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Aang was bent over his table, tongue sticking out in concentration as he tried to be precise while adding noodles to his portrait of Fire Lord Ozai. A part of his brain insisted that it was one of the stupidest things he had ever done, but mostly… he just felt rather content with the situation.
Being surrounded by kids his age, feeling like he was nobody special once again, just like he did before the monks had decided to tell him he was the Avatar and shredded his old life to piece… all of it felt great. He knew that they needed to move on because the war was still raging, but he couldn’t help it—when would he possibly get another such opportunity to just be a kid?
So he focused solely on his work, tuning out the chuckles from his fellow students who all thought his idea of using noodles for his portrait was ridiculous. He knew it was ridiculous. That was the point.
Their teacher, Ms. Kwan, looked severely down at his work and let out a heavy sigh. When he momentarily glanced up to see her expression, he found mostly exasperation adorning her face as she shook her head at the portrait. But since she wasn’t telling him off for it, he figured he wasn’t doing anything wrong. Kind of.
Hey, maybe he could show this to the fire lord as a sign that while he was upset, they could work things out. After all, where else would Ozai get another talented noodle-painter such as Aang, right? He was one of a kind. Especially when it looked like nobody else in this school was ever allowed to express any sort of creativity.
And then he made the mistake.
Ms. Kwan moved on to the front of the class once again so she could get the attention of the entire class and talk to them some more, but when Aang raised his head away from his work of art and over to her, he missed the fact that his elbow was leaning on the edge of one of the tails of his bandana. Which meant that the sharp movement tugged at the fabric, making it slip down to his eyes.
Blind for a second, Aang startled, then quickly tried to put the bandana back in place before anyone noticed anything, but he could tell it was too late by the shocked gasps all around him. And once his eyes were seeing again, he found all of the eyes in the room trained on him, staring owlishly and fearfully at his forehead, where the bandana was once again covering his arrow.
He cringed, shoulders hiking up until they were brushing his ears as he hunched in on himself.
Shoji, from the front row next to On Ji, gawped at him, muttering, “…Kuzon?”
“Did you see?” someone whispered.
“The arrow,” another hissed. “The blue arrow.”
“Blue arrow,” a third one agreed.
“Those markings… I’ve seen them before…” someone said thoughtfully.
And then Ms. Kwan coldly said, “The Avatar!”
Alarm bells rang in Aang’s head at the feeling of a body shifting on the earth. He reacted immediately by blowing a gust of air at the fire the teacher just sent his way, which made the flames blow away from him and toward the other students, who flinched and ducked their heads to avoid getting burned.
“Whoa!” he said. “You nearly hit your students!”
The woman’s angry expression mellowed down a bit at that as she sent a look around to make sure no one, indeed, got hurt. But once that was done with, all the attention went right back to Aang, who wished he would have had the foresight to try and ditch those Fire Nation soldiers who’d brought him to the school in the first place. Heck, he should have listened to Sokka and Katara when they tried to tell him not to return to class.
Plastering on a very fake smile, Aang raised his hands in surrender and tried not to look like he was as nervous as he was. It was hard with the feeling of sixteen pairs of eyes locked solely on him, studying him. While Ms. Kwan looked both alarmed and furious, the students were now staring at him like he was the most frightening thing in existence.
“Okay, I know this looks bad,” he tried to say, but was cut short by a hysteric kid behind him.
“The Avatar is gonna kill all of us!”
Aang blinked at the worried murmurs that broke throughout the room at that exclamation. He could see Ms. Kwan tensing again, looking around as if trying to figure out a way to get to Aang without getting hurt or hurting any of her students. It made it that much harder to focus, because there were just so many potential enemies surrounding him; an attack could come from any direction.
“I-I’m not gonna kill anyone,” he protested. “I swear. I only came here to—”
“To spy on us?” said Ms. Kwan frostily, her nostrils flaring as she glared at him. “And make a mockery of our culture. Butchering our nation’s anthem, dancing in music class, making a portrait of our ruler out of noodles—I should have known something was off about you.”
Two seats ahead of him, On Ji muttered, “But he was so nice…”
Shaking his head, Aang said, “I wasn’t trying to make fun of the Fire Nation. And I wasn’t trying to spy on anyone. I just… well, actually I got led here by mistake.”
“I’m going to call the guards—” said Ms. Kwan as she went to walk toward the door.
Aang sprang out of his seat and quickly made his way to the door, blocking it with his own body. The woman’s eyes widened and she took a startled step back, hands coming up as if to summon fire, but she wasn’t moving. Instead, she seemed to be looking him over, sizing him up.
“You really are the Avatar,” said one of the kids in horror.
With a flinch, Aang turned to look the looks aimed at him. All of them looked terrified, as if they were expecting him to use his bending to attack them, so that no one would walk out of there alive. It made his stomach clench, knowing so many kids were scared of him—just because they were told to fear him.
“Look, I’m leaving, okay?” he said placatingly. “I’m leaving and you can go back to your class and forget you ever saw me. No harm done. You can even keep my noodle portrait—and I was gonna give it to my friend.”
A few kids sent looks toward said portrait, scrunching their noses up in confusion at the odd creation.
“So your name isn’t really Kuzon, is it?” said Shoji somewhat dejectedly. “Where’d you even come up with it?”
Ms. Kwan opened her mouth—clearly to scold the boy for talking to Aang instead of keeping his lips sealed in the presence of their enemy—but before she could say anything, Aang already spoke up, smiling fondly at the memory of his old friend.
“Before the war I used to have a Fire Nation friend named Kuzon. We got into all kind of trouble together, but it was always worth it. He… he was one of my best friends.”
“You were friends with someone from the Fire Nation?” a boy muttered in awe and trepidation.
“Sure! I had friends all over the world!” said Aang brightly. He kept an eye on Ms. Kwan the entire time, but also sent the students a smile. “I’m a nomad. I go from place to place all the time, it’s how I’ve always lived my life. Making friends along the way was one of the best parts about it!”
Ms. Kwan narrowed her eyes at him. “Before the war?” she said stiffly. “Do you take us for fools, Avatar? The war began a hundred years ago. You weren’t even born back then.”
Aang sagged a little against the classroom door. “I was born before the war started. I know it’s hard to believe—I had a hard time wrapping my head around it too. I probably wouldn’t have survived the genocide of my people had things gone differently. The only reason I’m here is because I ran away before Sozin’s Commet arrived.”
On Ji’s head tipped to the side. “You don’t look over a hundred years old, Ku—Avatar.”
“It’s Aang,” he corrected with a sad smile. “And I’ve been frozen in ice for this whole time until my waterbending friend found me. Without her I’d still be frozen right now.”
“Which would have benefitted us immensely,” said Ms. Kwan coldly.
Aang met her gaze. “You have to know what you’re doing is wrong. Somewhere inside you, there must be a part that understands subjugating all the other nations like that isn’t the right thing to do. The Fire Nation used to be great, powerful and rich. It flourished a hundred years ago, when the world was at peace. And now… now you’re trying to take over all of the other nations. You have to know it’s wrong.”
A girl near the back said, “The Fire Nation isn’t subjugating anyone. We’re sharing our prosperity and advancement with the rest of the world.”
“Yeah,” the boy beside her said. “We’re trying to help the world. My dad told me we’re years ahead of everyone else. We’re trying to make things better for the other nations but they’re fighting us.”
There were murmurs of agreement from most of the other kids. Shoji and On Ji exchanged a look but ultimately seemed to agree with the general consensus that their nation was doing what was right. But there was a spark of doubt in their gazes that gave Aang a bit of hope. If they were willing to at least hear him out, maybe he could do something. Maybe he could help them break free of these false notions they’d been taught since birth.
“I hate to say this, but that’s not what is happening out there,” said Aang, both stern and apologetic. “The other nations don’t see your greatness—they only see people who want to take over their homes, destroy their way of life for the sake of having more land and more power.”
“Nonsense,” dismissed Ms. Kwan.
Shoji’s forehead creased. “But…”
“And I’m sorry, but you’re not far ahead of the other nations,” Aang pressed on. “My friends and I ran into Earth Kingdom people who had to flee their home because of the Fire Nation. And then, to maintain some semblance of peace, they had to provide the Fire Nation with inventions created by them. Besides, the other nations might be struggling with their own advancements because of the war. They’re so busy trying to defend themselves, they don’t have time to work on creating new things unless they’re meant to help them fight.”
Leafing through her history book, a girl said, “But that’s not what it says here…”
“Your history books are wrong,” said Aang. He looked all around before meeting Ms. Kwan’s gaze. “I don’t know why the war started—maybe it really was supposed to be a noble thing, trying to help the other nations because of the Fire Nation’s great peace and prosperity. Maybe it was never meant to become bad. I don’t know, I wasn’t there. But I do know that that’s not what’s happening now. Now… all your soldiers do is take over the rest of the world, imprisoning or killing anyone who stands in their way. Earthbenders aren’t allowed to bend, the Southern Water Tribe is barely even there anymore.”
He swallowed thickly and blinked away the tears gathering in his eyes as added, “The Air Nomads aren’t even around anymore. I’m the only one who’d survived. Does that sound like something a great, honorable nation would do in the name of peace?”
“That’s—that’s not—” the woman tried to argue, though her voice was trembling unsurely.
“Did you not fight with them a hundred years ago?” asked a boy in the second row. “With your nation’s army, when Fire Lord Sozin attacked. You said you ran away—”
Aang’s brows creased. “W-wait… what army?”
Huffing, Ms. Kwan finally drew her hands back and crossed her arms over her chest instead of holding an offensive stance in front of Aang. Either she was mulling his words over or she realized he wasn’t trying to hurt any of them so there was no immediate need to attack him. Besides, she was clearly not the best bender. She could produce fire—and Aang admittedly knew very little regarding actual firebending—but she wasn’t a match to him. Using merely air would be enough for him, he knew. She probably knew that too.
“The Air Nomad army, of course,” she said irritably.
Eyes widening, Aang shook his head from side to side slowly and said, “We didn’t have a formal military force, Ms. Kwan. My people were pacifists, almost all of us. Airbending relies almost entirely on defense rather than offence. We believe all life is sacred and has value. If we have to, we’ll fight, but our first choice would always be to try and solve a problem peacefully. So we didn’t have an army—we never thought we’d need one. We just wanted to live peacefully.”
Almost everyone was gaping at him. Aang looked at them all, feeling both on edge and hopeful. If they would just listen… if they’d only take his words to heart… it wouldn’t solve all his problems. There would still be a war raging outside the walls of this school, but at least one class in a Fire Nation school would be aware of the true nature of the hundred year war. A bunch of people would be aware of the truth, of the horrors they’ve been kept in the dark about.
While everyone else was still seemingly taken aback by this new information, the boy from earlier asked, “So did you run away because you knew the attack was coming?”
Scrunching up his nose, Aang hesitantly admitted, “Well… no. I had no idea. I just heard I was going to be separated from my friend and I didn’t want that to happen. So I left. Apparently just in time to avoid getting murdered right along with everyone else.” He looked down at his feet, hands clenched by his sides. “I hate to say it, but running away saved me.”
“Then why are you here now?” someone asked suspiciously. “Why come to our school?”
Aang rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Well, I didn’t know these clothes were school uniform. Honestly, the soldiers outside just saw me and thought I was supposed to attend. I wasn’t sure how to get out of it without telling the truth. And it’s… it’s been really fun.”
“Fun?” said Ms. Kwan doubtfully. “You think it’s fun to fool us all into accepting our enemy into our midst?”
“I think it’s fun to feel normal for a change. Ever since I was told I was the Avatar, everything’s been so different. I was treated differently for it. all my friends stopped including me in games, saying I was basically cheating by being the Avatar. But here… I don’t know. I just had the chance to be like everybody else. I didn’t mean to insult or disrespect anyone, honest. I was just enjoying having a normal school day.”
Apparently this wasn’t what Ms. Kwan had expected to hear. She blinked at him owlishly, like he was an odd animal attempting to speak her language. Her shoulders slumped down a bit, as if her defenses were being lowered at long last. For once, she looked at Aang like she was seeing a kid rather than her nation’s greatest threat or a mannerless colony slob.
“I thought the Avatar was the enemy of the Fire Nation,” a girl said timidly. “That’s what my parents have been saying. But… you’re just a kid.”
As if compelled to educate, Ms. Kwan recited, “The Avatar is the enemy of the Fire Nation. His purpose is to defeat us by killing the Fire Lord and anyone else opposing him.”
“Actually,” said Aang, “what I’m supposed to do is bring peace and balance back to the world. Such as ending this war so the four nations wouldn’t be at war anymore. Or… well, the three nations now. I’m not trying to defy you just for the sake of it. I’m not even trying to rule the world instead. I just want the war to end so people can live in harmony again. A hundred years ago travelling around the world used to be so easy. Now people have to sneak around or lie either to avoid Fire Nation soldiers or to avoid the suspicion of the others who have grown wary of this war.”
Ms. Kwan looked physically pained as she seemed to mull over his words. Some students began whispering to each other, looking remarkably fussy over what they were being told. On Ji was staring at Aang like she was torn between believing him and leaning more toward the things she’d been taught since she first opened her eyes. Shoji’s lips were parted in shock.
Aang met their eyes, all of them, and tried to convey how genuine he was being. He needed to let them know he wasn’t lying to them or omitting the truth. They had to realize their beliefs, their ideals, their whole history were a lie. If this whole experience could prove to be a little bit positive it would be worth it. It would all be worth it. He just needed to make sure they knew he wasn’t pulling the wool under their legs.
“So… you’re saying we’re on the wrong side of this war?” said Shoji at last.
“I’m sorry. This must be really difficult to hear.”
The teacher pursed her lips. “We were taught that the Air Nomads were a danger to our nation’s existence. Fire Lord Sozin attacked them for the sake of defending us and eliminating the Avatar, knowing he—you—would prevent him from achieving his noble goal.” She paused, then asked, “What is your truth about your people then?”
Biting his lip, Aang shifted his weight between his legs. “The Air Nomads were peaceful. They travelled a lot around the world, exploring it and learning about the different cultures of the other nations. Air is the element of freedom,” he said, creating a small puff of swirling air over the palm of his hand and attracting wonderous yet cautious looks from all around. “My people would detach themselves from the physical world to get closer to the spiritual one. It's why we were all benders, unlike the people from the other three nations.”
“Wow…” a few muttered.
“Wait, you could all airbender? All of the Air Nomads?”
“Yeah, pretty much. At least, I’ve never heard of an Air Nomad who couldn’t.”
On Ji lifted her hand, as if to ask a question during class. “Did they all have these arrows on their heads or is it only an Avatar thing?”
Ms. Kwan sent her and the kid from before a chiding look for speaking up, then instantly turned back to look at Aang with the same light of curiosity shining in her eyes as her students’. Aang would have laughed had he not felt compelled to answer as soon as possible so the spell hovering around the room wouldn’t break.
“It’s not an Avatar thing,” he said with a chuckle. “The arrows go all over my body. They follow the chi in our body. Every Air Nomad who mastered the element got to participate in the ceremony where they would get their tattoos.”
“Mastered it?” a boy spluttered. “No way. I don’t know anyone who managed to master firebending at our age.”
Aang smiled brightly. “Y-yeah, I got mine when I was twelve, not too long before I found out I was the Avatar. I was the youngest Air Nomad to ever get their tattoos. I guess it just always came naturally to me.”
“Can you earthbend?” a girl asked eagerly.
“Can you waterbend?” asked another.
Shoji’s eyes sparkled eagerly as he leaned forward and said, “What about firebending? Can you firebend really well too?”
Smile dimming, Aang said, “I can waterbend pretty well and my earthbending is getting much better now—although that was really tough to crack at first. But… I’m never gonna firebend.”
They immediately started protesting, grumbling about how it wasn’t fair to judge the element itself just because Aang disagreed with their Fire Lord and what he was trying to do. He tried to speak but they kept on speaking over him, cutting him off with voices full of hurt and bitterness.
At last, Ms. Kwan glanced at his face then loudly said, “Let him explain himself before you judge him! We’re getting a very rare learning experience right now. Try to make the most of it before the Avatar leaves.”
“Aren’t we calling the guards?” someone asked, then cowered under the judgmental looks of his peers.
“We are not,” decided Ms. Kwan. She gave Aang another assessing look. “As much as I loathe to admit it… there might be truth in what he says. The older legends tell us the Avatar’s side was usually the one humanity needed to take. Going against him was like going against nature itself. I suppose… this should have been a sign we were doing the wrong thing all along.”
Aang stared at her, then bowed respectfully. “Thank you for giving me a chance.”
She frowned, her eyebrows creasing together. She seemed to be on the fence, debating whether she should really hear him out or not. But apparently her longing to hear new information and perhaps learn some more won this internal battle. For now, anyway.
“I don’t have anything against firebending because of the war,” Aang told the insulted classroom. “Believe it or not, when I first found a firebending teacher, I was ecstatic. I wanted to learn to firebend. I thought it would be awesome!”
Shoji watched him interestedly. “Then why’d you change your mind, Ku—Avatar.”
“It’s Aang,” he repeated, then his voice turned downcast. “When I practiced… my teacher tried to warn me, tell me I wasn’t ready. He said I had to learn discipline first and I wouldn’t hear him out. I was too impatient to try it out. So eventually he’d left me alone and I decided to try firebending on my own. It was exhilarating for a moment… and then I burned my friend’s hands.”
There were gasps around the room. On Ji’s eyes widened in horror and she covered her mouth with both hands, looking devastated. Shoji’s face slackened and turned extremely pale. There were a few murmurs from some of the others who were all taken aback by this turn of events. Several of them—probably the firebenders—stared down at their hands as if they were suddenly afraid of their own unique ability.
Ms. Kwan had a rare, amused smirk on her face. “That is no reason to swear off the element completely, young airbender. Fire can indeed be dangerous. It can hurt the people around us with ease. But so can the other elements. Earthbenders can crush others with rocks; waterbenders can drown their opponents at will; airbenders—while might be peaceful—can most likely suck the air right out of a person’s lungs if they so wished to.”
Aang blanched. “That’s horrible.”
“But possible,” she told him sagely. She formed a small flame and held it in front of Aang. “Listen to me, Avatar Aang—all the elements can hurt and kill if used a certain way. With you being a pacifist I don’t suppose to meant to hurt you friend in any way—”
“Of course not!”
“—but fire wasn’t the reason this had happened. You could have surely hurt them just as much had you been practicing firebending without the proper instructions or temperament. That is what your teacher had been trying to tell you. But fire itself… while it’s contained and controlled and at peace… is a beautiful thing.”
He looked at her skeptically.
She frowned back. “I am no master firebender, but even I can feel the life in my flames if I concentrate hard enough.” Holding out her hand, she said, “Take it.”
Aang pressed himself more firmly against the door. “Seriously, I shouldn’t.”
“You wanted to feel like any other Fire Nation student, did you not? Well then, allow me to teach you something that has not been completely corrupted by our leaders. Take the flame, Avatar.”
Well, he did say that.
Biting his lip anxiously, Aang shakily held out his hands, cupping them underneath Ms. Kwan’s own. He tried to focus on his breaths—the way Jeong Jeong had told him to do all the way back during their lessons—instead of the fear that seemed to grip his limbs at the idea of once again trying to firebend. The image of Katara screaming in agony and clutching her hands to her chest flashed behind his eyelids but he pushed it away.
Just breathe. Focus.
And then Ms. Kwan drew her hand back, leaving the flame hovering over his open palms. Aang sucked in a sharp breath and the flame rattled, turning smaller and dimmer but not going completely out. He held his breath for a second, refusing to move an inch in case he lost control and accidentally burned the teacher or one of her charges. But when nothing else changed, Aang finally exhaled and peered down at the flame curiously.
“Now concentrate,” said Ms. Kwan calmly. “On the energy in your body, on the flame you’re keeping alive. What do you feel?”
He blinked down at the dancing fire. Last time he’d created fire he hadn’t paused to marvel at it. He’d instantly moved on to playing around, throwing it all over the place like it was a game. But this time he kept still and tried to focus on the feeling of the fire. He could feel it. It was right there, his senses—his bending—reaching out to it, controlling it, containing it as much as he could. And it—
“It’s like a little heartbeat,” he awed, gently pulling his hands closer to inspect the fire more closely.
The feeling of its heat taunting his skin made him chuckle in delight. Jeong Jeong had made Aang fear fire and everything it represented, constantly talking about it like it was the most awful form of bending in the world. But Ms. Kwan made it sound like any other element. With its own pros and cons. It could burn people if Aang wasn’t careful—Jeong Jeong was right about that—but it could also be this small, lively thing that provided light and warmth.
The sound of the school bell chiming snapped him out of his trance. Aang looked up in disappointment, his hands falling down by his sides, the fire extinguishing automatically as his lack of concentration.
“I’d better go then,” he said somewhat sheepishly.
For a second Ms. Kwan just stared at him, then she said, “And here I thought you wanted to go through an entire school day for a change. That is what normal students do.”
“Y-you should stay,” said Shoji, rubbing his neck awkwardly while grinning at Aang. “Then we can play hide and explode after class! You could join us!”
A few other kids nodded their agreement.
“But—” Aang stuttered, looking wildly around, utterly astounded, “I thought—”
“Besides,” the teacher added with a sniff, “if we encounter another inaccurate fact in our studies, it would be beneficial to have someone around he knows better than our history books.”
“I-I was only around a hundred years ago. I kind of missed the last century. I wouldn’t be able to tell you much about—”
On Ji smiled hopefully up at him from her seat. “Please, K—Aang. None of us would tell on you. You could stay until the end of the day at least.”
There were more nods from everyone as they murmured happily, urging him to stay and finish the school day properly. Some of them still looked more hesitant than others, but even they smiled at Aang encouragingly when he met their eyes. No one protested the idea of him lingering around. No one seemed to dislike his presence too badly anymore.
With a thrilled grin, Aang stepped away from the door, bowed once again at Ms. Kwan—properly, so she’d know he wasn’t trying to mock her or her nation—then returned to his seat and his noodle portrait of Fire Lord Ozai. Right, he still needed to finish that.
From the front of the class, where she was once again situating herself behind her desk, Aang thought he could hear Ms. Kwan muttering, “Mannerless colony slob… I should have realized…”
Swallowing a smirk, he glued another noodle to his portrait under the eyes of his classmates.