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Otabe Yatsuhashi
Author of 8 Stories |
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She walks purposely; sight tunneled unto the red red blob that is her captor, and tells herself that she doesn’t see what could possibly be wrong with this picture. Her hands and feet are neither bound nor restrained. You’re free to do what you please. She scoffs but hides even that to herself. Katara is slowly wishing that he’d never told her that in the first place.
Aang is only slightly worried. Sokka is beside himself with rage. He is yelling out inanities and colorful descriptions of things Aang had never and would never want to hear again in his 112 years of existence.
He is Avatar and cannot shut the almost-there warrior from creating a total mess of their predicament. He sighs and hopes Katara wouldn’t mind waiting a little bit more.
Iroh mutters a little something about how his tile has caught some bad luck and Ji laughs slightly at this. He moves another piece and wonders how long before their game is toppled over.
He prays to Agni that it isn’t before he is able to move that tile by Iroh’s right elbow to finally win this overdrawn game.
Her cell is slightly drafty but the bed is extremely soft and holds traces of her ‘bunkmate’ for the duration of her stay. “Wonder how long it’ll be?” she asks, her face digging deep into the pillow that is both hers and not. It smells faintly of ash, incense, and a cacophony of spices that makes her stomach growl and her heart cave in on itself.
Both are extremely painful but she digs deeper anyway.
At the moment he is sweaty and heaving and is naked from the waist up. He is weaving in and out of fiery limbs that are slowly getting too close for comfort but can’t find enough concentration to make an effort on his part.
He notices that his uncle is looking at him with some form of knowing look crossed with a touch of mischief and that Ji is still hunched over their game.
How long have they been playing that, anyway?
He ducks, rolls over, and finally gets enough peace of mind to finish his own drawn out game. His strikes are precise and—in Iroh’s opinion—flaring out at the seams with bottled up anxiety, but he rises as the winner nonetheless.
Zuko doesn’t bother to look as two red-clad soldiers pick their fallen comrade off the scorched floor. He is only minutely worried that perhaps he had overdone himself again. It is getting harder and harder to find willing sparring partners on this ship these days.
He sighs and runs the towel over his face and arms. He plunges into the dark bowels of his ship and steels himself for the real battle that is waiting in his room.
She knows who it is in any case. The warmth pulsating through the room is enough of a calling card. She cannot help but smile into the pillow; He’s earlier this time.
He is just a tad joking but Katara gets the hint and lets out a muffled laugh. She squeezes the fluffy mass of white for all it’s worth and pushes herself up into a sitting position.
She smiles up at him to say hello. He nods and a tiny flicker of a smile curves his lips before they are once again set into the firm line she thoroughly enjoys disturbing. The pillow is still in her arms. They are touching at the shoulders, hips mere centimeters apart.
It doesn’t bother her that she is wishing that those centimeters would quickly disappear.
It’s not that he isn’t worried about Katara’s well being. The only reason he would stave off goofing—learning—earthbending with Bumi is if Katara (and grudgingly Sokka) were to be caught or worse. The only reason he isn’t flying off the handle like Sokka is at the moment is that he knows ‘he’ wouldn’t harm her. They’d been through this quite a bit and Zuko has yet to prove himself as ruthless and barbaric as Zhao. Although he doesn’t seem to mind kicking Sokka’s butt or mine. Maybe he’s got chivalry issues.
So he keeps his more colorful ideas of what Katara could be suffering through right now at the back of his mind and tells Sokka to calm down “before I tell Appa to throw you off into the sea!”
Sokka huffs and sits down with a glare. He is more put off that a 12 yr old could boss him around than the fact that his sister is still in the hands of the enemy.
She isn’t too sure if she wants him to put a shirt on or not—and that’s what’s got her more worried than the fact that he’s sitting comfortably beside her.
“When you stop running away from me.”
His voice is a deep baritone when he isn’t shouting orders out at people or flinging derogatory phrases at Sokka. When he is calm and they are alone, his voice is soft and commanding, powerful in itself.
Katara is failing miserably at hiding her blush.
He shifts and she feels his arm around her shoulder, pulling her towards himself. Katara doesn’t bother fighting; doesn’t bother berating herself at how wrong this is, and rests her head at the crook of his neck like she belongs there.
She gives out a satisfied sigh and he brings his other arm up to hug her.
Zuko is great at cuddling; she thinks and snuggles deeper into his embrace, inhaling everything that is distinctly Zuko. How she wishes time could stop at this very moment.
Zuko is thinking something close to that.
General Ji sighs as the board falls off the table before he could finish off the game. Iroh grins and is quite relieved at the turn of events. At least Ji has not beaten him yet.
It is funny that no one seems to bother fighting off the two newcomers. The water tribe boy is grumpily stalking after the Avatar, who, as he passes the slightly disgruntled Ji and the grinning Iroh, waves a hand in greeting.
Iroh laughs and waves back, dusting himself along the way to make sure he doesn’t look too shaken up by the bison’s entrance. Ji huffs in an irritated manner as he picks up the tiles from the floor and rights the table to set up the board again. One of these days; he thinks; he will have to tell the Avatar to leave that flying monstrosity on land and away from his already battered ship.
“Ah, I think a cup of tea shall do us some good. What do you say, General Ji?”
Ji puts the final piece in place and hands Iroh his favorite lotus tile. He looks over to where—What’s that thing called again? Ah—Appa is being given a good rub by some of the more animal-friendly soldiers. His fingers twitch slightly, wondering what everyone else would say if he gave that a try (he had always had a soft spot for furry animals) but thinks better of it. He nods to Iroh and stalks off into the kitchen to fetch the kettle and cups.
“I like Ginseng!”
“I know!”
Iroh laughs and moves towards the large furry heap that is Appa. He is greeted by an affectionate snort, which flutters his robes and hair, and gives the beast a good rub on its black nose. “Ah, I was wondering when you’d be coming back. I had missed our little conversations.”
Appa groans in something akin to affirmation and the rest of the doting soldiers think it best to move away from the strange couple. The dragon of the west has done it again.
“Stop shouting Sokka,” Aang berates a little too snappily and Sokka glares contemptuously in response. The boy sighs and turns a corner. He finds Katara standing there with Zuko by her side.
Aang looks at all this with a mixture of awe, surprise, and entertainment. Although the way Zuko brushes his hand over Katara’s a little too frequently settles badly on Aang’s insides, he doesn’t find anything else too bad about the situation.
Sokka, though, has other thoughts about that and promptly voices it out. Both Aang and Zuko flinch as Katara punches her brother on the face and drags him up the stairs by the hood of his parka.
They are one in agreeing that they should never piss the waterbender off.
She huffs and throws Sokka against one of Appa’s legs. He slides past Iroh who is hardly deterred from his conversation with the non-speaking beast by the boy’s sudden arrival. He turns around and waves at Katara, who in turn slides her temper back down and puts up a gracious smile for the old man.
Iroh chuckles and throws his lotus tile at the girl. “I shall be missing that piece again. What a shame. I do hope you give it back soon!”
Katara blushes and mumbles something about how embarrassing this whole situation is. Iroh is once again back to his one-sided conversation while Sokka is trying his best to keep grumpy and sullen despite the comical sight before him. It isn’t long before he is rolling around in laughter while Appa is snorting out hot breath as if to tell him to shut up.
Ji hands Katara a cup of tea and the two wait in amicable silence for the rest of the party to arrive.
Around them, the rest of the vessel’s occupants take bets on who will win the fight. Katara’s name is in the majority.
The airbender is quick to dodge, flinging himself to the side while sending a blast of wind to the prince’s open area. It doesn’t surprise him that Zuko dissipates his wind with ease and moves into another fighting stance within a few seconds. Really, if they hadn’t been on opposite sides, he would be praising the boy for how good he’s gotten at firebending.
The thought floats off as another blast of fire threatens to burn his bald head to a crisp. He’s slightly glad for once that he is shorter than the prince or that attack would have collided head on, and he would most probably be missing his upper area.
That isn’t such a lovely sight; he thinks and flies off on his air scooter to get behind his opponent.
“You’re patience seems to have grown greatly, Miss Katara,” Ji says, already on his fifth cup of tea.
Iroh had joined them not too long after the tussle started and is sipping merrily on his cup beside Katara. He chuckles at Ji’s words and implied meaning.
Katara blushes yet again. She tries to tell them that it really isn’t her part to stop the two boys from doing what they wanted but Iroh is giving her that knowing grin that somehow makes her want to punch him and hug him all at the same time. She sighs in defeat, already feeling the last of her patience snapping.
She stands up and the rest of the crew perks up from their languid attention.
Aang is tired, dirty, frayed, scorched, and is secretly having the time of his life. Never mind that he is a hair’s width from being fried by the over-eager prince. This beats riding on a seal any day.
He brings his staff up and cuts down the prince’s flame into two. He is about to send an extremely large air ball into Zuko when he feels a shadow looming over him like some horrible omen.
He looks up and gulps. From the way Zuko has not yet killed him, he can tell that the prince is just about as terrified as he is at the moment.
“Drop it, the both of you, before I bring this wave down and wash you off of this boat!”
Katara’s arms are raised above her head, and above that, a 50-foot wall of water is standing precariously close to the boat. Aang isn’t stupid enough to think Katara is merely bluffing—especially with the way the sides of her eyebrows are twitching in annoyance—so he lets his staff fall dully unto the floor. He notes that Zuko has dropped his stance and is quite—entranced?—by Katara’s heaving form.
Somewhere behind, he can hear Sokka’s screams of panic lost under the loud gushing of Katara’s water.
Oooh-boy!
He smirks—grins—smiles—as he steps into her private space with barely a few inches between their heaving bodies.
Then he passes her, leaving ghost trails of his fingers on her waist and his warm breath on her cheek.
She feels like she’s floating and sinking all at the same time. Stupid, fire prince, prick, hot, damn, uhg!
Aang is looking dumbstruck and Sokka feels like he’s about to throw up.
“Did you—see?” Sokka asks his bald companion.
Aang nods and swallows the lump he’s been choking on for the past few seconds. He feels like’s he’s swallowed Momo and the lemur is still fighting its way out of his stomach.
Her fingers are clutched around Iroh’s lotus tile.
Aang ang Sokka are a bit disconcerted at what had, and is still happening with their only female companion.
“She looks like she wants to swallow that pillow,” Aang notes with a feeling of uncertainty. Why would anyone want to swallow a pillow? Is she that hungry?
Sokka glares at the damnable thing and huffs out his disapproval.
Iroh chuckles and Ji hold his head in his hand as he shakes off his exasperation. And he hadn’t been able to scratch that flying bison too. Damn!
“Set a course for Omashu, General,” Zuko says, his back facing his companions. “It seems uncle has lost his tile once again.”
He doesn’t deign tell them about his pillow though.
Ji groans and heads off to tell the crew of their new mission. He doesn’t ponder on why they seem to be more agreeable than usual.
It bothers her though how the two would react once they finally catch up with what is really going on. On the one hand, she wonders at how they could have been so dimwitted as to not have noticed before, and on the other, she slightly dreads the day that Aang and Sokka would eventually get the routine.
It is a routine after all.
Zuko had said he would not stop until they stopped running.
She would, until he catches her, or until she finds it too hard to run away from him again.
She sighs and wishes they had never met in the first place.
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