is larger than just that,' We discuss, not for the first time. I wonder if I am actually arguing with myself sometimes, being in this dream of mine.

'And what does the other side of me say?' Azula asks, also not for the first time.

"A surgical strike force is not a new thing; we have the Yu Yan Archers, we know the Dai Li, and espionage is not new to us. So we take things one step further, we make a better model of operations and we use our resources to link it all together to not just have a surgical strike force, but also find exactly what sort of touch is necessary. We have but one business that we have set out to accomplish a hundred years ago. It is a noble goal that brings prosperity to all peoples and that goal has guided us to become the strongest and richest in the world. I have in my hands a mandate from the Fire Lord, endorsed by the Sages, the Bureaucracy, and the Generals." I hold up the golden case that holds the scroll of Ozai's script. It is embossed with the dragon and the phoenix, and its sheen catches every eye in the barracks courtyard. "'We who are the head of the body of the Fire Nation dictate the founding of this company, answerable to only the Royal Princess Azula.' So, we have but one goal. It is that which brings the world into one union."

Our eyes sweep over the girls. Somehow, through Azula's natural and trained presence than from any action on my part, we have their undivided attention. They feet must ache as much as ours, to stand so still, for so long.

So we declare, "Girls, we are not in any of individual aspects of the parts of our fine nation, as important as they may be. We are a whole and representing the best of us all. We are in the finest business in the world, the only business that we have worked for, for a hundred years. We are in the business of world domination. You will train to be the best, you will prove yourself loyal, and we shall strategize and plan and seek opportunities, without limits and with a single purpose. Thus I announce the founding of my Royal Order of the Crown's Inquisition."​

 

[midnightmissiles]

Furiko~

5;

'You're not the dummy part of me. You're the boring part.' We groan—for different reasons—in unison. It isn't hard to be bored after spending the last eight hours reading reports—filled with words that I do not know how to read, I might add. The only solstice I can take in these piles of paperwork is how disillusioned with the world and humanity Azula is becoming with each case we deduce.

Touching my cheek with one hand with utter tenderness brings an entirely new sensation to our skin. You know that phenomenon when you touch your skin, you feel little because it's you, right? And if someone else touches that same place, suddenly you're feeling a hundred different things you aren't ready to feel… I don't even remember what it's called.

It works though, for us. If my influence moves that hand, I can feel the nerves lighting up as if on fire within us as a part of Azula's reactions. It's… I guess it would be weird to say that I felt like I was pleasuring myself, in a totally platonic way? How little human contact Azula must have, to be left shivering, breathing hard, and with butterflies and a quivering heart, just from such simple, tender touching? It helps that she's so young, and thus she has not yet lived long enough to be desensitized. 'Would the boring part of you really bring you so many new experiences? I'm the part of you that compliments you; we are marvelous already, but together, more so.'

"You say that, but all we're doing is depressing ourselves," Azula complains with a grumble.

We are in the main offices of the barracks, which we have on lease for the next week, before we set off on our first mission, whatever that may be. There is no one here, but if we speak loud enough, our adjutants Dai and Sho will charge in. Sho is still too eager and unbroken, and her older sister still acts too superior.

We will have to fix that eventually.

"Fine, fine, let's look back at the Omashu report," We turn back to the pile. This is the reports of new, dissident activity that is occurring, where there is also the greatest opportunity.

"Omashu…" Azula's eyes flicker over it. She reads faster than me. I am practiced in simplified Chinese, but the script being used to this day is still traditional, and thus I have to decipher so many words. Some do not even exist. Did you know badgermole in this language is not written as 'badger and mole', but as one entirely new word that does not exist in Chinese? Azula finishes skimming the page before I finish the third paragraph. "I see… not much. We haven't conquered the place, and it only sells a trickle of weaponry to the Red-Omashu Trade Company. What is it that I missed?"

'Money. Follow the money.' I point our eyes towards the profits.

'What of it? They make great profit for… so few shipments…' She begins to see, but not completely.

'And? What do they sell to Omashu?' I prod on.

'Cabbages and fish, but that isn't too strange. Omashu is mostly a mountainous region with little farmland, if it is closed off… but then they have their underground mazes for sneaking in.' Our forehead creases with a frown. 'So? They're extorting the enemy civilians. That isn't…'

I find myself chuckling, "Come now. Do you see the profit numbers? Converted on current market prices from the fish lost per shipment in the Crescent Island Pirates report, the price of the lost cabbages alleged by the cabbage merchant's complaints, and look at the profits… see this?" I scribble down some numbers in cursive Chinese. "With an operational input of 2,500 kilograms of silver and the costs of 15 kilograms per year, they issue a profit of 750 kilograms this year. They report it as… look, the Red-Omashu Trading Company has stock trading in the Capital, and it lists a constant growth of a three-year growth pattern of 33%, 35%, 28%, and 39% every quarter. This might be so for the first operating year, but for the past twenty eight years and consistently?"

"… What are you… what are we getting at?" Our eyes sharpen and squint.

I want to scream Ponzi scheme, but we have no proof. This can be big… because the company is making quite a few other established trading companies upset by shaking up the established, relatively peaceful way of things in the court, and with the new money flooding in from somewhere, they will need to take an aggressive stance on the war to maintain the façade, even if these are real profits.

No, people constantly pushing for war, and thus establishing a blossoming military industrial complex outside of our reach is never a good thing…

"We should investigate them," I mutter cautiously.

"That isn't easy. War Minister Qin is one of their major shareholders," Azula notes. But her interest is piqued. She licks our lips. "This can be interesting."

"If our intuition is right, then outing a corrupt bureaucrat will show our prowess to everyone in the court. This would not be fighting prowess, but the prowess of administration." I keep to myself that even if we don't find what we do go in for, there is the matter that they don't even use double-entry, so there's going to be someone laundering money. Considering that they are also a trading company that operates in a warzone which the Fire Nation only controls about 18% of the province…

Well, even if not this, we'll find someone doing something bad.

'This still feels like something beneath me,' Azula sighs after we pen in our intentions.

'Of course it is. But just because a bug is beneath you, it does not mean mosquitoes will not bite you.' When in doubt, agree. Always agree. Agreeing is the best way to show that you are so similar, in addition to sharing the same body and voice, even inside the head.

'We should squash the bug then.' Blue fire blossoms in our fingertip.

I quench it, having come to understand the usage of flames better now. At the very least, I can control the Qi within, even if I can't produce as powerful flames as Azula. 'If we go in, killing everyone, burning down all of their operations bases…'

'I'm not stupid,' Azula rolls our eyes. I'm so proud; she learned that gesture from me just after three times.

'But if we have irrefutable proof?' I ask, allowing her to form the idea on her own and believe it hers.

'Then father will allow us free reign over these traitors.'

Well, close enough.

Really, do we even have time to torture financial thieves, of all people? I sigh as we set to work immediately. There is a lot to do, after all, to coordinate our efforts.

The best skill which I impart onto Azula, or so I hope, is the ability to delegate and manage our resources. Of the one hundred and twenty members of our fledgling organization, forty-seven are fire benders. Fifteen of the one hundred and twenty are officers of one kind or another, logistics, tactics, cavalry, navy, night-fighting, resource management, paperwork and that sort of secretarial aide. It's a good number for training the rest.

Fifty of my girls are sixteen year old trainees entering for the sake of combat trained in fighting on ships, cavalry, and in darkness. Ten of them are non-bending archery specialists. Of the rest, fifteen are artists, artistic craftsgirls, secretaries, and the sort with miscellaneous skills. Ten more are originally career bureaucrats, from moderately well-off merchant families. These ninety are all educated finely with our Fire Nation's academies in combat, mathematics, scripts, history, and basic engineering and sciences, though some of them will not see combat at all.

The remaining thirty are more common girls chosen because they only attended basic schooling for mathematics and language, but their family had no money to pay for advanced schooling. They are our girlpower. I refuse to use the term 'manpower' for them! Anyway, they volunteer for several years in the local militia to have some funds for themselves, but now they have a purpose.

All of them have spent at least six years in informal training and four in formal training and drilling 'self-defense'. In the Fire Nation, our girls are as skilled in combat as our boys, after all. The entire structure of our numbers is that a vast majority of us are more educated than the average citizen. And that is what we want; we will use every force multiplier in every way available to us, for every operation. And it is such a waste to throw my girls into a meat grinder…

… And more importantly, with experience and training, we can become a much more formidable group operating within the system.

"Sho, Dai," We call. "Li, Lo."

They enter. Sho hops in, while Dai saunters in, as if she owned the place. I have little doubts that her family actually does own this barracks. The two older crones come to our side quicker, but no less haughty. It's also as if they are instructed to pressure Azula into working for impossible perfection.

"Princess Azula," They bow, as is customary.

I hold up the gold case, immediately giving my words the authority of the Fire Lord, rather than the Fire Princess. "Li, Lo, you will instruct, but not obstruct. Have twenty girls be given new identities, from every corner of the Fire Nation. They are to become employees in the Red-Omashu Trading Company. Get our officers to have dossiers made of everyone in the company, I want profiles of everyone from janitors to the Chairman Sato. I want to know what their vices are, when and where they sleep, and their every secret. Be discrete. This is on your heads."

Shenwu Li and Lo bow, receiving the word of the Fire Lord and do not dare question Ozai. I do not let go of the scroll, and thus they do not dare question us yet. But we know their questions. They will ask why do we target the complaint filer rather than the general in charge of pacifying the region, or just go straight for seeking out the rebels in the region. They think so small, and they think we do not read between the lines.

"Why bother?" Dai whispers to Sho.

They giggle like the teenage mean girls that they probably are. Or maybe they aren't, but they certainly picked it up somewhere.

Our glimmering, golden eyes dart towards them.

Something snaps within me.

They think just because they are older and stronger, they can expect any sort of groveling from me that they have had from all their underclassmen back in their little provincial island? Or do they think that they do not need to be serious, here in private, with a ten-year-old princess?

Azula takes us forward a step, but I nearly growl, causing blue embers to leak from the corners of our lips. "Dai, you seem to not understand the reports you brought me this morning. According to the intelligence gathered by the three neighboring trade companies, the Red-Omashu Trading Company earns every three months about as much as half of the city of Omashu does in a year. How long do you think it will take for them to have the money to simply buy the court into invading Omashu and expand to hide their indiscretions that will soon cause their entire structure to fall apart if they do nothing? I give them five years. Two years, if they aren't airheads like you two are acting like."

She titters back, as if I am speaking a foreign language to her.

Maybe I am.

"Then again, it seems like all I've done all day is spend my hours pent up in this office." Azula stretches us a little, making the most comfortable feelings to happen in our body. 'I'm going to do it.'

'… Fine. Don't overdo it. Scarring isn't pretty.'

'Of course!'

"Come, Dai, Sho," We beckon as we step into the courtyard where our girls are drilling. "It seems I must first prove myself. This can be a good learning experience for us all."

It certainly will be educational for every one of them.​

 

[midnightmissiles]

6;

We duck low. Our back bends forward and we allow a stream of fire fly above us. Then we throw ourselves to our right, spinning, while throwing up a blade of blue fire up from the ground.

This is harder than I thought. We are barely able to keep up with Dai and Sho at the same time.

Not for the first time since we began this fight, I berate myself for thinking this Azula is the same unmatched Azula who defeated the Avatar Aang at turns left and right. She is talented compared to the average firebender. She might even be exceptional. But we are not developed enough. We are just beginning to explore blue fire—the explosive flames that are more solid than those orange-red streams that are flying left and right and above us.

Dai and Sho quickly learn that their individual fires cannot overpower Azula. With my influence mimicking Azula's our fires explode out of our hands. It seems like I have Qi of my own, though mine is much less than Azula's, I think. Going all out with our attacks, we easily fill half the courtyard with blue heat, even if much of it barely tickles the girls who are watching from a distance.

But those bursts are few and in-between, and leave me barely able to keep conscious.

Azula is doing barely any better. Just because our individual flames can overpower, this does not mean we can endure having twice as many heated missiles slamming into us. As with most firebenders, we are nigh-immune to fire as long as they are below a certain degree of… spiritual power, or perhaps heat? I don't know. All I know is that for every blast we block while standing still, three get through our defenses. They hit us like jabs and they hurt. It might also be that Azula is blocking their attacks, but they come too close for comfort if they still impact like slingshot rocks. I don't understand enough and I haven't observed enough to know the difference.

'We're going to be bruising tomorrow morning,' I note ideally as we roll again.

'Less talky, more fighty,' Azula barely retorts before turning her attention back to the fight.

The twins are good. I doubt they are going all out, just as we aren't trying to kill them. Instead, they are playing the game of 'area denial'; for every attack I get off, they now purposely shoot weaker hits that dissipate almost twice as quickly as their previous flames. When you can't move sideways or up, or even forward, you will be pushed to a corner.

I twitch our nose, and notice the flickers that twitch in response. It works? Interesting… Thankfully, this does not affect Azula's concentration as she pushes back against the sisters. I lament, 'This wouldn't have been so bad if we just kept it as a sparring match. Never had to turn it into Agni Kai.'

Azula doesn't respond; I have the distinct impression she isn't happy with complaints.

Fine, 'Charge up, I'll keep up defense.'

Azula dips her chin in assent and the ground blurs. It still amazes me how quickly we run. It also amazes me how Azula instinctively trusts me and acts as if she knows what I plan to do. Again, I remind myself, this is not the Azula who develops into the character that I know; this is a real person… and a ten-year-old at that.

I twitch our nose and lips again, like that one olden days television show about that witch or something that got remade with Will Ferrell. I don't remember what it's called.

A crude shield appears before us. It is barely large enough to be a mask than a shield; but it is fire and it blocks their weak shots. They don't react immediately with heavier blows, but that is simply because Dai and Sho rely on their innate talent for faster bursts to intimidate fights to an end; they don't have experience to react instantly. Azula is just that talented to be so quick, and I have some fifteen years of martial arts on my side.

It is an extra boon how powerful blue fire is. They don't really emphasize on this in the show, but our fire is not only more explosive—and thus more dangerous—but it is also more solid, which makes it a wonderful defensive capability. The difference is if we are blocking an arrow, the traditional firebender must either exude a fire hot enough to turn the arrow into ash, dodge it, or make a heat wave hot enough to turn the arrow, where as our fire can outright block it; after the trail dissipates, the arrow just falls to the ground as if the wall it just struck turned into air.

All of this allows me to use our feral facial expression to make a spearhead which causes Dai and Sho's fires to wash over us like water.

At the same time, fire snakes out of Azula's hands like conical flamethrowers, pushing the sisters to stand back-to-back as they block with their weaker fires.

As we close in from ten paces to two in that single second, we roar in premature triumph.

It is enough to shoot the blue fire we held before our eyes forward. I am all for a little drama, so I shape it like a dragon's head. Well, I try, but the edges dissipate before it flies even one pace, leaving only a maw of blue fire to wash over the Qiao sisters. It looks sort of like the jaws of a great white shark in blue fire; you know the skeleton-type sort that some beaches have hung up here and there?

Unlike how we stand bruised but unburned, the sisters clearly caught on fire from that flaming jaw attack. They yelp, but Azula waves and the fires fall off of them. 'No scarring, hm?'

'It takes more than fear to earn respect. You have to give it. Hold your hands out to them.' I instruct, though a sense of something warm blossoms in my chest. Is that pride I feel for Azula?

'Why? They can pick themselves up.' Azula is honestly confused by that. But then the undertone of Ozai's teachings rears its ugly head. 'And besides, they're losers.'

'It doesn't take you anything, but it'll make them like you.' Feeling that I am not getting through to her, I try a different tactic. It's a simpler one, but one that works on me when I was younger, if nothing else. 'Look, earns about as much loyalty as frightening them ten times, and it barely costs you anything… wouldn't they like you more than Zuko instinctively because of something like this?'

Azula pouts mentally, 'Fine.'

We approach as Qiao Sho picks up her sister, and we lend a hand. "Good match."

Qiao Dai looks away, either prideful or sheepish, we can't see. Sho, on the other hand, begins to smirk. "I can see why you're a princess. Are everyone in your family as good?"

"No, my brother's…" Azula makes a face.

"Ah. Well, I can see why they call you a genius. Sorry about the… thing. It's just we thought we'd be babysitting you or something," Sho has the decency to look away from our stare as she says this.

I smile—my will to smile overpowers Azula's will to frown anyway. "You can see I don't need babysitting. I need competent officers. Can you do that?"

Sho ponders on this, clearly not seeing my meaning.

Dai does. "We didn't cheat on any tests. We crammed our butts off, we can put a ship together, we can run a business, and we can differentiate different fuels. Archery, bending, hand-to-hand, stealth, riding, you name it, we can do it. We're the best of our class."

"Really?" We smirk as one. Then we raise our voice, so that the whole courtyard can hear us, "We will be holding a series of contests tomorrow. The winners will become the company's champions, for defending our honor… but those winners shall also be invited to the court for the royal end-of-the-year celebrations."

That gets the hush whispers going, some more than others, and it sounds like an echo with so many girls suddenly interested. After all, who doesn't want to meet a prince charming?

Too bad the only prince is… Ugh…

We pat both Qiao sisters on their shoulders, sliding our hands down to their elbow. It's a simple form of showing that we are not holding any grudge against them. "Good fight," we say again. "Now be more professional, because if you were serving under a different officer, you'd have lost your career."

Sho sound stricken, "Um. Oh. Oh! I'm sorry, uh, ma'am!"

We chortle, "Princess works. Or you can address me as commander while we're here."

"Um, right, Princess," Sho mutters. Why is her face red?

We touch her forehead for a moment, just to check. It looks a bit silly, I think, because we have to stand on tip toes to reach Sho's forehead.

Huh, nothing. Weird.

"Take care of yourselves and standby for further instructions. Li, Lo," We call to our attendants. "Divide up the officers, will you? We left separate stacks of dossiers on our table, use that as reference. We will be splitting operations between the home islands and the Omashu territory."

"Is that wise?" Li asks.

"And so early?" Lo adds.

Drat. The scroll is back at the office. We spin to them, knowing that they will be questioning us every step along the way. "You will do as you are told, or be removed permanently. But you raise a valid point, why do we both having operations in two locations? Why do we split our attention to the two places that the organization we are investigating have headquarters in? Why are you two being so irritable?"

From the looks on their faces, this must be the first time Azula has so blatantly spoken back to them. Whatever, I don't care about two old crones who can't even see whose star is rising.

"Make sure to have half of the agents purposely flunk their entrance into the company to make sure the others get in. Have those who flunk start setting up a place of operations and surveillance of their area, and handle any information our insiders get. I want our combat squad to run messages between them and us, and I want no actions being taken until we have a complete spread of control over the information within the company. Most of all, I want to know where the money is coming from, who handles it, and where it's going." We pause in our step, turn back and see Li and Lo following us as if they are following Ozai. Good. It's time to turn their little conditioning act back on them. "Well? What are you waiting for? Get to it!"

'Now then…' Azula muses as we walk into our quarters. 'How did you bend without… bending?'

'After all that, that's what you want to know? I did it because while we are different sides of a coin, you are obviously the dominant personality.' I roll our eyes.

'Obviously,' she blinks and sighs. 'Fine, let's not worry about that. I think I already figured out how we did that. How are we supposed to pay for all of these operations though? We only have the funds of a military company, and that's already used for the rations, equipment, wages…'

'Isn't that obvious? We use the Red-Omashu Trading Company's money.' We giggle. Then we see Sho and Dai standing aside awkwardly for some reason. "What are you two standing around for? Isn't it dinner time? I'm rather famished!"​

 

[midnightmissiles]

7.

We stand at the harbor of the colony, which House Qiao administrates. It is of a moderate size. Over fifty fishing boats that each carries less than ten people at most, some dozen or so junks, and a single ironclad galley are docked here. Several thousand people are bustling up and down the hill leading from the pier to the town with all sort of crates, wagons and carts. There is a stinking smell of fish and oyster here and it causes me to crinkle our nose. Rather than disgusting Azula however, it just causes her to feel a tinge of hunger. Maybe it's because it smells like blood-in-the-water?

Due to our cold headdress and armored retinue, we are given relatively wide berth. It is just enough that I can see the girls aren't getting knocked into the water. The ship we are taking is actually a junk, which is anything but junk in actuality. There is a sort of flavor to the ship, for its sails to spread to so wide and its color so vibrant. It reminds me of one of the ships I saw in Hong Kong when I first visited as a child.

"Princ—er, Commander? May I have permission to speak freely?" The girl beside me, clad in light scale and soft leather, stutters with a quiver. She is one of the twelve who are accompanying us asks as we board the ship to the Capital. It pleases us that our presence makes her so afraid to speak, but it pleases me more that she

Azula almost replies instinctively before I can stop her, 'No.'

"Granted," I grumble. 'Do you want stupid minions or smart companions? It's not like they even can question you for the sake of hurting you; the most they can do is help you figure out if our plan has any problems.'

"Why are we going back to the Capital? Shouldn't we go to Omashu?" The girl asks almost too naïvely. But then again, she is only sixteen years old.

I turn to the shangdengbing and see her fellows watching on carefully. It feels good to know that they are as intelligent as I thought them to be when I chose them. When I stand in this cesspool of a pier they call a dock and have the ten different scents of urine and feces assail my senses, it is all too easy to forget that they are individually as intelligent as modern day people. Sure, they aren't as well educated and they aren't nearly as developed industrially, but humans are humans no matter how you look at it. In fact, since most high ranking officers in the military (males) choose to promote or train people who are similar (other males), it is easy to see that I have the crème of the crop. Why the Fire Nation, which treats women and men equally in the military, does not crack down on such sexist behaviors is a mystery to me, but who cares, right? I'm benefitting…

Shangdengbing Lin and her eleven troops are actually not anyone spectacular. Of the twelve, only Lin and two others are firebenders. Three others are archers, but the rest are—were—suppose to be regular shield-wall-and-spear troopers. Sneaking a peak at their language and mathematics scores, I lament how wasted their talents are by this (relatively) inefficient Fire Nation bureaucracy. We are choosing to teach them double-entry bookkeeping and other accounting tricks and Azula will teach them basic legalese and legal tricks she learned from Ozai on this boat trip.

In the end of a long discussion between Azula and me, we want to start nurturing an army of accountants and lawyers, auditors and inspectors. The Inquisition has to diversify somehow after the war ends, doesn't it?

"Shangdengbing Lin," We address her professionally. They are small things, recognition and acknowledgement, but Azula's eyes zoom immediately upon how the older girl's shoulders straighten ever so slightly. "I trust Li to teach Sho and Lo to teach Dai, and the reversed as well. We are going to the Capital because we require… additional resources, and knowledge."

'That's a nice way to say we don't trust Li and Lo to plot together.' Azula muses, 'Sparing the sisters was a weak decision, no matter how you look at it.'

I resist an urge to sigh mentally. She hasn't let this go for the past twelve hours. 'They owe us their lives. They know this: we can finish them off at any time. This means we can let them keep Li and Lo on track. Anyway, all four of them are competent enough, however you look at it.'

'Then why not send them to Gaoling?' Azula asks. There is a spark of curiosity in her.

The funny thing about that is that there is a Gaoling in China. That Gaoling is one of the more industrious prefectures of China, though out of the way. It so happens our Gaoling is similar. But what makes this Gaoling so special, aside from it being the residence of Beifong Toph, is that it is a center of commerce for mineral resources, near the mouth of a river and a bay, and it is in a wonderful location for domination of the southern-most hemisphere. Oh, Omashu and some other places are certainly better, but none are as nearly as rich or developed. In the short term, what little infrastructure they have and what little industrial culture they have makes them much more valuable than towns like Kiyoshi Island. That said, I reply to Azula, 'Because Gaoling is only a temporary headquarters. You know that; we're just trying to feel out the location.'

'We're still spreading ourselves out too much,' Azula grinds finally.

I hum noncommittally. She does have a point; we are moving too fast. As with most successful investors will say, there is nothing to fear from moving too slowly.

We just don't have the time for that.

"Hello, Captain Guai," We say as we step onto the ship. "Ready to depart?"

Captain Guai looks more like an onion smuggler than a civilian vessel captain, but I don't judge much by looks. There is an air about him that smells of the sea, even when he is on land. He is curt in that same way, rumbling but gentle. "Depart? Already, milady? The lads haven't had their fill!"

That is the problem with contracting civilian vessels. Sure, three are used; one is for Li and Sho, one is for Lo and Dai, and finally, one is for us. Two are on their way to their destination now, and we are merely here to see them off, while picking up some supplies that are 'gifts to the new company from House Qiao'. It might be a sort of bribe to keep his daughter alive, a way to curry more favor, or something else. I don't know, but it will help sustain the company until we're done. Still, these civilian boats are patriotic enough to offer us discount rates, and we would not hinder the war effort by taking a military vessel, despite our importance.

We are still in home waters, after all, and all military vessels are busy catching Water Tribe scum.

There is little about the Qiao Colony that is great; in fact it is rather droll and quaint. I know I am using my own biases of modern development, but Azula feels the same way as I on this matter. It so happens she spent her life in the most developed city of the Fire Nation, so that might have something to do with it. We just want to leave as quickly as possible. Still… "Fine, we leave at noon then."

Then I step into our cabin below decks, ignoring any of the inconsequential complaints and bickering of the crew authoritatively. 'Yeah, respect my authority.'

Most of the girls do not actually know why we are so focused on Omashu or the Red Omashu Trading Company. They think it's because we're trying to help the company push for domination of the region. After all, if taken, there is but a single bastion left in the Earthen Kingdoms. Oh, there will still be fortresses, towns, and small spreads of rich manors, but there will be no more walled cities to stand before us. So it does not come as a surprise to me when Lin asks, "What resource is at the Capital that is so dire, Commander?"

Azula resists the urge to growl. It is close though, because she has been repressing the urge to tell everyone to shut up for hours now. I answer for her, "Oh, I want to ask my friend Kang Mai to join us."

"I understand," Lin nods.

"No, no you don't," I reply immediately.

"Commander?"

"Her father, Kang Cao, is the largest shareholder and one of the initial seed investors of the Red Omashu Trading Company. He is also a man who wants to climb the marble steps… It stands that we must align our interests," I say at last. It will not do to reveal too much, too soon. Mai's father's ambition is known well enough in the court circles; it is expected someone as well-educated and rich as him will be entering the royal court as a governor or a magistrate sooner than later.

All the gossip we hear says this.

But what side is Mai's father on? And which side will Mai be on?

I find my lips curving as we muse. Maybe it is bad lightning of the lower cabins or the waves rocking the junk, but our dear escorts look like they shivered as they watched and waited for their expected lesson in the art of paperwork. 'Well, let's not keep them waiting.'​

 

[midnightmissiles]

Zuko got a dragon when he was like 80 or something.

8.

Unlike what you might think of Ba Sing Se's separation of classes with huge, imposing walls, this phenomenon in city building is not unique. The only difference is that the Fire Nation Capital does not actually have walls separating each 'ring'.

It once did a long time ago, when the Fire Nation was called the Fire Islands and were made up of a dozen or so feuding warlords. But that time has passed millenniums ago, and we have long since taken apart the three layers of walls for building materials. It has been centuries since our naval military might was weak enough to allow armies to land, after all.

The walls that remain are smaller and more for show than practical walls. Those areas we cleared of walls are then turned into giant, functional, and dual-level roads. The top level is just for pedestrians and is very small at that, because we have not yet the engineering and materials capacity to make such sprawling roads for wagons and carts to ferry easily. There is even a new, fourth ring road now, outside of which we have many of our key industrial manufactories on the capital island. That road is a legacy of the era when the war fell into a lull for a decade after the then-Prince Iroh was born.

House Kang is in the second ring of the Fire Nation Capital. It denotes that they are rising in the ranks of military or bureaucracy, because merchant houses are not considered one of the noble professions (in fact, like in much of Chinese culture, mercantilism and trade is often considered below the ranks of peasantry who produce agriculture, since unlike food, trade is no necessary for human life). Mai's house, as we affectionately label it with the excessive possessiveness, is not lavish like many of the other families that have newly come into a power or wealth and sought to prove themselves by massive patronage to the industries, troops, and social welfare for families of the enlisted. However, it does share the similar style, which is the Shiheyuan—the Chinese quadrangles.

The Shiheyuan are housing complexes that can hold many families, with a main gate painted in red and guarded by a twin of thick, red pillars, facing south as is most Fengshui. Of course, it is also common logic, because the winds that the Chinese suffer from the most are northern winds—though the Fire Nation Capital suffers more of a southern wind, and thus most gates are built facing the north. Here, a main house on the south side of the vast, square-shaped complex, while cousins and concubines usually live in the smaller, shorter structures that line the east and west sides of the complex and the servants live at near the gates. For moderately wealthy complexes such as Mai's house, there is a second gate on the inside.

As we enter the first gate, I marvel at how far this man has come. He tested up from the ranks of the military into a bureaucratic position, allowing him both power in the administration and power in the army. This means that Mai's father is not only competent in one field, but at least three. Why three? While the Fire Nation is a meritocratic nation by many means, anyone who wants to anything higher will also need to be proficient in swimming the court politics, network with the correct people, make friends and influence the right people. It is not to say that Mai's father is a particularly powerful—his presence is not mandatory in the royal court, after all.

Still, he has wormed his way into a powerful position under the Ministry of Finance. It is perhaps there that he gained all of his money to invest into the Red Omashu Trading Company, which then infers he is invested in the complete conquest of Omashu and monopoly of its resources.

And what powerful position does he have in the Ministry of Finance? Why, we can find him leaving the office of the secretaries and entering the courts these days as the Superintendent of Iron Production.

And if I must say it out plainly, for a nation that needs iron for its army and navy, this makes Kang Cao a powerful man indeed.

'… But I'm still unsure of what he wants,' I remark not for the first time.

'What do all men rising in power want? They want permanency of their status, respect of their peers, and no attention from their superior,' Azula wonders good-naturedly, even though we both have no use for the hedonistic, intangible thing called 'respect of our peers'.

'You sound like Fire Lord Ozai.' I might go as far as say that she is quoting him.

'Father is usually a great judge of people's desires,' Azula responds noncommittally.

'There has to be something more,' I say. 'Else he would not welcome us so openly.'

Once again reminding me of how young and inexperienced she actually is, Azula asks mentally, 'Can't he be overjoyed in welcoming the Fire Princess and his daughter's future patron?'

I don't get a chance to retort further, because at that moment, we arrive at the opened second gate. At the top of those eight steps is a stern, well-groomed man in humble, red robes. His hair is graying slightly at either side, and his face is lined with sighs of decades of smiles and frowns. This is Mai's father, and he walks brazenly up to me without observance of proper courtesy.

My girls stand at least two paces behind me like proper guards in an administrator's home, though Lin is just a pace to my right, like a proper secretary. They twitch at Kang Cao's motion, despite having just been run through days of continuous, bog-like paperwork.

"Princess Azula!" At one pace away, Mai's father bends his waist and even turns his eyes to the gray floor tiles just before my toes. Then he lurches up and grasps my shoulders, "How good it is to see you!"

"… and I you," Azula smiles acidly. She then makes a cute showing of looking around, "Where is Mai?"

"Mai is with her mother, shopping," He subtly steers us away from the gate to one of the side houses, which is probably a tea room or a lounge.

"I see. I will impose upon your hospitality then, Superintendent Kang," We allow a slight nod.

"You are friend of family! You do not impose at all, I insist. We shall have tea and snacks!" Then Mai's father claps twice and only then do I notice that we have drifted from the courtyard and into a lounge. Several servants stream in, dressed as simply as Mai's father. Lin stands behind me as my aide, but everyone else is ushered out by other servants.

Azula makes a hand signal that everything is fine discretely. We allow them to seat us, but we stay otherwise silent as Mai's father watches us.

After a sip, he says in a way like he is discussing the weather, "So I heard you have taken an interest in Omashu, Princess."

"My, and where did you hear that?" Azula returns coyly. It is a little creepy that we can act so coy at ten years old.

He winks, "Word travels fast. The eyes of the nation are upon you, Princess."

Behind us, Lin takes out her handy-dandy notebook and begins to scribe down our conversation. She is discrete enough, having been told to be so many times, that we don't notice Mai's father's glance turn that way.

"Then you know why we are here?" I am honestly curious about that, and I hope it shows on our adorable, ten-year-old face.

"I am assuming this is related to the Omashu Province?" The administrator coughs into one fist as he sees our nod and then sweeps his robes straight in one fluid move familiar to all who aspire to rise to the royal court. "I pledge my support, Princess."

"Then tell me," Azula blurts without thinking, only feeling that she had a way to him. "How much of the Red Omashu Trading Company do you own?"

I stop myself from reaching up and slapping us in the back of the head. 'Why are you asking that?'

'Why not? His word is binding, and if he fails to comply, he doesn't have a future in the Fire Nation,' Azula replies as if the answer is obvious.

It isn't. 'And what's to stop him from snuffing us out?'

'He wouldn't.' We blink, and look up at the tall, elder man. 'He wouldn't… that would be traitorous!'

'Cornered rats will claw and bite through your chest, if the other alternative is to be burned alive. I doubt Kang Cao is the sort of man to be alarmed by such a question, but it does make him suspicious,' I find myself saying rapidly as Mai's father begins to reply.

"It is a venture founded by a comrade of mine back when I was just a footman. Sato was from the northern colonies, and it took him some time to fit in, but he's savvy and thrifty. I believe, after the last offering, I own something like twenty five percent?" He muses.

"Wonderful! Then perhaps we can impose upon the company to aide us in our operations in Omashu?" I ask quickly. That may be too quick, but I am panicking to erase every suspicion.

Superintendent Kang shakes his head. "I'm afraid I am but one of five board members of the trading company…"

Azula does not relent. She cuts him off viciously, "You know I have writ and authority to take over operations completely, sir. I don't because I want to foster cooperation and growth."

"This isn't how to do either, Princess." Mai's father's eyebrows furrow together into a frown. He is beginning to become upset. "In fact, such a thing might anger many of the other board members of the company."

"Oh?" When did he move so close? "Perhaps you are right. It is a publicly traded company. But you know, we need to ensure success, and sometimes that requires sacrifice."

"I will help all I can, Princess Azula, but you cannot ask the company to devote its resources. That would demolish our nation's interests in the region," He protests, with a slight hitch in his tone, but he is otherwise calm enough despite being louder.

Yet I can see that he is letting up. It is easy to see he did not expect us to push towards this respect; we are but a child. Corruption is not uncommon in this country; as long as you are competent and you complete your goals, pocketing a little extra is often something that is overlooked.

Azula doesn't know what corruption can do to us, what it can lead to. Or perhaps she does, but it is a fact of life for her. It is one for me too… I am from China, after all. But I hate it.

I despise it.

And more importantly, for someone as powerful as Mai's father to be upset, there must be someone else behind him. It can't be Sato, the public face of things, and it can't be the man before me. They will gain, but someone else is pushing this all. There is something else going on here, all for the sack of Omashu.

"Who is really in charge?"

Kang Cao's hand rests upon the shoulder of my seat. It does not touch us, thus it is appropriate enough, but it lands there without a sound. I am reminded of how skilled Mai is with sharp things. "You can anger many powerful people looking into such things, my Princess. Such things could be deadly… for your new organization and those involved."​

 

[midnightmissiles]

9.

"… Dad, what are you doing?" A girl asks as she slinks out into the tea room with the laze of a feline. This girl is in fact a head taller than us, despite being our age. A spark of familiarity shines in her golden eyes, but it fades quickly as her eyes dart to her father. Then she slaps her forehead. "Dad… you're an embarrassment."

And just like that, all the tension leaves the room. Mai's father tugs on his collar and backs away. "Now, now, Mai, my daughter, where is your mother?"

Mai rolls her eyes like an expert teenager. With that same nonchalance, she replies, "Mom is picking out a dress for Azula. You don't mind, do you?"

"No," we say and sit back to watch the fireworks.

Mai immediately rounds on her father again, "Mom's really mad you didn't tell her Azula's coming, Dad. She wants to talk. In your room, and take all your lackeys too."

While we love to see Kang Cao squirm, he squeezes out a final, "We can resume our talk at dinner, Princess Azula." Then he bolts.

Well, no, he doesn't break into a sprint, but it is about as close as to a run without actually being one.

"What is that all about?" We ask as Mai takes her father's seat.

She barely looks up, choosing to make her presence almost as unknown as possible, where as our presence makes the air heavier and choking. Then Mai glances down at her nails, as if she cannot maintain eye contact for long. "Dad's former commanding officer is General Mao."

'Ah.' That says a lot, actually.

High General Mao is one of the generals who are overshadowed by General Iroh's grand strategies and offensives in the last decade (such as the famous Siege of Ba Sing Se). Rather than attacking the heartland of the Earthen Kingdoms, Mao is delegated to pacifying the northern colonies, a meager job for someone below his station. It brings no glory to have to break up fights, and the only reason he is given the job is because the territory is so vast and thus the manpower necessary is large enough that only a general can do it.

He has done well for himself though. In the reports on current affairs, we see him transferring from being just another High General to being the Governor-General of the region that is known as the Grand Fire Nation Resort or the Su Oku province if entrepreneurial citizens keep immigrating there.

It has made Governor-General Mao a very rich man, but with only less than 5,000 Fire Nation citizens in the whole area, it has not fallen under proper administration. Thus, the Governor-General is also a very powerful man, and we have no doubts he acts as if the region is his own fiefdom, as most people do with such power. With such amenities, no one will want to leave, unless to rule an even richer land, like Omashu, for example. To be honest, even his current title of 'Governor-General' might well be a misnomer, because of the extent of his power in the region might well crown himself a king of the river region…

But what this also says is if we pursue this line of thinking, then Kang Cao is but one of the many proxies that General Mao uses to keep control over the Red Omashu Trading Company. "Does he offer your family protection?"

"Yes," Mai does not elaborate further, but we understand.

'So they cannot help us. The Governor-General's forces are watching them. Disgusting!' Azula grumbles as the fires within her heart builds.

'You don't approve?' I ask softly.

'Approve? It undermines the war effort! We may as well lose while we bicker with each other…' She rants as our face twists into something unpleasant.

'… You know, this is only possible because a general is allowed to hold a political position,' I prod on.

Azula widens our eyes. 'Then we must separate the military from the lawmakers!'

'Are you sure?' I ask. 'If they don't have military experience, then how do they know what laws to make for the war effort? And if the colonies do not have a titular leader, then how do they coordinate any efforts?'

'What are you mumbling about now?' Azula grimaces. A jolt of irritation shoots through us, and her tone reflects this, 'We are the titular leader. Lawmakers can be bickering philosophers for all I care, but colonial governors need to have their powers limited.'

That actually doesn't solve—

"Azula, you're making a face," Mai interrupts our conversation.

"So I am. I just realized this might go deeper than I realized… and it might be larger than we set out to tackle," We admit.

Mai rolls her eyes again. "Tell me about it."

"Is this what it's like, everyday?" I ask. I don't like having to crane my neck upwards to keep eye contact. So instead, I stand up and glide towards our friend. And since we're such good friends, it's entirely appropriate to rest my hand on her shoulder opposite mine, obviously.

"Yeah," she sighs.

"Want to get away from it all?" Azula offers a hand, figuratively and literally. Our palm opens inches away from Mai's face as we sit on the armrest of her seat. "Take my hand, Mai."

She doesn't. "You have a whole company. It's everything girls gossip about these days."

"Oh?" We raise a brow at that. "And what do girls say?"

"The usual," Mai replies. Her shoulder feels so tense and her back so rigid. Is she afraid? What does she have to fear of us, if she is so compliant to our will?

I urge Azula forward into unknown territory, and we find ourselves rubbing Mai's back in soothing circles. Azula shivers with uncomfortable tenderness. To have Mai literally in the palm of our hands, Azula resists the urge to smile. At that moment, we feel like we are the source of all the good things that Mai can have, and it's overwhelming.

Mai shivers too. Has her parents, or any of her servants, never tried to just comfort her? Do they not see how the restrictions stifle her?

What is it with this society and depriving daughters of physical contact? It is so… easy to exploit. Killing emotion and demanding absolute obedience often opens so many doors… I move our waist again and lean against Mai, resting my head against hers.

It is a gesture of trust, though Azula doesn't understand that.

She is only beginning to realize how powerful body language is, but she is already learning. We can see the effect we have on our friend. Watching closely at every subtle twitch and every breath, we get a strange, tender feeling in our chest. It's so weird, but not entirely unwelcomed. So we prod again, whispering, "And what is the usual?"

"T-The popular girls want to join, the d-dumb ones don't care, and everyone else says it's just another crazy royal thing," Mai croaks out. It's all too amusing to hear the hitch in her breath and the squeak of her voice before she clears her throat to say the rest of her sentence.

Amusing, but we ought to not play with our friend for too long. 'Mai can be a fun companion to have.'

'… I will admit that she is better at sneaking around than me. Night fighting, as they call it,' Azula relents.

'This is the first time you've admitted that,' I chortle silently.

'It's entirely pointless to be sneaky if I can firebend.' Azula retorts immediately. But sometime along the way, my subtle pushes and influences have opened her up to adding, 'But for our organization, it's imperative to have this skill. Do I need to learn it?'

While it is nice to see her developing and learning so quickly, it is also important to nip this at the bud. 'Not if you can delegate this to others… though some parts of the whole might be necessary for survival. After this, our share of night fighting might grow to more than we want.'

Then Mai takes our hand, snapping us out of our reverie. "When do we leave?"

"After dinner," we nod at Lin.

Our assistant nods and leaves for the other girls, smart enough to have long since put away her notes. She understands our instructions: make sure the girls are armed and ready, but they don't need to standby. We can't force their hand; we don't need to worry of immediate death and this means they can step down into a guard-like role.

Maybe I am a little paranoid, but preparing for any likelihood of betrayal is prudent, isn't it?

Dinner turns out to be a small affair. Mai's mother laments not for the first time that Mai's father did not tell her ahead of time. Mai whispers that her mother would have thrown a ball party for us. Mai's father is a lot more subdued… evidence that his standing in his home is actually lower than expected.

Well, he is outnumbered.

"—and one of the generals, your uncle, I believe, can make his tea warm, just by looking at it," Mai's father says, trying once again to steer the conversation on the table towards any direction but our campaign.

It is interesting though, so I borrow a hand and try to heat up our disgustingly cold tea. Ugh, who drinks cold tea? That's just nasty!

Azula, however, has little need for restraint. "Mai's joining me in our Omashu project."

The entire dinner table stops. Even the servants stop moving.

We can hear the china spoons falling into their bowls with a clink, and even Mai's mother pausing in her incessant complaining. Mai's father pales and yelps immediately like a wounded dog, "That is… Mai, as your father, I cannot allow you into a warzone! You are too young!"

"I already agreed," Mai replies evenly.

Seeing that, Kang Cao slumps in his chair, stares into his soup, and starts muttering this or that. The conversation gets heated again, as Mai's mother finds her wits and they begin bickering like an old couple.

On the other hand, I focus on my tea cup. I can kind of see a bubble or two, or maybe steam. Maybe I'm just imagining things, but Iroh's tea heating does give me an idea. 'Instead of throwing tiny sparks of fires up from my hands, how about forcing the heat into the air to be compressed into the liquid…?'

"Please, Princess," Mai's father pleads. "Please consider a different expedition for your first time? Omashu is too dangerous, and King Bumi is able to crush entire armies on his own! Why not something safer, like crushing pirates?"

"Actually, compared to what we have planned, pirates might be more dangerous," Azula notes.

Kang Cao frowns. "How… so?"

We smile—me because I can see that I'm forcing the littlest bubbles from popping from the corner of my eyes, using a yoga breathing exercise and batting my eyelashes of all things, and Azula because she has Mai's father's complete attention—and we say, "We aren't actually investigating any Fire Nation companies with royal approval. We're looking into… exploiting Omashu's resources. I believe iron is just a minor product compared to the other ores in the region?"

"That is true," Kang Cao nods. "But other industries are not developed. We'd need to bring in new personnel, new equipment… all of which is enough to be considered a national project, and that isn't including the trouble General Fong gives our shipping in the south, and, of course, King Bumi."

"I have a plan for that too, and it's—" Azula begins to say.

'Uh oh, I think we can't really do this except in short bursts.' I interrupt at the speed of thought.

'What?' Azula shoots back with a tone of surprise.

'You feel it too? We've been bending the heat in the water for the last thirty minutes. I don't think I'm supposed to compress it for that long—' I am cut off by the cup exploding into a hundred shards of ceramic, and the scalding tea shooting outwards in a spherical explosion while evaporating at the same time due to the heat not escaping quickly enough.

Azula slaps our other hand from one side to the other, and all the droplets of tea and tea leaves sprinkle safely onto the floor in one puddle. Then she very nearly snorts out a laugh, which she covers expertly by placing a hand over our lips and by giggling like an innocent girl that we definitely aren't.

'Wait, I've been trying to do that all week, how did you do that in an instant?'I blink, shocked and a little disappointed. Oh, no, wait, I bet she learns it all while I'm experimenting...

'It's obvious. Do I have to say it? I'm the superior, once-in-a-thousand-years genius part of us,' Azula gloats.

Once more, all action and sound in the dining room comes to a grinding halt.
​

For what seems like hours, no one speaks or makes a sound. Some (Mai's mother and servants) stare in abject shock and others (Mai) watch on with barely a hint of interest. Then Mai speaks in her utterly dull tone that said everything in life was boring.

"Azula, did you just waterbend?"

 

[midnightmissiles]

It's that time of the day again, guys. I'm not really happy with this one, so tell me what you think, okay?

10.

"… No?" We backpedal with our eyes darting back and forth from Mai's family to the puddle around the shattered china tea cup.

Rather than make a scene of it like her parents are doing, Mai just rolls her eyes. "You're not being very convincing, Azula."

"And you've changed a lot too," Azula grouses before turning back to the puddle.

'How did I do that?' She asks.

'… What do you mean?' Dawning dread fills me. She doesn't know how to do that, does she?

'What do you mean 'what do you mean'? I… I couldn't… I just went through the motions, acted instinctively, and copied what you did. What did we do?' She begins to panic, as little good as it might do us, the expression can help.

'Calm down.' I try to soothe her, even though I'm probably panicking twice as much as she is. I'm just bad at showing how distraught I am. I'm told by my family that I'm dimwitted that way that I don't understand emotions fast enough to react like normal people. 'We have to convince them that we did not waterbend first.'

'Right,' Azula's iron grasp over her emotions clamps down, and like napalm washing over an unsuspecting South Asian jungle, our mind becomes singularly filled with only one thing. Then Azula recomposes us and speaks, "What are you talking about anyway, Mai? I was just reminiscing on your father's tale of Uncle Iroh and I thought to try his trick too. That I can bend water through moving the fire within is just the obvious next step."

"Right," Mai nods as if that explains everything.

Neither of Mai's father nor her mother look convinced, but they will not say anything else in front of us. It is obvious this is going to leak out somehow, in some manner, since there are three servants in this room, and Lin is sitting beside us too. But to be honest, neither Azula nor I care enough about silly, insubstantial rumors to push the matter.

They will nod and agree with whatever we say. That is good enough for Azula and will be good enough for me for now.

'The fire in the water?' I ask with trepidation.

'Isn't that what we did?' The dread that I feel for Azula's sore lack of education is beginning to reflect. She is feeling something similar, and it hurts to have such emotions rebound on me. 'Isn't 'heat' just the fire in all things?'

'Try it again then,' I motion towards the shattered shards of ceramic.

Azula nods and waves an open palm downwards. Nothing happens. 'This isn't right,' she thinks with a frown.

Then again, and again, and again—until we are no longer just waving casually, but throwing our physical strength behind each thrust of our fist. Still nothing happens. Not a single shard moves and the puddle sits still, cooling.

'Heat isn't just fire, but it is in all things,' I whisper to her in hopes of helping.

This does less good than expected, because she rounds upon me, 'Then how did we move it? We can't be… we are a firebender! That is… that is… that is all we have… that is all that pleases Father, all that we have to show Grandfather, all that we are ever genius of! What good are we if we are not a firebender?'

Our shoulders slump and we fall into our seat. At moments like these, I hate how closely resembling Chinese culture and styles that the Fire Nation is; chairs are made entirely of hard wood, straight and rigid. This leaves no room for slacking, thus it hurts to sit upon unless you keep perfectly upright posture.

It is then that I realize that I need more than just words to teach her what my concept of heat is. I need images and I need her to experience it… like Toph experiences vibrations. I need her to see heat like animals do, in thermals and in all the colors of the rainbow given shape, so that she can catch up to my understanding.

Only then can we surpass it. After all, even a modern rendition is only that; it is not truly seeing and feeling the heat, is it? It is simply bringing other spectrums to be visible to humans… it isn't developing an entirely new sense, like Toph will do, is it?

… Shit, humans in this world aren't even really human like me, are they?

Then again, I feel stupid at how I didn't see this earlier. I can endure fires hot enough to melt gold like they are punches, and I don't think I'm superhuman? But where does the line blur between Azula and me?

'Close your eyes,' I murmur at last, after what seems like hours but is probably moments of paradigm shattering epiphanies.

Azula complies without question. She is a good girl like that.

'Don't look for colors. Don't look for light. Heat is in everything. It is the warmth of the teacup, yes, but it is also in water. And cold water is just hot water with less heat, just like it is freezing water with more heat. Everything has it, and they come in different colors of hot and cold, all just shades of heat.' We don't understand. We can't; even Toph has a teacher to show her. We are doing the most stupid thing: we are experimenting on ourselves, in a field unexplored. We are not seeing it, but what insights can I bring Azula? Many engineering and chemical concepts are already being covered in Fire Nation schools, aren't they? 'If there is no heat, create it. Make it swirl, until it is compressed. Shred and break them down, so that each force that resists is met with another. Smash them together and make them collide! Feel and see it everywhere, move it!'

Azula does something indescribable with our hands, outside of my control. Like a master pianist or an expert typist, our fingers blur, each a jab, a swirl, and a form onto itself. 'I… I don't know… if…'

If there is one thing Azula excels at, and one thing that no one else seems to have, is her absolute control of her inner self. We clamp down on emotions easily because they are nothing but a tool, but we still allow room to wiggle, if nothing but to not kill our instinctive reactions entirely. But in this case, we cannot allow any fluctuations. I cannot let us fail. 'Perfect internal control is what we have. We must use our emotion, but we cannot let us feel anything but what we want to feel, exactly when we feel it and how.'

'… Like the theories of bending Cold Fire, but rather than feeling nothing…' Azula opens our eyes in surprise, but she understands enough now, without going the extra step of knowing heat like I do. Yes, internal control is well within the realm of her understanding and well outside of mine. 'I will control, you will guide.'

'Then together…' Our hands blur into motion.

'We master heat!' We thrust our hands out again, but it is an unnecessary gesture. Rather than bending with motions to aide our channeling of Qi, we control our emotions and thus the flow of Qi within and without.

Heat is everywhere, so to bend by martial arts is not enough. In fact, it is impossible to bend pure heat, create it from nothing, using only what is firebending.

But to use our tumultuous, human emotions to guide our Qi in every direction, we no longer have only one point of expression, or even the fourteen points of Chakras, because the Qi flows from every part of our being. That is what heat is, isn't it? It is everywhere, so we must bend from our everywhere.

The pool of tea at our feet shakes as if the earth is shaking and the shards of china clink and clatter as they gather together.

For a brief moment, it is as if we are finally, truly making each drop, shard and speck move in a spiral of our will. But then, as with all things so compressed with the totality of our power, gathered in such a way, they explode.

Well…

I understate and misrepresent what happened and what will happen if I just say that the shattered cup and spilled tea 'exploded'. The tea evaporates until it is vapors and the ceramic shatters until it is dust, but that is not the end of it. They are still hot, and so very visible to our sense of heat. They shine in the room as brightly as Mai, who sits beside us, watching on with cool nonchalance, despite neither Mai nor the objects of our attention are actually shining.

'We can't let it explode this time,' Azula says first. 'This has much more energy in it than the last time we tried it.'

'Then compress it more, burn it, melt it, until there is nothing left. Isn't that the only way?' I ask.

'So be it,' Azula concludes.

The ball of what used to be dust and vapors gathers into the air, a compressed force that is becoming smaller with each moment. And with each second, it grows hotter and brighter, first from a black thing with a slight glow of red, to something entirely orange, and now it is something bright yellow like molten gold and barely larger than a marble.

Its radiance showers the room with light brighter than any fire, though its heat does not even brush against any skin. Nothing reaches us from the bright star in the center of the room. After all, its heat is in absolute control and we let not a single iota break from the whole.

Our outstretched hand clenches into a fist and the light becomes blinding like a fire beyond fire. Blinding, but limited, it shrinks to into nothingness in less than a second. There is a hiss of something, but otherwise, nothing is left.

Looking at the expressions of Mai's family and servants, I take a guess, 'We just dug ourselves deeper, didn't we?'​