Chapter Text
She's ended up alone with a boy – a man, maybe, same difference – in an air balloon of all things, even though Zusa made a promise to herself years prior that she'd never be alone with one again.
(Unless it was Uncle. Uncle doesn’t count.)
It was a common held belief in the Fire Nation that Water Tribe savages would rape a civilized woman the first chance they got. In the Earth Kingdom, this belief was held about Fire Nation soldiers, and it had far more truth to it. She had witnessed this as a refugee: the little children in brown and green robes that could form fire in tiny palms, the horror on the faces of their weeping mothers, and the unrestrained rage of husbands whose violence was censured by their peers. These were the consequences of being a woman in war time.
(This is one of the things that disgusts Zusa the most about herself. That she knew how these women were suffering, what her Nation was doing to them, and chose her father again anyways.)
Indeed, the cruelty of men is not reserved for any one nation, but Fire Nation soldiers seem especially callous.
But, even though she has a natural distrust of men (and of boys, never underestimate boys, they can hurt you just as bad ), Sokka seems okay.
"I think your uncle would be proud of you." The Water Tribe boy says, partaking in a rare moment of vulnerability even though he knows nothing of her uncle. "Leaving your home to come help us? That's hard."
Hard. Zusa's done a lot of things in her life that would be considered hard, so maybe her tolerance is a bit skewed – but she doesn't think leaving was one of them.
She replies, "It wasn't that hard."
Sokka's skeptical. "Really? You didn't leave behind anyone you cared about?"
Every day now, when she wakes up, the first thing she expects to see is the round, animated eyes of her two year old daughter; but she hasn't for some time, and the one thing in the world that scares her more than the end of the world is the possibility of never seeing that face again.
She’d been too proud to even pray to the spirits for her father’s forgiveness, for assistance in the Avatar’s capture – and yet Zusa prays every day for her daughter’s safety. It's how she knows her father has never prayed for her own.
"Just my daughter.” She says, deceptively steady. “Himari."
Also, she supposes, her boyfriend, not that she'd admit that out loud. She knows how it sounds.
Sokka blinks. Caught off-guard, he says: “Oh, right.”
Zusa raises her eyebrow, prompting an elaboration from him. There was no way their little group didn't know about her daughter by now. Even for someone who grew up as isolated as Sokka and Katara did, for someone who was stuck in an iceberg for a hundred years like Aang, they wouldn't have been able to ignore the information of Zusa’s maternal status that was plastered all over her wanted posters, which were as numerous as the accompanying rumors were sordid.
He looks awkward, as if he’s afraid he’s offended her. “You’ve never talked about her before, is all.”
What did he expect? For her to gush about her daughter to the group of teenagers she’s hunted across the world?
Another burst of flames sprays from her palm into the compartment of the hot air balloon. It doesn't need to be fueled again, not yet; she does it for herself, to bleed out the excess energy swirling inside her chest.
“There’s not much to say.” She says, and it’s a blatant lie. In reality, she could write an entire play. Her life is certainly tragic enough to be the subject of one.
There's more awkward silence, an apparent staple of this balloon ride, until eventually Sokka speaks again.
“So… You get a babysitter? I can’t imagine Uncle Azulon or Grandpa Ozai’s filling that role.”
It’s supposed to be a lighthearted joke. Sokka doesn’t know the full extent of Azulon, who he really is to Zusa or her daughter. Though she can restrain her anger, hold her tongue – she can’t compel a laugh.
“No, they wouldn’t," She agrees. "Neither of them knows how to nurture anything except fire."
Sokka gives a short laugh. "That's a good one."
Zusa responds with a similarly short-lived smile, and adjusts her bangs so they fall in front of her scarred side. It's an unconscious habit she formed once her hair grew back long enough to utilize for this purpose.
You used to have such a pretty face, Azulon had said a few weeks ago. It made me sad, you know, when Father ruined it.
I wanted to be the only person ever allowed to hurt you.
Zusa licks her lips, forcing the memory out of her head, and tries to focus on Sokka's initial question.
"My Uncle… When I would visit him in jail, he told me that one of the guards there would take care of Himari if I ever needed to leave. I didn’t know what he meant at the time, but... Now I do."
She barely knew Ming, but if Iroh trusted her with Himari, then Zusa did too.
"Wow, your uncle really thinks of everything." Sokka comments, seemingly impressed.
Zusa nods, though the fact Iroh had been apprehended in the first place proved he either expected Zusa would betray him, or didn't see it coming. She wasn't sure which one was worse.
A prison filled with men — both guards and inmates — is a terrifying place for a woman.
She can protect herself. She has her agility, her firebending. (Sometimes, Zusa thinks women invented bending to even the playing field, and then men latched onto it and acted like they invented it, as they so often do.)
She’s not a little girl anymore, with her brother’s searing hands holding her down and forcing her compliance. But one wrong move, and she very well could be – only this time, her suffering would be at the hands of someone she didn’t share blood with.
Luckily, nothing happens, not along those lines. Though of course, Azulon shows up. He always manages to find Zusa whenever she goes, follows her to places he isn't allowed to be.
(Once, he compared the process of conquering Ba Sing Se to fucking a woman. He'd specifically used the word invade, if Zusa recalls correctly.)
The ride back is much more tolerable than the ride there, given the space of their aircraft has increased fifty fold.
She doesn't feel particularly comfortable with the fact a random inmate has hitched a ride with them back to base camp, especially a man of Chit Sang's size. If he tries anything, she'll char his eyes out.
Hakoda seems as honorable as his children. He gives Zusa plenty of room, though she's not sure if it's out of discomfort on his part, or consideration for hers.
But the one truly annoying thing… is Sokka's prodding. The short time they've spent together breaking numerous Fire Nation laws has made him far more secure in teasing her. Weirder, is that she's accepting it.
“Sooo… Meiji, huh?" He teases, giving her a sly smile. His left arm is wrapped around Suki's shoulders, but it's not possessive. She seems to appreciate the gesture.
Zusa likes it when Meiji does that, too. The way he lays his arm around her is loose with a built-in exit route, and he only does it when she gives him permission, never getting mad or upset when she wants him to stop touching or kissing her. Sometimes it feels as if he's one of the only men in the world that wouldn’t swallow her whole like a python-shark if given the chance.
Deep down, she thinks he knows something, and it doesn't even matter anymore, because he's probably dead by now. To stay sane, she's going to pretend he's not.
"Ugh." Is all Zusa can manage in response.
"I get it. He's handsome in a mannequin sorta way–" A what? "–And he's got that thing with the knives. Pretty badass."
Zusa nods, thinking back to their day at the beach. She's secure enough to admit that watching him ignore the fawning bachelorettes and pay all his (admittedly prosaic) attention to her was quite the ego boost. "He's popular with women."
"I'll bet," Sokka says, then, unexpectedly: "Is he the baby daddy?"
Suki hits him upside the head. "Sokka!"
Zusa can't even manage offense or outrage. She understands that from an outsider’s perspective, the identity of whoever sired the illegitimate child of the former Crown Princess of the Fire Nation is a juicy secret. Anyone with a healthy curiosity would want to know. But it doesn’t excuse rude behavior, so she just stares at Sokka as if to say, Really?, and he waves his hands to the tune of a profusely awkward apology. Despite this, he still seems disappointed when she doesn't confirm nor deny his theory of paternity.
When they arrive back at the Western Air Temple, seeing Sokka and Katara embrace their father only makes Zusa's heartache worse. Those who observe her and notice the look of longing on her face, if any, may assume it's because she wishes she was in Sokka's position.
But really, it's because she wishes she was in Hakoda's.