Violent Delights, ATLA

chapter ten, music night

San said nothing but merely sighed. It was easier to tolerate his temper more than Azula's at least. See, he did listen to her advice- only his execution wasn't perfect and he couldn't tolerate it for long. She chalked it up to him taking out his fury aimed at his entire situation to his firebending training and others around him. When he finally decided to duel her in a friendly match, he began the first move and took to the offensive. She cancelled out his fire with her own in a composed manner, only sliding in one or two offensive attack here and there, less assertive in the fight compared to him.

"You're holding back." He accused, their spar coming to a halt.

San frowned, keeping her guard up. "I'm not."

"You are! Who fights like that?"

"I do. I've always fought like this." Then she sighed, massaging her temple. "You're not the first one who thought I was holding back. I just tend to act on the defensive more and focus on other parts of the fight rather than fighting head on."

"So that basically means you hold back." He scoffed, preparing himself in another firm stance. "Your kindness is your weakness."

"Not at all! If we're talking about weakness, the only weak thing here are your..." She snapped, his accusation apparently triggering something as she desperately attempted to find the words to finish her sentence, "...hair follicles!"

He instantly let his guard down in surprise by her retort, subconsciously patting the bald spots of his head. "You- you take that back right now, San!"

But she was already on her way below deck, intending to return to her room. As she exited, Iroh entered, appearing befuddled by the current situation. "Seems like I missed something."

Zuko's temper continued raging throughout the day. Though his firebending lessons resumed with his uncle, it didn't make him less impatient. He didn't begin to appreciate how fortunate he was to have an everlasting persevering parental figure such as Iroh and took his vexation out on him, eventually storming off into his room.

On the way, he noticed San's door open wide. He halted and turned to it, watching her sit at the desk with her hands massaging the sides of her head out of exhaustion, a piece of paper lying before her eyes with less than five words scribbled on it.

"What are you doing?" He demanded, growing suspicious.

"Trying to write a letter." She hesitated. "To Princess Azula. But I swear, it's not what you think—!"

"Why? You ran away from her without a trace for a reason." He scoffed, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. His mind wandered to her being a spy, that she lied about following him to get away from his sister but was instead following him as a spy for her to indirectly keep an eye on him. Although as quick as the very thought conjured itself in his head, it vanished. The candour gleam in her eyes banished all of his inner doubts.

"I know." She mumbled barely loud enough for him to catch, crumpling up the paper. "I don't know. Even though she's been terrible to me, some part of me deep down feels horrible for leaving her without a letter at least explaining why I left."

Was she incandescent? Relieved? Unbothered? Four months had passed already and there was no sign of anything malicious coming to bite San's behind.