Chapter 16: The Weight of a Century
Zuko limped down the narrow, dimly lit corridor of the ship, his body still wrapped in bandages, the faint smell of medicinal herbs clinging to him. His steps were slow and deliberate, each movement sending a dull ache through his muscles. The burns on his exposed skin—his arms, neck, and parts of his face—were still raw, but the pain had subsided enough for him to move without wincing at every step. He had insisted on going to the brig alone, despite Iroh's protests. This was a conversation he needed to have without his uncle's calming presence. This was between him and the Avatar.
The brig was cold and damp, the metal walls reflecting the faint glow of the lanterns hanging from the ceiling. The sound of Zuko's uneven footsteps echoed as he approached the cell where Aang, Katara, and Sokka were being held. The three of them were huddled together, their expressions a mix of curiosity and apprehension as they saw Zuko approaching. His appearance was startling—bandages covered most of his body, and the burns that peeked through were a stark reminder of whatever battle he had just endured.
Sokka was the first to speak, his tone as sarcastic as ever. "Well, well, look who decided to visit. What happened to you? Lose a fight with a cactus or something?"
Zuko stopped in front of the cell, his golden eyes narrowing slightly as he regarded Sokka. "I fought a firebending master," he said, his voice calm but firm. "And I was shot by lightning."
The words hung in the air, heavy and shocking. Aang's eyes widened, and Katara gasped softly. Even Sokka's sarcastic smirk faded, replaced by a look of genuine surprise.
"Wait, what?" Aang asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. "Why is the Fire Nation fighting amongst themselves?"
Zuko's gaze shifted to Aang, his expression unreadable. "Because of you, Aang," he said without hesitation. "It hasn't just been the rest of the world searching for the Avatar this past century. Ever since my grandfather, Fire Lord Sozin, killed off all the airbenders that fateful night you ran away on Appa, we've been searching for you."
Aang's face fell, his shoulders slumping as guilt washed over him. His gray eyes filled with sorrow, and he looked down at his feet, unable to meet Zuko's gaze. Katara placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, her expression a mix of anger and concern.
"Wipe that look off your face," Zuko said sharply, his tone cutting through the heavy silence. "It was actually a good thing you left that night, Aang. Otherwise, you might not be here, and this war would have ended a long time ago."
Aang's head snapped up, his eyes wide with confusion. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice trembling.
Zuko leaned against the metal bars of the cell, his arms crossed over his chest. "Well, I say it's a good thing because the war dragged on," he continued, his voice steady. "But it's only good for the Fire Nation that you ran away."
Katara's brow furrowed, her protective instincts kicking in. "What are you talking about, Zuko? How was it good for the Fire Nation that Aang ran away?"
Zuko's gaze shifted to Katara, his expression calm but intense. "Surely you must have given it some thought since you found him frozen in that ice block," he said, his tone almost mocking. "Not even you, Sokka, with all your brains, didn't think about it?"
Sokka's eyes narrowed, his usual sarcasm replaced by genuine curiosity. "Just tell us already, would ya?"
Zuko sighed, pushing himself off the bars and standing upright. "Very well, then," he said. "Imagine this scenario. Aang was just playing with the other airbender kids at the Southern Air Temple, right? His mentor and master, Monk Gyatso, calls him over to the side and tells him of his identity as the next Avatar."
At the mention of Monk Gyatso, Aang's eyes widened, and his body tensed. "How do you know about Monk Gyatso?" he demanded, his voice rising with anger. "How do you know any of this?"
The air in the brig grew tense, and a sudden gust of wind swirled around the cell, rattling the metal bars. Aang's eyes burned with fury, his hands clenched into fists. Katara quickly stepped in front of him, her hands raised in a calming gesture.
"Aang, stop!" she said, her voice firm but gentle. "Calm down!"
Zuko, however, remained unfazed. He didn't flinch at the sudden burst of wind or the anger in Aang's eyes. He simply stood there, his expression calm and unimpressed.
"I'll explain everything to you, Aang," Zuko said, his voice steady. "But only to you. And I'll do it soon. For now, just calm down."
Katara placed a hand on Aang's chest, her touch soothing as she tried to calm him. After a few moments, the wind died down, and Aang's shoulders slumped, his anger giving way to exhaustion.
Zuko waited until the room was quiet again before continuing. "So, where were we?" he said, as if nothing had happened. "Ah, yes. Monk Gyatso tells Aang that there are rumors of a possible threat from the Fire Nation."
He paused, his gaze shifting to Sokka and Katara. "Isn't that weird?" he asked, his tone almost conversational. "The air nomads, the elders, knew the Fire Nation was building an army to attack for years before they told Aang. Before the Earth Kingdom spies in the Fire Nation capital were even falsely given information that the first strike would happen somewhere in the Earth Kingdom."
Aang's eyes filled with tears as Zuko's words brought back memories—memories that felt like only a few days ago to him but were, in reality, a hundred years old. The image of Monk Gyatso, the Southern Air Temple, the other airbender children—it all came rushing back, and Aang began to sob quietly.
Katara wrapped her arms around him, her own eyes glistening with tears as she comforted him. "Zuko, stop," she said, her voice trembling with anger. "You've made your point. Just stop."
Zuko looked at Aang, the young boy of just twelve, burdened with so much responsibility at such a young age. For a moment, Zuko felt a pang of guilt. He remembered sitting in his living room, watching this same boy go through so much pain in order to defeat Ozai. The same Ozai who was now his father in this world. The nostalgia of that moment hit him hard, and he felt a strange mix of emotions—sympathy, resolve, and a deep sense of responsibility.
"I'm sorry, Aang," Zuko said, his voice sincere and heartfelt. The words surprised everyone in the room, even Zuko himself. "I really am sorry. But the thing is, the world isn't going to wait for you to be ready."
He took a deep breath, his golden eyes locking onto Aang's tear-filled ones. "So let me get to my point so you'll maybe realize why it might have been better if you died with the airbenders on that fateful day."
The words were cruel, and Katara's eyes flashed with anger, but Zuko pressed on, his voice steady and unyielding.
"You see, if Fire Lord Sozin had managed to kill you that day, it would have meant the war would last only twenty years at most—not five times that amount. The next Avatar would have been born into the Water Tribes. She would have been from the South or North, and back then, both tribes were considerably stronger than they are now. With the Avatar on their side, plus the support of the mighty Earth Kingdom, there would have been no chance for the Fire Nation."
Zuko's gaze hardened, his voice taking on a bitter edge. "But you being alive and frozen in ice for a century delayed the Fire Nation's defeat and diminished the other nations' hopes. It delayed the Fire Nation's defeat long enough for it to turn into a win. A win that's now just around the corner."
The room fell silent, the weight of Zuko's words settling over everyone like a heavy blanket. Aang's sobs had quieted, but his face was still streaked with tears. Katara held him tightly, her own eyes filled with a mix of anger and sorrow. Sokka stood silently, his usual bravado gone, replaced by a look of deep thought.
Zuko turned and began to walk away, his footsteps echoing in the silence. He had said what he needed to say. Now, it was up to Aang to decide what to do with that knowledge.
Zuko paused at the door of the brig, his hand resting on the cold metal frame. He turned back to face Aang, his golden eyes piercing through the dim light. The room was heavy with silence, the weight of his words still hanging in the air. Aang's tear-streaked face looked up at him, confusion and sorrow etched into his features. Katara held him tightly, her protective embrace a shield against the harsh truths Zuko had just laid bare. Sokka stood silently, his arms crossed, his usual sarcasm replaced by a rare moment of introspection.
Zuko took a deep breath, his voice steady but softer now, as if he were delivering a final blow that he knew would hurt but was necessary. "If you had died back then," he said, his tone almost clinical, "the number of casualties would not be in the tens of millions. It would have been a few thousand, maybe a few hundred thousand at most. The war would have been shorter, sharper, and far less devastating."
He paused, letting the words sink in. Aang's breath hitched, and Katara's grip on him tightened. Sokka's jaw clenched, but he said nothing. Zuko's words were cruel, but they were also undeniably true. The war had dragged on for a century, and the cost had been unimaginable. Entire nations had been ravaged, families torn apart, and cultures nearly wiped out. The Fire Nation's relentless pursuit of power had left scars on the world that would take generations to heal.
Zuko's gaze softened slightly as he looked at Aang. "I'm not telling you this to make you feel guilty for being alive, Aang," he said, his voice quieter now, almost gentle. "In fact, I'm glad you are alive. You'll understand what I mean by all of this very soon."
Aang's eyes widened, confusion mixing with the sorrow. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Zuko's lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "One of your past lives will explain it to you when we reach her," he said cryptically. "You'll see."
With that, Zuko turned and walked out of the brig, the heavy metal door clanging shut behind him. The sound echoed through the corridor, leaving the three friends in stunned silence. Aang slumped against Katara, his body trembling as the weight of Zuko's words settled over him. Katara stroked his head gently, her own heart aching for him. Sokka stood nearby, his usual bravado replaced by a rare moment of quiet reflection.
Aang sat in silence, his head resting against Katara's shoulder. The tears had stopped, but the weight of Zuko's words still pressed down on him like a physical force. He felt small, insignificant, and utterly overwhelmed. How could he, a twelve-year-old boy, possibly make up for a century of war and suffering? How could he carry the hopes of an entire world on his shoulders?
Katara's voice broke through his thoughts, soft and reassuring. "Aang, don't listen to him," she said, her tone firm but gentle. "You didn't ask for any of this. You didn't choose to be the Avatar. And you're not responsible for what happened to the airbenders or the war. You're just a kid."
Aang looked up at her, his gray eyes filled with doubt. "But what if he's right, Katara?" he asked, his voice trembling. "What if the world would have been better off if I had died that night?"
Katara's eyes filled with tears, and she pulled him into a tight hug. "Don't say that," she whispered fiercely. "The world needs you, Aang. You're the Avatar. You're the only one who can bring balance back."
Sokka, who had been silent until now, stepped forward and placed a hand on Aang's shoulder. "Listen, buddy," he said, his voice uncharacteristically serious. "Zuko's a jerk, and he's got a lot of nerve saying all that stuff. But he's also right about one thing—the world isn't going to wait for you to be ready. So we'll just have to get you ready faster."
Aang looked at Sokka, a small flicker of hope igniting in his chest. "How?" he asked.
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