Ten years had passed since I opened my eyes in this world. Ten years of lessons, of training, of watching the world slowly reveal itself to me. Ten years of fire.
I had proven myself quickly. Not just a prodigy—something else entirely. My control over fire was precise, disciplined, merciless. Flames bent to my will. And now, after years of relentless practice, my fire had finally evolved into something few could even dream of. Blue flames danced along my arms, hotter than any standard fire, hotter than any heat wave this world had ever known. They didn't flicker. They didn't waver. They obeyed me as if sentient, responding to thought alone.
It wasn't hard. Not for me. My body and mind were built for this, and the Uzumaki bloodline flowing through me gave me reserves of chi that dwarfed even the strongest masters in the palace. I could have burned this city to ash if I wanted. But I didn't. Not yet. I had bigger plans than reckless destruction.
Zuko was… less promising.
I sighed as I watched him spar across the courtyard. He moved too fast, too impatient, flinging fire without focus. His frustration was visible, his temper boiling over whenever his flames fizzled out midair. I had taught him the basics, drilled him on fundamentals, and corrected his stance a hundred times. But he wasn't talented. Not really. He didn't have the patience, the discipline, the innate control that separated a prodigy from a mediocre bender.
And still, he tried. He always tried.
I wiped sweat from my brow and folded my arms as his latest burst sputtered and died. "Focus, Zuko," I said, voice calm but edged with exasperation. "Speed means nothing without control. Concentrate. Your fire should respond, not fight against you."
He scowled. "I am concentrating!" His hands flared again, the flames jagged, orange, chaotic. "See? Look!"
I rolled my eyes. "You're not listening. You're trying to skip the basics. Fire isn't a toy. It doesn't care about your frustration. It only answers discipline."
Zuko's jaw tightened. "I don't need discipline. I need results!"
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "No. You need practice. Fundamentals. Patience. If you want results without the work, you'll burn yourself alive before you even reach blue fire."
He stared at me for a long moment, eyes flashing with stubbornness—and I couldn't help but feel some pride beneath the exasperation. He was my brother. He was mine to guide. And if anyone could survive the harshness of this palace and come out stronger… maybe it would be him.
Meanwhile… Azula.
The little storm of a girl had arrived a few years ago, and already she carried herself like royalty—and like a firebender born to command. I had barely glanced at her when she was crawling, and already the servants whispered. "She's like… the fire itself."
I had no doubt they were right. There was something unnatural in her control, her poise, the way her eyes followed movement even as a toddler. But she was young, too young to bend, too young to understand what power really meant. Yet I could feel it, coiled within her like a spark waiting to ignite.
I made a mental note: she had potential—but my focus for now remained on Zuko… and on my own practice.
Blue flames crackled across the courtyard as I trained. My fists moved in intricate patterns, twisting, slicing through the air, leaving arcs of light and heat in their wake. The ground beneath me scorched, the wind shivering as it approached. The other students—and even some of the palace guards—watched from a distance, eyes wide, faces pale. They had never seen fire bend like this.
It wasn't just skill. It was talent multiplied by chi, by discipline, by years of preparation before most even took their first breath of power.
I pushed further, testing the limits. Flames coiled around my arms, up my shoulders, and burst into a column that stretched higher than the rooftops. Blue fire roared, the air shimmering with heat, yet it remained obedient. It was mine. All mine.
I let the column die down slowly, hands trembling slightly from exertion. Even I, with all my strength, had limits. But it was only temporary. I had no intention of staying below my ceiling for long.
Zuko approached cautiously, keeping a safe distance. "How… how do you control it like that?" His voice was a mixture of awe and fear.
I glanced at him. "Control isn't about willpower. It's about understanding your body, your chi, your mind. Most benders try to force fire. That's why they fail." I let my blue flames flare faintly again to illustrate the point. "Fire answers thought. Emotion. Discipline. You have neither mastered. Yet."
He flinched but nodded. Not because he understood fully—but because he respected me. And respect… sometimes came before progress.
I glanced at Azula's nursery window, just across the courtyard. Her tiny eyes were pressed to the glass. Already watching. Already learning.
This family… this palace… this world… It wasn't just a game. It was a battlefield. And I was not here to lose.