Chapter Text
“Well, that was stupid,” Ako mutters derisively as they leave the dock, and Zuko sighs in frustration. Uncle and Jiro don’t say anything.
“What did you want to do?” he says. “He wouldn’t leave us alone.”
“Something not stupid,” Ako says.
He doesn’t even know if she means turning Jet down or if she means talking to Jet at all. Definitely she means something he did, though, because she always does.
“There is no harm in it,” Uncle says. Zuko doesn’t want to hear from him about doing anything stupid.
“Tell me that the next time your tea’s cold,” he says darkly. Uncle coughs. Zuko glowers at him, and Ako pads along the street, looking around warily. She’s a wolf-serpent again. A big one.
Zuko really doesn’t know how to feel about that.
It’s better than the lemur, he supposes. That’s always . . . complicated.
Jiro’s complicated enough. A komodo tiger is not a very “Earth” daemon. They’re lucky no one’s figured them out.
“You’ve been in that form for some time, Ako,” Uncle observes. Zuko glowers at him again, and Ako snaps into a tiny chameleon-lark and flits up into the air overhead. Uncle lifts his hands placatingly. “I was only saying.”
“It wasn’t that long,” Ako says, although it was a long time for her. She can’t even pretend to be settled. It’s embarrassing, sometimes.
Zuko’s the oldest person he’s ever known with an unsettled daemon, and has been for a while. The Avatar’s daemon is settled, for spirit’s sake, and Azula’s Rei was settled before Zuko and Ako were even banished. Mai and Ty Lee were both settled too, and so are all of the Avatar’s companions.
Zuko doesn’t know what’s wrong with him, that Ako can’t pick a shape and stick to it. No one else has this problem. No one else is as slow as he is.
It makes him feel like he’s doing something wrong, and he hates it.
“It is alright,” Uncle says, which it’s not, because nothing ever is. “Now, let’s see if we can find ourselves a place to stay, and perhaps some gainful employment.”
“Fine,” Zuko says, though he doesn’t want to. He’s exhausted, and staying here feels wrong. That was always the plan, of course, but that doesn’t mean he likes it.
What else can he even do now, though?
It’s no wonder Ako can’t pick a shape. It’s no wonder he is the way he is. It’s–
“Careful,” Uncle says, putting an arm in front of him just in time to stop him from getting run over by a cart. Zuko almost wishes he hadn’t. At least it’d be a distraction from the way he’s feeling.
He thinks about Jet again, and Ako flickers through restless shapes.
That doesn’t even make sense to do.
She stops on the spirits-damned lemur, of all things, and Uncle very carefully doesn’t say anything.
She never used to take that shape. She was always purely, classically Fire animals. Now she turns into all sorts of things, including the damned Avatar’s damned lemur.
Uncle’s never asked, which is some mercy, because Zuko’s never been able to explain it.
He wishes she wouldn’t do it, though.
Ako looks at him, but for once doesn’t change.
He has no idea what he’s supposed to think of that.
“Let’s try this way,” Uncle says, and heads down a side street. Zuko can smell tea brewing, and rolls his eyes in frustration. Of course, he thinks.
They spend a few hours looking around until Uncle finds a place for them to stay and jobs for them to work, and Zuko spends the time memorizing the area just in case. If they need to run or fight, he wants to know where they’re going. Ako prowls the edges of crowds in tiny, flitting forms, and Jiro takes up too much space.
Zuko looks at other people’s daemons, and wonders what the difference is between him and them.
He doesn’t think about the Avatar, or Azula, or Jet, or anyone else at all.
By the time the day is over, all he wants to do is sleep, but he’s too wired. Too suspicious. They’re not safe here. Jiro’s too big, and Ako’s too inconstant, and he’s too memorable. Uncle’s the only one who might be able to disappear into a crowd, and he does stupid things like bend his tea.
Uncle shuts the door of their temporary rooms and puts out the lights, and Zuko doesn’t feel any safer at all.
Uncle and Jiro lay down to sleep. Ako perches on the windowsill as a panther-cat, restless and waiting. Zuko watches her.
There’s nothing to wait for.
There’s nothing.
Ako’s ears flick, and her head jerks around. She’s heard something. Zuko immediately rolls to his feet, grabbing for his swords. Uncle and Jiro both keep snoring, which means whatever Ako heard isn’t close enough to be dangerous.
Yet.
Zuko creeps to the window. Ako’s fur bristles, and she darts out over the sill. He follows her immediately, swords in hand, no hesitation at all. They shouldn’t, but–
Ako’s a shadow in the sky, and there’s a figure with a wolf-serpent standing on the roof across the street.
Zuko’s eyes flare.
There are a lot of things he could do. A lot of things he should do.
Ako circles in the air high above Jet and Kira, and Zuko measures the gap between their roofs.
If he was smart, he’d just go back inside.
He’s not smart.