A few minutes later. Training grounds.
"Remember this, Chan: the essence of firebending is breath. Martial arts, movement — all of that is secondary. Fire begins here." He poked me somewhere around the diaphragm. "It passes through your energy center, gathers strength in the lungs, and leaves with the exhale."
Now the full cycle.
"Watch me and repeat after me."
The firebender began demonstrating exercises I had never encountered in any scroll, book, or from any military instructor. Ordinary breathing… or so it seemed.
And yet, after Iroh corrected a few nearly imperceptible flaws in my movements, I felt… something.
A vague sensation in my chest. Not the cliched "bonfire" or "sun," but something else… It had always been there, and I had even used it before — the familiar "fire-spit" had shown me how my hands directed part of that something outward, where it became flame.
"Wrong! Again!"
The harsh bark from the "kind old man" snapped me out of it somewhat.
The fact that I was "trying to paint with my feet" had already been obvious enough, but how exactly was I supposed to get the brush into my hands? I tried simply to "breathe," but…
"No! Again!"
***
Two hours later.
"Wrong again. Once more!"
If Iroh trained Zuko the same way, then I sincerely owed the guy an apology — he was patience and restraint incarnate. Personally, for the last twenty minutes I'd been passionately yearning to wring this old fossil's neck!
The irritation and desire to strangle Iroh aligned remarkably well with an exhale and a swing of my arm, but this time the familiar "something" did not separate in a mere "piece." Instead, all of it, completely, surged toward my lungs, changed there and… flowed into my arm, from which erupted a torrent of fire that would put any flamethrower to shame, engulfing nearly fifty meters ahead of me.
The surprise alone almost sent me sprawling onto my backside.
"Now that is something," the firebender smiled. "Again!"
My eye twitched nervously.
***
The following morning.
I greeted the dawn horribly sleep-deprived, but immensely satisfied.
Because in addition to "breathing," I had also managed to wring out of Iroh a "look over and correct" session for the foundational katas upon which the entire firebending system was built. All those hundreds of techniques, combinations, offensive maneuvers, and defenses (though Fire had precious little of the latter, and most of those existed primarily to defend against fire itself) were built upon a couple dozen fundamental movements. Everything else was merely branches and modifications that one could eventually arrive at independently.
I was still, frankly speaking, painfully average. In "pure bending," someone like Zuko would roast me alive without even noticing the effort. But I had finally managed to move off dead center. More than that, I had laid down a solid foundation.
I could feel that I still lacked understanding, true comprehension of the underlying processes themselves, but compared to where I had stood yesterday, I had taken an enormous step forward.
Then again, throughout my life I'd always been more of a practical man than a theorist, but… this was Magic! You couldn't just start treating it like some utilitarian tool!
Iroh's lessons had cost me nearly my entire stockpile of classic jasmine tea and White Dragon, which he consumed during training in industrial quantities. And of course, I had to send him off with a little something for the road as well. So when we parted ways, the general and I were, if not exactly friends, then certainly good acquaintances.
Zuko… Zuko didn't look especially lively either, and the amount of thoughtfulness radiating off him was considerable. I wondered what had happened to him last evening, and whether it had anything to do with Kori's equally sleepy little face.
Surely they hadn't…?
Ahem.
No, unlikely. The prince was still far too fixated on Aang to care much about the rest of the world, and Kori, for all her airheadedness, had been raised in a traditional family — and a highly placed one at that, with all the corresponding rules and expectations.
So with a boy she'd barely met, and on their very first meeting, no less… noooo, not a chance.
Well.
Maybe kisses.
And even then, only on the cheek.
As I said my farewells to the inhabitants of Kyoshi and boarded the ship, I found myself replaying my conversation with the exiled prince over and over again in my mind.
Perhaps my first impression of Zuko had been overly critical. At heart, the guy wasn't bad. In some ways too naive, too idealistic, and… far too kind.
What would I do if I absolutely needed the Avatar right now? I'd head to the South Pole, take the entire village hostage, and then plaster "messages" across every post in the Earth Kingdom — either you come to the designated place at the designated time alone and without any funny business, or I slow-roast the friends and relatives of your friends alive.
The trick would be not to overdo the threats, otherwise our dear "not-comrade" might activate bankai and start handing out beams of friendship to everyone in sight.
The problem was that I still wasn't entirely sure I could subdue the little bastard even if I lured him into a prepared location. Besides, a method like that would automatically destroy everything I'd spent the last six months preaching about and working toward.
Victors, of course, aren't judged.
But killing or imprisoning Aang was only half the problem. The second half was holding the conquered territories.
I'd been to the North myself. Bohin hadn't lied — the garrisons were barely sufficient to maintain control over the region as it was. Yes, part of the army remained tied down at the front, and victory would free them up, but right now, in many regions, the population still remained relatively neutral toward us. What if they started treating us like the Belarusians treated the Germans in '42?
You couldn't get very far on terror alone.
Which meant it wasn't enough merely to win — we had to win "beautifully" and "honorably"… or at least make everyone believe it had been honorable.
Yeah… one hell of a task.
But regarding Zuko, I was certain of one thing: putting that naive young man on the throne was a very, very, very bad idea. And now I'd backed up an opinion once based solely on canon with actual firsthand experience.
(End of Chapter)
Bonus chapter for 300 stones! And don't forget — it's the start of a new week, so I'd be especially grateful for your support.