Halcyon.

Life had not changed much on the outside.

School was still punctually attended, rules still strictly enforced, and hide-and-explode still a favorite of the children. She, however, was no longer a part of the life that had so little changed. She was no longer a twelve-year-old girl with sheltered eyes–not since Kuzon vanished. Years had rolled by like dust, smoky and quick. They had flown by as fast as Kuzon had come and gone, before she could even blink. And, while life had not changed, in some ways she had. In some ways she was stronger, more cheerful, and more sincere, more captivated by things she had been taught to ignore–expression, color, seasons, and beauty, among others. On Ji had changed, and she had not. She had made subtle, honest alterations within herself, changes Kuzon has prompted.

The Fire Nation had not changed as much as she had expected it to. After a startling loss of the war by the hands of the Avatar, the Fire Nation was humiliated. For years, nearly one hundred, the nation had boasted their inevitable victory throughout the land–they backed their claims with siege and conquer. In truth, On Ji was almost relieved that her home nation lost the Great War. No longer was she obligated to surrender her life to Fire Lord Ozai, or to enlist in the Fire military. She had enough wit to not repeat it to another soul, but the war frightened her.

She was not sure why she thought the nation would change so greatly–perhaps she had wanted it to? Although it was evident that her people were freer, and less inclined to be altruistic to the Fire Lord, she was not sure what else in the nation had changed. The war had seen an end a few years earlier; the following month marked Fire Lord Zuko’s fifth year as the Fire Lord, after he and the avatar overthrew the previous Fire Lord. On Ji would not miss the stoic and cruel Fire Lord Ozai. He had always stared at her unflappably from behind the history instructor in grade school–his look alone froze her into submission. Zuko, his exiled son, marked a time of changed, and his look was softer, kinder. The new Fire Lord poured his heart and time into restoring the Fire Nation to its former glory, before Sozen had unhinged the balance of the world.

It struck On Ji suddenly, drawing on about Fire Lord Zuko. As unchanged as things in her homeland seemed on the outside, that was just how greatly they had changed within. Her people were liberated, something the other nations might never grasp–the citizens of the Fire Nation were under Ozai’s oppression, too. Where Ozai demanded complete allegiance and servitude of his people, or else, Zuko requested loyalty free of subservience. They were finally free and autonomous.

On Ji had secretly been envious when Kuzon told her about his life in the colonies. There, they danced, laughed, and expressed. No one openly admitted their jealousy, but On Ji knew that even her teachers grew green-eyed by his stories, his expression, and by his life–he was a normal kid, in the clearest sense. And, even though others resented his lifestyle, he happily shared it with everyone willing through the dances he loved so much–On Ji always remembered.

And now, seventeen, she wondered what had become of Kuzon. She had promptly left Hide, finding the courage she had lacked. He had not been happy, of course, but he did not own her, and she let him know it. She saw him often, though, due to the pestering of mothers. Seventeen was the prime age, in the Fire Nation, for young couples to become engaged. On Ji’s mother and father pressed her diligently about letting Hide court her. He would be, upon graduation of The Fire Academy, given a prime spot as a major in the Fire Military. The more they pushed, the more she declined–maybe she was still waiting for Kuzon? Her parents did not take kindly to her day dreaming, though. She was even encouraged to pursue the Fire Lord, he being only four years her senior. He was handsome enough, surely, as well as powerful and polite–On Ji knew better though. She was very vigilant of her surroundings.

Amidst all the swarming suitors for the young Fire Lord, On Ji saw the slot they hoped for, batting their painted eyelashes and such like swooning Fire Lily’s, had already been filled. Others must have noticed, too. Surely she was not the only one to realize that The Fire Lord’s advisor from the Water Tribes, a lady bender who looked awfully familiar to On Ji, was always standing a little closer to him than everyone else, was always daring enough to speak out of terms, putting him in check–not even the Avatar did that. And when the Fire Lord did nothing but cringe, grin, and correct whatever she had directed, it must have been more than simple obedience to an advisor. Zuko’s most trusted adviser, General Iroh, always chuckled at their antics, so he must have known too–known what mothers of the Fire Nation may have noticed, but chose to ignore.

No mother wanted Zuko marrying a Water peasant.

And, the poor Avatar–living in the Fire Nation made him subject to lady callers, too. In his own rights, he was just as powerful as Zuko, moreso, and mothers had a keen eye for that too, On Ji’s mother included. Something about the Avatar, though, the one who had eluded Princess Azula for so long, former enemy of the Fire Nation, struck On Ji as familiar. His face danced at the tip of her tongue, but she could never quite grasp the connection.

And, while most girls her age were preparing for dates and matchmaking appointments, she found herself at the mouth of an archaic and forgotten cave–the place she had been liberated before the end of the war, by the simple act of dancing. She had found herself here on previous occasions, several in fact. It was a place that calmed her, a place that helped her remember Kuzon just a little better–remember what he had taught her.

As she skipped into the middle of the cavern, the convenient earth chairs, tables, and platform (where the Flameos played) still intact, she felt like she was a twelve year old girl again, learning to live. That was the extent, on the surface, of what Kuzon had done for her, for all of them–taught them to live. More than hoping she would meet him again someday, On Ji wished she would have the chance to thank him properly, something she knew they all secretly pined for. Despite that, On Ji bent her arms against her ribs, her lines clean, and squatted. With a long breath, she outstretched her bent knees, pirouetting on one foot, keeping the other flat, and leaped into a dance Kuzon had taught them: The Phoenix Flight. She had spent years trying to master the Chamelephant Strut, but she could never quite remember Kuzon’s exact movements.

She always tried, though.

Closing her hands and digits into a linear angle, On Ji jumped high, striking each hand left and right. When she thought to herself she was getting it a little better, her left foot touched the soil in an odd position, causing her to lose balance. On Ji watched the top of the alcove, her body resting against the dusty earth of the cave. She was so sure she had, had it, the Chamelephant Strut, only for her legs to give way like glass–she was still too fragile for the beautiful dance after all. With a deep breath, the Fire Nation girl closed her eyes. “I’ll never get it right,” On Ji huffed.

“Don’t worry; you just messed up a bit with your stance.” A voice mentioned cheerfully from the entrance of the cavern.

On Ji gasped up from her place, clods merging with her garb. Jumping to her feet, On Ji blinked repeatedly, ready to speak, but was interrupted.

“Instead of keeping your left foot stiff and sideways, keep on your toes, and make your foot straight.” On Ji stood in silence, awed by the vision before her: The Avatar, wrapped in orange and yellow monk clothing, set his stick against the earth to demonstrate his advice. She recognized him from the posters in her town, and from seeing him, only once, on a school trip to the Fire Lord’s annual War Memorial Speech. The Avatar, Aang, had said a few words himself, but shied away from the attention. She never imagined beholding him some closely.

After he showed her the correct movements, On Ji stood there with no response. The Avatar frowned. “Why aren’t you trying?” He asked.

“Uh,” On Ji watched him unsurely, but did as he beckoned, “Sure.”

After trying it again, On Ji squeaked. “I did it!” And, she had. Delighted by her results, after years of practice, she jumped in circles around her landing spot, enthused.

“You did!” The Avatar echoed.

On Ji suddenly paused. “Avatar, uh, sir, what are you–?” She was unable to find the proper words. She was once again struck with the notion she had met him before…

“Oh!” The cheery Avatar grinned, “I was in the area with Sokka, so I thought it would be fun to see it again. He wouldn’t come with me, though–he found sword shop in the market, or something. So, I came by to see it this cave by myself.”

As to instruct, On Ji pointed her index finger towards him. “Dance,” On Ji began, only for Aang to finish.

“Is an expression of one's self that no one can ever take away from you.” He was rather pleased with his wisdom, his natural philosophical genius, being the Avatar and all.

Only then did she ask, before her mind even thought to think of it. “Kuzon?”

With a snort, Kuzon picked up the Phoenix Flight, leaving her answer in the air.

© Disclaimer: I own nothing from Avatarverse,
All characters, places, and quotes remain the intellectual and
creative property of whoeverthey belong to, which, if you
did not catch, is not me.

Fail! Epic, EPIC, FAIL! I thought this was going places, good places, but this is what it has become. The ending fails, big time. Bleck! Bits of Zutara, if you caught it. And, this is for Suki because she gave me the prompt and was awesome about it. I'm sorry ... Well, there need to be more Aanji fics, I say! Lord, I fail.

REVIEW, PLS?

¤ composed by lunamaria.