Violent Delights, ATLA

chapter nineteen, bottle up the laugh of fate

19
BOTTLE UP THE LAUGH OF FATE

ZUKO WOULD BOTTLE UP THE laugh of fate, screw the top tight with a cork, toss it into the river and let its currents flow. Perhaps whoever found the 'empty' bottle and opened it would be whoever fate would toy with next. He was done being a laughingstock in fate's eyes. But what choice did he have? His hopes of regaining his honour was long gone now and the Fire Nation has branded him a fugitive, alongside his uncle and friend.

First and foremost, they needed a change of clothes and necessary items that will give them the fresh start they needed. They found an abandoned cottage nearby the river having been taken over by moss on the outside. The bread in the cabinets had gone stale but at least the outfits left behind were decent.

"San? Is everything alright?"

Iroh was passing by when he spotted San struggling with something in the room she was occupied in, seated in front of a mirror with one hand holding a comb seemingly stuck in her midnight tangles. He entered and her reflection mirrored an awkward smile.

"It was until this stupid comb got stuck. There's no detangler brush here so..."

"Oh, then I can try to help." He suggested. As soon as he pulled on the brush, San yelled in pain. But by then, the comb had released itself.

"Ow, ow, ow..." She mumbled, squeezing her eyes and patting down her hair.

"Sorry," Iroh winced, "but the good thing is that your comb is no longer stuck. Here, I'll help you. I promise I'll be gentle this time." He hurriedly said the last sentence as soon as he saw her frown.

San visibly relaxed, her shoulders no longer stiff as tranquility settled in the air around them. Iroh kept his promise, combing through her hair as gentle as fingers brushing through rows of feathers. Nostalgia seeped into the edge of her mind because for a moment, Iroh's reflection became replaced by her mother's. Suddenly, in the mirror, San saw the five-year-old version of herself sitting on the stool contently, her mother combing her hair behind her while humming a soft tune under her breath. She blinked and the reflection returned to the way it was in the present with Iroh also humming an unfamiliar tune to himself.

"What song are you singing?"

"Just an old tune." He answered with a smile. "Leaves from The Vine."

"It sounds lovely," San said, returning the smile full of warmth and content.

"Okay, I'm done." Iroh declared, putting the comb down. "Would you also like me to style your hair?"

"You can do that?"

"I'm no hair stylist but I can try."

"Then I'd like a single braid, please."

The two yielded to the comforting silence again and before long, the elderly finished braiding her hair. San admired it in the mirror.

"You've done a really good job, Uncle Iroh. I'm impressed." She complimented with another beaming smile.

"So you love the braid?"

"I love it."

"Good," he sighed in relief, "this was my first time braiding someone's hair. I'll go try to find something edible in this house if they have any. You should go find Zuko and see if he's finished with whatever he's doing."

"Will do." San bobbed her head up and down and began her silent search for him. It didn't take long. He was by the wash basin of the bathroom, the door left open; his pants were tailored to the Earth Kingdom style but he still wore his red tunic, searching for something to replace it.