Chapter Text
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"Point there."
"What if it's an animal? The light is definitely going to get us killed."
"We'll be fine, don't be a coward."
........
Hakoda had no intention of returning to the deck that night nor of abandoning his pitiful bed. Against all odds, the darkness brought a good night's sleep like never before since the crew boarded, and if you want to be active enough to do activities like, for example, not dying, at least 5 hours of sleep, stinking of sea odor and constant turbulence, were definitely heaven. Luck definitely hates the Water Tribe, and fire has always enjoyed evaporating them. There's nothing he can do.
The man only slid a hand over his tired face before standing up from his bunk, ignoring the fact that nothing covered his bare, defenseless chest. It didn't matter; if Bato decided it was a good time to rebel, Hakoda wouldn't care about anything except leaving some money and another memory for his son.
He hoped at least that it wouldn't end up like Kya's necklace.
.......
The salty air, as humid as it was rough against the skin, only resulted in a cocktail too disgusting to breathe before going to sleep. It didn't help the already horrible temperament that Hakoda carried with him. If anything could worsen the scowl firmly installed on his face, it was definitely that the entire crew was gathered on the deck as if they were witnessing a circus show not seen in 100 years.
Mental note: any circus show really hadn't been seen in 100 years.
Hakoda just patted his face.
"I swear if someone doesn't explain to me what the hell is going on, I'm going to throw everyone overboard so they can be sure of what's happening."
Panuk let out a slight laugh typical of his age, refusing to say anything or look his boss in the face. Damn, sometimes Hakoda wished he didn't remember the time spent inside the Akhlut.
The time without—
"It's a person," Bato informed without the youthful joviality, which was another low blow for the Water Tribe leader. If anyone noticed his snort, they simply didn't mention it or were too smart to avoid talking about it.
And certainly, that didn't make him feel any better.
......
"Leave it, this place is warm enough during the day for it to be our problem," he said, crossing his arms, still refusing to see the unexpected act of a bastard abandoned on a damp and moldy beach. He didn't have time to pity anyone if his own people wanted to eat three times a day. "And since you still have plenty of energy, it would be useful if we could set sail at once."
No one moved.
The vein on Hakoda's forehead became so noticeable that the only one paying attention to him feared it would explode at any moment.
"I'm not—"
"You, boy, bring the lantern." Perfect! As if Hakoda didn't have enough with appearing ruthless by ignoring a life he didn't feel responsible for, the misfit Kustaa seemed to have escaped his stereotypical serious, old, and insensitive doctor role to take some leadership.
It piqued his interest.
......
Golden eyes.
The burning honey replaced by poisonous bile.
Hakoda felt his own spirit ignite without restraint.
.......
"Fire Nation," he murmured without bothering to hide it.
Why would he?
His anger bubbled to the surface of his skin and immediately transformed into the dull gray that invaded his blue eyes filled with pure resentment.
Golden eyes.
Golden eyes.
Fire.
Katara.
Ozai.
"Leave it," he repeated in a tone that left no doubt whether it was a trick or a mere disguised suggestion, harsh and biting, as they deserved. Hakoda burned, like a flame destroying defenseless fauna with just a small stimulus and a slight push that had the audacity to seem careless.
But everyone there were dirty hypocrites, so it didn't matter.
"He can't be more than 20 years old."
"Panuk is younger and is here serving in a war those bastards started," he declared with a coldness that chilled the air even more, if that were possible. "Leave it, I'm not going to repeat it. And we set sail NOW."
"Of course, boss," Bato rolled his eyes with disinterest, while the others opted for the safe option, obeying without further objection, although their cold orbs never left the guy behind the deck.
Kustaa simply ignored what his boss muttered like a spoiled brat. He rubbed his cold hands before once again overlooking Hakoda's words and taking the rusty lantern between his equally worn fingers, pointing it again toward the miserable beach waiting at the feet of their ship.
Again; wet, grayish sand from the waste, sharp rocks, smelly mold, and oh.
"Fire pup."
"What?"
"Shit," the healer muttered in an inaudible tone, typical of someone who definitely didn't want to be there and would kill to turn back time even if it were just a few seconds, or just a few years. "Fire."
Bato ran to the deck again only to observe the remnants of what had caused his healer's pallor. Of course, for a man desolate and ruined by common life, the image would simply represent a man from the Vulcania Ignis nation lying and receiving what his dictator had given him like an obedient dog. For Bato, it was definitely revealing.
A huge smile crossed his age-marked face until it transformed into an almost manic expression to those watching. He would simply enjoy his discovery. "Lower the rope."
"What are you—" Hakoda tried to speak.
Bato jumped, held by the miserable extension of the ladder they had, and although Hakoda definitely had intrigue and a thorn of bad feelings stuck in his chest, a few minutes of typical human doubt were enough for Bato to return, being pulled up by the rope by Okari. The water leader was thankful he didn't have to be the one to do that.
Maybe finding out earlier would have made it better.
.......
Fire pup, in every sense of the word.
.......
When he was thrown to the ground without a shred of respect, like another useless burden and another man to execute, Hakoda wasn't sure what the hell that meant.
He stained his planks with blood and dripped bitter tears onto the wood of his ship. Bato ignored any sign of weakness and primitively approached the lump lying on the ground, took the neck of his coat, and removed the hood from his head.
If Tui wished, the tide would return his little man.
If that wasn't the divine command, then at least they could get some use out of him.
The horrible, textured scar ending in a ruined ear, the golden eyes of pure honey or costly amber, the features of his face, the smoke coming from his mouth with each painful exhalation.
Bato's sick smile transferred to him in a second. God spoke; who was he, as a faithful servant, to disobey?
"Well, well," the guy looked at him with his good eye wide open and the other as much as he could, emitting one last dragon's breath. "Look what we have here."
"How lucky we are, eh?" His second-in-command rummaged in one of his pockets and, without giving him time to protest, just placed a knife on his prisoner's throat. "If you're good, you won't die here, so answer."
"What the hell are you doing in these parts, Prince Zuko?"