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Fool's World: Clashing Tides
🕑 Added 2022-06-11 14:57:57 +0000 UTCFirebenders, I quickly found, were very easy to read. Zuko, the scarred prince, channeled his bending from a deep well of resentment, anger, and frustration. It welled up from deep in his gut that he channeled up his chest, down his arm, then through his fist as a torrent of flames leapt from his clenched fist that he threw in my direction. I was an obstacle in his way that was between him and his goal, Aang. Not really sure what the story was there, but it wasn’t like I exactly cared either.
Long before the flames reached me, I was moving. The sand made for awkward footing as I darted to the side, the flames washing over where I stood with such intense heat that the sand steamed and almost turned to glass from the ambient heat. Zuko snarled at me when he saw that he had missed while I pivoted to dart directly towards him. The other benders were flanking out in a half-circle, but they were leaving this to Zuko, it would seem. Looks like he had a history of getting uppity when someone got involved in his fights.
Zuko dipped down, lashing out with a leg that sent a wall of fire over the sand, forcing me to leap into the air, where he then punched out with his fist to send a shot of fire directly where I would be forced to jump. He wasn’t a bad fighter, I quickly noted, arching my body to easily dodge the shot of fire even as I felt its intense heat race by me. It was just a little difficult for him to impress me when he was telling me his next move before he made it.
Hurling my baseball bat, I caught one of the other dozen benders off guard when the tip of my bat slammed into his nose with a loud crunch, snapping his head back. Landing lightly on my feet, I saw Zuko glare hatefully at me, throwing a handful of sharp and furious jabs at me while I projected another baseball bat to my hands, weaving through the fire with deft ease. The hardest part of it was the fact that fire tended to have huge areas of effect. The heat was hottest around the center, it seemed, but even the flickering edges of the flame could cause skin damage.
Digging my foot into the sand, I shot forward, closing the distance between me and Zuko the exact moment he began to kick out at me. My foot caught the bottom of his, forcing him to launch a torrent of fire into the air, completely harmlessly, before I pivoted sharply, sweeping his leg out from underneath him, and completing the pivot, with the same leg that I used to kick his leg with, I planted it into his gut. Zuko grunted when he landed heavily in the sand, his armor taking the absolute worst of it.
I shouldered my baseball bat, completely aware of the other eleven firebenders had completed the encirclement. I was completely surrounded and based on their poses, they weren’t willing to stay out of the fight any longer. I could feel them channeling their rage and their ill intent whispered their actions into my ears. All except one -- the old man who watched me carefully, his breathing deep and even. He, I found, was much harder to read.
“Well?” I questioned, throwing a cocky smirk on my face as I activated Reinforcment across my body. Winning wasn’t enough. I needed to absolutely dominate the fight. The Kyoshi Warriors that were watching needed to see me crush the firebenders if there was ever going to be any chance of them joining me in this war.
Scrappy resistance was fine, but if people were going to buy into the cause, they needed to see that victory was possible. That taking the fight to the Fire Nation wasn’t just feasible, it was inevitable.
The old man was the first to move, thrusting his fist out in a short jab, prompting the other dozen to make their own moves. They seemed to have some kind of strategy when it came to dealing with completely surrounding someone to avoid having any friendly fire. In response, even as the fire surged towards me, I threw myself back towards the firebender that was directly behind me, angling myself so my back would hit the ground, causing the blasts of fire to clash into one another.
Rolling to my feet, I projected two baseball bats that I sent into the blast of fire that came at my sides. The strategy was rhythmic, intent on overwhelming me from all sides, but not at the cost of becoming an absolute clusterfuck. The baseball bats shot forward, punching through the center of the blasts of fire, forcing them to disperse rather than remain concentrated, and the baseball bats traveled upstream until they slammed into the attacking benders, knocking them out of the encirclement.
In that moment, two more lashed out with low kicks, forcing me to leap into the air. Ten attacks were launched up at me as one, Zuko rejoining the fight. I didn’t fail to notice how the old man’s firebending was like comparing a blowtorch to a bunch of lighters, but it mattered little. Unable to dodge, I projected four baseball bats at my sides and had them spin rapidly, The flames slammed into them, and while my clothing did get singed, the air force displaced the intensity of the fire.
With the force behind them gone, I stopped spinning the bats around me and shot them down while I was obscured by fire. Dropping another four benders with well-placed shots to the face, snapping their heads back. Their helmets are probably what saved their lives, and three of them were knocked out cold. Touching down on the sand, I heard Zuko snarl at me before he rushed forward, the strategy either changing or he was too furious to think rationally.
“Get out of my way,” Zuko snarled, thrusting his hand out, only to find its aim thrown off when a projected baseball bat slammed into the back of his fist, guiding his aim well away from me.
“You’re in mine,” I countered, catching him in the side of the knee before choking up to the fat of the bat and delivering a short thrust to the bottom of his chin. The blows must have hurt, but Zuko just snarled, driven by anger so completely that he completely ignored the pain in favor of lashing out at me. He threw a hook at the side of my head and even before it made contact, I felt the heat gathering at the front of his fist.
Instead of letting him complete the action, I headbutted his hand, feeling the skin on my forehead burn but the pain was hardly noteworthy. Stepping forward, putting one leg between his, I used the short bat to bash him in the side of the head and used my leg to trip him over. As soon as the Zuko went down, the other benders rushed towards me.
They weren’t willing to put their prince in danger, it would seem. Four of them rushed towards me, throwing punches and kicks coated in fire, only to find their strikes easily dodged or blocked by my bats. One leapt into the air, intent on delivering a fire coated high kick, only to have my bat guide his leg to the side and the blow make contact with another firebender’s face. At the same moment, one went lower, intent on delivering a liver shot and found himself countered just as I blocked a low kick with my foot, catching a third at the ankle.
The others that didn’t rush me took pot shots that only accomplished hitting their own men. At this close, I could all too easily hear the influence I had on them. I knew exactly where they would attack, where they were, and how to dismantle them. The fact that I was making it look so easy was working against the firebenders as well -- their anger and frustration at their own impotence made their intentions clearer, and better, it made them sloppy.
By the time I resumed the offensive, I had already picked them apart and all that was left was the finishing blows. A swing at one’s temple, a knee shot followed by a gut shot, that was then followed by a head shot, and more. Their metal armor protected them from the worst of the impacts, but bones still snapped under my enhanced strength and before long, I found myself surrounded by a half dozen firebenders.
“What an unusual ability you possess,” the old man noted, the few remaining firebenders dragging away Zuko, who still wanted to fight despite already blacking out once. His hands were unclenched unlike all the others, and he took a low stance. “You are shockingly gentle compared to your fierce aura. Might I learn your name?”
My eyes narrowed at the old man. I knocked out his prince and dismantled his squad, but I wasn’t really feeling any hostility from him. He was still planning to attack -- a quick jab to force me to back off -- but the intention to do harm wasn’t intermingled with hostility like it had been with Zuko and his crew. “Majima,” I answered, cocking my head as I paid far more attention to the old man than anyone else.
“I am Iroh. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Iroh stated and it didn’t seem like he was mocking me, but I couldn’t tell if he wasn’t either. “While it is most regrettable that hostilities have already begun, I believe that this fight can end here. With your permission, I will remove Prince Zuko from the island and we shall continue on our way.” He said, watching me just as carefully as I was him. He eyed me like a coiled snake that was about to lunge the moment I thought I could land a blow.
He mentioned something about an aura. “Old man,” I said, making his eyes narrow ever so slightly. “You can see it, can’t you?” I didn’t need to say more. Just with that, he instantly understood what I meant.
“You have a rather sinister air about you. I suspect that you are a great deal older than your features portray,” Iroh answered, not commenting about what he saw when he looked at me. Still, I caught his gaze straying from mine as if he were looking at something. Something around me or, rather, something that came from me. I was actually pretty curious about what exactly he was seeing -- what would my curse look like to the naked eye? “Are you, perhaps, a spirit guarding this land?”
Heh. “If you can see what I am, then you would know that I’m not exactly the guard dog type,” I told him, making his lips thin ever so slightly. “Call me the consequences of the Fire Nation’s actions if you will. So, no, even if you don’t want to fight me, I have reason enough to fight you. After all, a prince is always a useful hostage.”
Ah, there was the hostility. Iroh’s eyes hardened when he heard that, the protective instincts he had making themselves known. I continued, shouldering my bat. “You seem a bit old to be his father. Grandfather?”
“Hmmm,” Iroh hummed, giving me a calculating look. “You seem quite ignorant of the Fire Nation to claim to be our retribution. I am Prince Zuko’s uncle. And you, I suspect, are not at all what you seem. Still, it is regrettable that we could not make peace.” He said, lowering his head for a moment and just as I sprung forward to close the distance between us, he lashed out with a handful of quick blasts before he sent an arch of fire that rose from the ground directly at me.
It was hot. Hot enough that my yukata caught fire, prompting me to unsheath my arms from the sleeves as I sent baseball bats through the arch of fire that surged forward. Iroh dodged them to the side and didn’t seem at all surprised when I was closing in on him, knowing exactly where he was going to go. Pressing the attack, I found Iroh moving onto the defensive and choosing to guide my bats away from him as I took rapid swings, Fire coated his hands, leaving traces of it behind as they moved, deflecting my bat away from their intended targets.
I hadn’t realized it, but a pure defensive form was a pretty big weakness of mine. Defending yourself from harm wasn’t an evil desire, after all. Slowly, I ramped up my offensive, delivering a flurry of attacks that came from all angles, intent on overwhelming Iroh’s defensive posture, but once he planted his feet onto the ground, I found that he was surprisingly difficult to move. I could feel his desire to attack, to…
Ah.
“Suki!” I shouted, letting up my offensive and shouldering my bats. “Clear off the beach. I want to fight him without him worrying about collateral,” I continued, seeing Iroh’s eyes widen a fraction at that. There was a long pause before Suki, among other Kyoshi warriors, began to trickle forward to capture the subdued firebenders.
Iroh clasped his hands together and offered me a small bow, “You have my sincerest thanks for your consideration, young man. I believe that I have misjudged you most grievously,” he voiced, eyeing me with a much kinder light. He even sounded like he meant the apology.
“You haven’t,” I told him bluntly, waiting for the beach to be cleared. “It’s just not any fun for me if you’re holding back for the sake of some idiots that I already beat.”
“I wonder. The Kyoshi Warriors are as ferocious as the Avatar that they are named for -- they are not the type who would obey anyone if they did not believe that they were worth following,” Iroh stated, sounding like he was scolding me. “You do yourself a great disservice! Perhaps we can speak over a lovely cup of jasmine tea after the fight?” He requested, breathing deeply as he settled into a power stance.
I gave him a cocky smirk, “After I defeat you or after you defeat me?”
“I suppose we will simply have to find out, won’t we?” He questioned and that seemed to be the cure for the battle to resume because he sent a monstrously large jet of fire in my direction. Projecting a bat in front of me, I commanded it to spin rapidly, diffusing the fire and quickly found myself surrounded by it. Even before the fire cleared, I knew Iroh was launching another attack, so I projected another bat and sent it flying at him through the flames, forcing him to dodge. The flames that surrounded me faded enough that I could leap through them to see that Iroh was throwing an uppercut.
The volume of the fire that he produced was completely different than the others. If Iroh was a flamethrower than everyone else had been a sparkler at best. The blasts were huge and, more than that, they were hot. Sweat dripped from my body from the heat that lingered in the air, my bats unable to diffuse that much ambient heat. While I was avoiding getting burned, getting cooked looked more likely by the second.
I sent a dozen bats at Iroh in a rapid fire, each one striking the sand around him as he weaved between them and sending up a huge plume of sand. Iroh’s expression never wavered, remaining calm and reading me as much as I was reading him. When he felt comfortable, he sent a quick jab of fire at me in retaliation before throwing his leg up high and delivering an axe kick to the ground that projected a hammer of fire down on me as I dodged.
He was puzzling me out. That was… honestly kinda incredible. He understood that I seemed to know what his next move would be rather quickly, and now he was working out the mechanics of how I knew to use it against me. Throwing myself back into a back handspring, I projected another handful of bats at him and they had as much luck as the others did. They slammed into the ground, sending up another plume of sand and dust. Exactly as I intended.
Iroh seemed to feel the trap that was closing in on him because he reacted quickly. Instead of escaping the dust, I saw light emerge from within it that quickly exploded outward. He launched a wall of fire that raced towards me at high speeds, stretching a good two dozen feet in every direction to prevent me from even thinking about escaping. So, I didn’t.
Instead, I projected twenty bats directly in front of me in the form of a cone and had them spin at high speeds while I charged through the thick of the torrent of fire with a powerful leap. The spinning bats protected me from the flames but the heat was insane. My head started to feel light, and my body was rapidly overheating. Even my sweat started to steam around me, evaporating as quickly as it formed.
It only lasted a second, but it felt like an eternity before I emerged from the other side, and only then did I see a flicker of surprise on Iroh’s face. Having my bats fan out, I caught Iroh’s hands in two X’s to keep them in place, preventing him from dodging even if he wanted to. Rearing a leg back, I delivered a powerful high kick to the side of his head, sending him to the ground with a grunt. He wasn’t knocked unconscious, even if he did land heavily. I expected him to recover instantly and made to attack him while he was on the ground, only to find him raising his hands in a gesture of surrender.
“I believe we have found our victor,” he said in a tone that told me that he easily had another dozen rounds in him.
This didn’t settle well with me. But, a surrender was a surrender.
“It seems like we have.”
…
“I can’t believe you just gave up, uncle!” Zuko raged, struggling against the finger locks that the enemy warriors had him bound in. The Kyoshi Warriors. Zuko knew of them -- an insurgency of some note on Kyoshi Island, but one that never ventured beyond the island itself. They were deemed insignificant enough that the resources needed to crush them would be better spent elsewhere. “They stole our ship! How are we supposed to chase the Avatar now?!” He hissed, unable to slip the locks. The Kyoshi Warriors had experience disabling Firebenders, it seemed.
“I suppose we’ll have to swim, hahaha!” Uncle Iroh said with a jovial laugh that didn’t at all match their situation. Zuko sneered before he looked around at the brig -- the same brig that he intended to put the Avatar once he was captured -- in search of anything that could help them escape. It seemed that he had been too thorough to stop the Avatar escaping because he found nothing. The room was completely bare; with metallic walls and floor that were smooth except for the gaps where a chain could be fed through to keep the prisoners in place. Far removed from earth, water, and airbending, complete with a stopgap airlock door. Firebending was sealed away with finger locks and cuffs.
Unless he was willing to melt the cuffs with his breath, which would mean dealing with molten metal dripping on his hands, he was stuck in his own brig.
“It seems like we have already departed,” Uncle Iroh remarked, so frustratingly not bothered by their sound defeat. Who had that man been? Why was he there? Questions swirled in Zuko’s mind but answers proved elusive. “How unfortunate it is that we stocked up on coal for a long voyage. If we hadn’t, then we could predict our refuel location. Hm… I hope they bring lunch soon…”
Zuko swallowed a sigh and settled on banging the back of his head against the wall. The frustration he felt was overwhelming. Maddening. He had been so close. The Avatar was in his grasp once again and this time he understood what he was capable of. There shouldn’t have been any tricks or surprises that would let him elude him a second time. Instead, there had been a wall that stopped them cold and the Avatar -- his chance to return home with his honor intact -- had slipped through his fingers once again.
“Do not fret, Prince Zuko,” Uncle Iroh told him, his gaze turning to the door. “Think of this as a learning experience rather than a defeat.”
Zuko wanted to grind his teeth into nubs, “And what, Uncle Iroh, did we learn?” He bit out, his Uncle’s attitude not at all helping his frustration.
“That the Fire Nation has an enemy beyond the Avatar,” Uncle Iroh answered, his tone unusually serious. “That young man’s shadow is long and deep. I cannot say exactly what he is, but he is not of this world, Zuko. I believe him to be a spirit of some kind…and I do not believe that he is a benevolent one.” He continued, making Zuko narrow his eyes.
Had his uncle let them be captured to stay close to the one that defeated them?
For such a stupid…!
“Or he’s a psychopath that carved all of that into his skin to make his enemies afraid!” Zuko snapped, wanting to lash out. His uncle saw ‘spirits’ and let them get captured? Committed them to that fight when they should have just left the island to pursue their actual target? What was he thinking?
“I wonder…” Uncle Iroh remarked, falling silent before the first bulkhead door opened. It was a few seconds later before the second did, revealing a girl with black hair done up in twintails, pinning them with a sharp look with her bright blue eyes.
“Comfortable?” She asked them with a cheeky smile that only grew when Zuko glared hatefully at her.
“I cannot complain, young lady. Though, might I ask about the safety of our crew?” Uncle Iroh questioned, earning a sideways glance from the girl.
“They’re fine. We’re keeping you separated, but they haven’t been harmed beyond the injuries Majima gave them beforehand,” She started, going to undo their position of being pinned to the floor. “He wants you on the top deck to answer a few questions -- and, a word of warning? I’d recommend honesty.”
Uncle Iroh, infuriatingly, gave their captor a smile, “Honesty is the best policy is something I’ve always said,” he said with a light laugh. If Zuko rolled his eyes any harder then they’d have rolled right out his head. “Majima.. I do not suppose you could answer a question about him for me in exchange? What is he?” He questioned why they were allowed to stand and Zuko despised the weakness in his legs and how each step made his joints ache ever so slightly.
“He’s the Source of All Evil, allegedly. So, answer the questions he asks, and you won’t discover exactly what that means,” the girl answered and that left Zuko with more questions. Uncle Iroh, however, simply looked pensive for a moment.
“I see, I see,” he muttered as they were led through the halls -- the halls of his ship -- and were brought up to the top deck. Zuko breathed in deeply, glad to smell something other than his uncle's body odor for the first time in what felt like days. His gaze swept over the bow of the ship, not at all surprised to see that there was no sign of landmass to be found. They were out at sea. Assuming that they took off the same day that they had been captured, Zuko had a rough radius of their possible location around Kyoshi Island.
A quick glance up revealed that the sun was directly overhead, preventing him from judging which direction they were going. That, Zuko suspected, was completely intentional. As was letting him see the Kyoshi Warriors that stood on the bow, making it clear that his ship had been commandeered by rebels. Zuko sneered and one of the Kyoshi Warriors sneered right back at him while they were led to the command room on the ship. The door swung open, revealing a girl with ginger colored hair standing next to his enemy.
Zuko saw the scars on his body went well beyond his face. The top half of his haori was left down, revealing most of his torso with his stomach covered by a white belly warmer. The scars were engraved into his chest, his neck, shoulders and down his arms. It seemed that there was no spot left untouched. They were even between his fingers. Zuko’s lips thinned when their eyes met -- there was a malicious hate in Majima’s eyes. Whatever had been done to him to drive him into this level of insanity had been severe and it was clear that he held the Fire Nation responsible.
“Prince Zuko, Iroh,” Majima began, sliding one of Zuko’s maps over the table that separated them. “You’re the last pair that I’ll be speaking to today. The rest of the crew have given me answers, so keep that in mind before you answer. Wouldn’t want them to fall too out of line with the consensus, right?” A clever tactic, Zuko could admit. One that was supremely frustrating because he knew his men.
They were with him in his exile not out of loyalty, but because they were troublemakers. They were the scum at the bottom of the barrel. The firebenders and the soldiers that the Fire Nation could spare while they were at war.
“And what, may I ask, do you intend to do with this information?” Uncle Iroh questioned, giving Majima a far more calculating look.
Majima’s lips split into a savage smile that promised a bloody vengeance.
“I intend to end the war.”
