A Path to The Future

Before

It started with anger. Grief was not like anything else. It was all-consuming and nonlinear. It was all Iroh thought about in his waking hours, all he dreamed about in his unconscious ones. He grasped at his weary face, dug his fingers into his cheeks, stifled the sobs with his sleeves.

He had experienced grief before when he had lost his mother and his wife, but this was not the same. It was impossible to accept the loss of his own child. A child should always outlive their parent, and he told himself this repeatedly. Perhaps that was what was the most unfair of all. There was something profoundly wrong about losing someone so young, someone, who was half of who Iroh was.

And the fury resonated within his chest like part of his own heartbeat. It was hot and vengeful, raging with a fire so much angrier than he was used to.

When Iroh awoke, the cargo hold was ablaze. Sweat trickled down his forehead, and he stood, breathing hard. Alarm bells sounded, men came running down the steps with buckets of water, shouting.

He ran up the steps past them, grabbing more buckets and assisting them until the fire was out. Either way, the damage was done. Black burns ravaged the walls of the hold; supplies were burned to a crisp. Only a few barrels of dried foods were left.

A lanky man with a limp beard spotted him in his dull Fire Nation armor. The man stood into a salute, helmet askew. "General Iroh!" he cried, surprised.

"Stand down, captain," he replied, tired. "I was not here."

"Sir?"

"I wasn't here!" Iroh spat into the poor man's face, spittle flying. "And when I return to the Fire Nation, you will do well to remember that."

"But the Fire Lord—"

"Already knows," he finished for the captain. "Now, get out of my way." Iroh shoved past him, pushing him with a rough hand into the metal wall with a bang. He left him there lying on the floor with a stunned expression on his face.

He stepped off the vessel in a haze. The disembarking plank was already laid out, slanting onto the harbor of a rig in one of the colonies in the Earth Kingdom. He set foot on land without a second thought.

There were hushed murmurs that drifted about him. Soldiers and ranked officials alike bowed as he passed, but he paid them no mind. He walked past market stalls, the inviting scents of supper and roasted cured meats, the cloud of spices that trailed after him, the familiar heat of fire flakes.

His heart stopped for a beat. Lu Ten had loved fire flakes as a child.

Iroh squeezed his eyes shut, ignoring the calls of his fellow citizens to stop by. He made his way past the gates of the coastal town, past the battlements, the masked men, the fire of his people, and he breathed in freedom to find his own way.

The coins in his purse clinked against each other, rattling as he stopped in villages to buy breakfast. He had hidden himself in Earth Kingdom clothing, the greens and shades of olive obscuring the gold of his eyes. He was a simple, unassuming nonbender named Shu. He took it from the legend of the Cave of Two Lovers he had heard from singing nomads on his way to Omashu. Perhaps he would have thought the story beautiful once if one of the lovers had not also died in a war.

He glanced up at the walls that surrounded the towering city. It was another stronghold that the Fire Nation had yet to conquer. He had hoped that inside he would find a shrine to the Avatar of some sort. He knew it was far-fetched, but he thought perhaps a shrine to a great spirit such as the Avatar would have enough spiritual energy to help propel him on his expedition.

The guards did not give him much to wonder. They let him in along with a traveling family of merchants. Iroh supposed he was dirty and scraped up. Even his beard was unkempt, his topknot gone. He looked the furthest thing from Fire Nation as possible. If he was the man he was a month ago, he would have thought he could take the city down from the inside in the name of his country.

"Did you hear?" a middle-aged woman said with excitement to another. They were standing outside a shrine to Oma and Shu, just at the peak of the mountain-shaped city. It was not the shrine he was looking for, but he had to come to try.

"What, Aimi? More gossip from the court? King Bumi is celebrating his one-hundred and eighth birthday soon," responded the other woman.

Aimi shook her head, eyes wide. "It's not that! There's intelligence from the front lines that my husband got...you know he works for the king's messengers. He said that Fire Lord Azulon has died and Ozai is taking the throne! With an inexperienced leader, do you think those Fire Nation ash-makers will finally fall back? We might be able to take them!"

The other woman scoffed. "Don't get your hopes up. This war has been going on for generations. If there is any hope left, the Avatar will return, and you know what the chances are for that."

Iroh jerked forward, leaning on the earthen wall of the building before him. The women beside him paid him no heed. All he could see was the tiny statue of the two lovers embracing underneath a sculpture of an entrance to a cave, just by a plaque for the shrine. The sunlight made the grooves on every line appear deeper.

For a moment, he was his former self. He clenched a fist at his side, mouth forming a scowl. Lu Ten's slack face came into view, taking over his mind. No, he thought, I cannot be led astray from my goal.

His father was dead, and his brother took his crown. Iroh would not be going to the funeral. He did not care for that kind of power anymore. He only cared for Lu Ten.

Iroh ventured south in search of alternatives. He was desperate. Every waking moment he was on his feet, looking with his eyes and his ears. He meditated at shrines, temples dedicated to various spirits, and gardens meant for serenity. Still, he could not find that thread of energy he wanted; he desired beyond anything else.

He became disillusioned, rife with the agony of yet another failure.

He was no stranger to the ache of his heart and the emptiness that amplified every movement in his bones. His firebending became erratic, bursts of senseless energy with flames of fury at himself and his loss.

He used that same fire to strike down the vines he was currently dodging. The swampy water lapped at his thighs and covered him in a foul stench. Mosquitoes zipped past his ears, and he slapped at the pinching, itchy spots on his skin. The croaks of badger frogs cracked through the air, and the slithering cat gators in the waters did not help matters.

The swamp he had found himself in was bizarre, ominous. There were creaks in the middle of the night that he could not equate to animals, a shiver in the atmosphere that was left unsolved. He cast another fireball at the campfire he attempted to keep, but the wood kept fizzling out without a wind nor explanation.

Iroh sighed into his hands, shaking.

He only looked up at the sound of musical laughter. He knew that laughter, knew it like it had always been a part of him.

"Lu Ten!" he yelled, voice cracking from disuse. Excitement bubbled in his throat. "Lu Ten, where are you?"

I made it, he thought, a grin breaking his dried lips, I'm in the Spirit World! I can save him!

It had been too long, months, in fact. He could almost pretend that none of his sufferings happened if only to bask in the moment of clarity he had afforded himself. He crashed through the banyan grove, thrashing against whipping leaves and squirming plants. The laughter continued to his left, then his right. He followed without hesitation.

The water splashed. He tripped over roots and stumbled past screaming avian-like creatures.

"My son!" he bellowed, just as he saw the back of Lu Ten, shuddering with delight next to a tree. He was wearing his formal robes, his hair up in a traditional topknot. Even from behind, his son looked the same and as he had remembered him.

Iroh reached for his shoulder.

The laughter stopped. His son disappeared. It was a root that stuck out of the water that was taller than him and just as wide as a person. It was not Lu Ten.

"No," Iroh murmured to himself, collapsing to the ground. The swamp water covered him up to his waist. "NO!"

He had run out of fire to bend. He shut his eyes and sobbed. He felt the warmth of tears trail down his cheeks in rivulets. The darkness of the night encased him and choked him, black ropes tying themselves around his neck and his arms to his sides. He could no longer see anything but his own piercing pain as it throbbed.

He thought of the spirits and asked for their energy and help. They had not answered the call even once nor given him a sign. He was lost, and his son would never be found.

Iroh fell forward.

He kept falling...

And falling...

Falling...

And then, he rolled ahead onto something soft. Startled, he opened his eyes to see a world he did not recognize. The grass was emerald and ethereal, almost glowing. The field stretched on before him for what seemed like forever. He stood, seeing the bright cerulean of the sky. He followed the invisible string that tugged him along, curious to see where it took him, tears drying on his face.

He turned and saw a cliff edge. Just beyond it, he could see mountaintops. Glittering butterflies fluttered about, and gigantic birds that were as large as dragons flapped by. Gentle lavender mist swirled in the strands of grass and through the fabrics of his suddenly dry clothing.

He walked further still, and on the cliff, he saw a man sitting at a round table. He was bald, and in curious orange and yellow robes, a wooden beaded necklace hung from his neck. He had a white mustache that reached just past his chin, and his skin was wrinkled in old age. As Iroh came closer, he blinked and shook his head. He could not have been seeing an Airbender, could he? But no, he had to be because the elderly man had the blue arrow tattoos of Air Nomads' past, just as he had read in the history texts.

Without moving, he found himself sitting across from him. It was as if something willed him to sit there. He stiffened, stunned at the occurrence.

"Ah, a guest," said the old man with a kind smile. "I have not had one of those in a long time."

"Who are you?" asked Iroh, unable to help himself. He should have been attacking this man, this traitor to the world. This Airbender was a part of a race that had been bent on destroying the Fire Nation and had been a formidable foe with an army.

He did not realize that he said any of that out loud.

The man raised his eyebrows. "We Air Nomads do not—did not have a formal military, young one," he said. "I'm afraid that notion is incorrect."

When Iroh did not respond, the man added, "Gyatso is my name. What is yours?"

"Iroh," he croaked. "Where are we?"

"The Spirit World, of course," Gyatso said. He pushed a round tile on the table forward. "Care for a game of Pai Sho?"

Iroh gasped, realization hitting him like lightning to the metal on a stormy afternoon. Somehow, he had come to the very place he was seeking. He glanced around, seeing the odd sites that he must have missed for the first time. He finally realized how peculiar the setting was, how otherworldly. The mist did not act this way; birds were not that size.

He turned back to the man and the table. A circular board was laid out before them, lines carved into it in diagonals. There were round tiles on each side with markings, flowers and wheels, and a boat.

"I don't have time to be playing Pai Sho," responded Iroh. "I came here to look for someone." He scrutinized the man, suddenly wary of him. "Why are you here?"

Gyatso looked to him, gray eyes shining. There was something ancient in his gaze, knowing and sad. "I came here to look for someone too," he said.

"You haven't found them?" he queried, trepidation filling him. If this Gyatso had not found who he was searching for, then what hope did he have of finding Lu Ten?

Gyatso fiddled with the tile again. "No," he said, eyes downcast. "But I find solace in the fact that if he is not here, he is still out there, and the world will have a chance at peace. I tell myself that because I have to believe in him."

Iroh breathed in, fully facing the man and the table. He observed the tiles, hovering over one that looked like a chrysanthemum. He slid it forward onto a space. He had played Pai Sho a long time ago and learned the basics as a child with his teachers. He did not care for an ancient game, but he was told it was essential to become a proper general and master the art of strategy.

"I came here looking for my son," Iroh said. He did not know what had come over him, just that he knew he had to share this piece of information. Something in Gyatso's words made him trust him, even if the man was an Airbender.

Gyatso offered a white lotus gambit as his first move. "I see," he answered, voice soft. "I am searching for my son too."

Iroh stopped in the middle of picking up another tile, eyes wide as he stared at the man.

"Then you must understand," trembled Iroh, "that I must find him at any cost. I must because he died too young and too soon, and if I find him here, I will bring him back where he belongs."

Gyatso leaned back on his chair, expressing calm and maybe pitying. "If he is indeed here, you will not find him. I have learned that the Spirit World is like that. It tests mortals like us and our resolve. If you are looking for your son in hopes of bringing him back to the world of the living, you will not find him. He does not belong there anymore."

Iroh growled, banging his fists to the Pai Sho board and capsizing many of the tiles. "Then why do you keep searching if it's futile?! I did not come here to fail again!"

Gyatso remained unfazed. He looked at him with a kind, tired face, thick eyebrows scrunched together. "The difference between you and I is a fundamental one, my troubled friend," he said in a way that infuriated Iroh more. "It is that you are alive, and I am dead."

At those words, the fight left Iroh almost as quickly as it came to flare inside him.

"I can see that you have so much to live for, just waiting beyond you," Gyatso went on. "Yet, you find yourself here at a point that could be your lowest, mourning for a son you cannot accept has moved on." He paused, seeming to take Iroh in. "It is difficult to move on yourself, and I understand this. When I lost my son and the temples were attacked, all hope was lost, but I know that he is out there somewhere if he is not here. You see, I have found that in the darkest of times, hope is something you give yourself. That is the meaning of inner strength."

Something broke inside Iroh, and he slumped in his chair. The tears from before welled in his eyes and spilled over. His shoulders shook, his hands quivered. He could taste the salt on his lips. With every breath, he heaved another cry, and another part of him strived to fill the void in his soul with something else. Something new.

"Love does not vanish into thin air, Iroh," Gyatso whispered across from him. "It remains with us, even in different forms. Reborn with every lifetime and every person we meet."

"Only the Avatar is reborn," Iroh brought himself to say in between gasps. "So, how can you say something like that?"

"The Avatar is reborn, yes," repeated Gyatso with that knowing tone. "But what is that to say about love? If the Avatar can be born into each new lifetime with a new love and an old love, what is to say that love itself cannot be reborn? Is your grief not a manifestation of your love? Do you not still love the people you care about, the people that you have left behind?"

"There isn't anyone else. It's not the same."

"No, it isn't," agreed Gyatso. "However, I urge you to think of this. Do you think my love for my lost son is different from yours? We cannot separate love's energy just because the person is separate, just like we cannot redefine love across the borders of the four nations. All of it is the same and manifests within us even as we live on."

"It's not the same," Iroh repeated, adamant.

"You cannot tell me there is no one else you love," remarked Gyatso with an inquisitive frown.

Iroh stared at the white lotus tile that still sat in the center of the board, untouched by his frustration. The grooves of its carved surface were flawless, and the white paint unchipped. He thought of the lotus flowers in the palace gardens and how Lu Ten had marveled over them when he had been younger. He thought of how Lu Ten brought his small cousin, Zuko, to play in the flowers, to watch the lily pads bob on the surface of ponds, how he had urged Zuko to firebend for him.

Iroh smiled for the first time in many moons. He let out a breath he did not know he had been holding, looking up to Gyatso with an air of transparency. He picked up all the overturned pieces from the floor and onto the table. They played a game of Pai Sho in the speckled illumination of the Spirit World.

Iroh decided he would return to the Fire Nation soon. He had to if he were to return to the person he still loved. Nevertheless, he still had to prepare himself for the trip and the circumstances that would befall him. He was no longer the crown prince. He was a disgraced general. He needed to prepare himself.

So, he trained day and night, punching blasts as far as he could in the forests of the Earth Kingdom. Except, they were not the powerful long-range fire attacks he was used to. In fact, they were pathetic. Little tongues of flame spouted from his fists and sputtered out in nothing more than a half-second. Other times, it was simply smoke.

He practiced, and he tried as much as he could, to no avail. He could not come back to his nation like this. It meant he could not protect himself, nor the person he would return to. He could not teach him if he himself were a burden.

He shivered, rubbing his arms underneath the drab woolen cloak he wore. He had never braved a trip this far north before. There was snow on the ground and icebergs floating just beyond the bay of the village he was near. He must have been a short voyage from the Northern Water Tribe. Some villagers were traders from the north, waterbenders that came for Earth Kingdom vegetables and gave furs in exchange.

He watched some of the waterbenders at the docks, how they pushed and pulled streams between them, redirecting their energy with every stance. Iroh moved with them, hiding in the trees as he did, just to do something to warm his body when he could not conjure enough fire. He felt his chi move within him as he did so.

Still, the frustration that came with being unable to bend his own element weighed on his mind. It became a habit to pretend that he could still firebend the same way the waterbenders could waterbend.

Sighing, Iroh found himself going to the village that evening, looking for food. He needed time to think and center himself. He moved through the streets and people, stuffing his cold hands into his sleeves.

There was a wooden shop sign that swung back and forth in the chilling wind. It was a tavern, and it appeared warm on the inside. He felt around his pockets for change and was happy to note that he still had enough money for a cheap meal. He stepped inside, feeling the hearth upon his skin and thawing him into his core.

He was about to make his way to the counter where a woman was rounding up flagons of rice wine when a gentleman sitting by himself at the corner of the room caught his attention. He was Water Tribe and wore the blue and white that was typical of his people. He had long white hair that was balding, dark skin, a thin amount of facial hair, and a quirk at his mouth. In front of him was a Pai Sho board.

Intrigued, Iroh stepped away from the counter and sat across the man.

"Excuse me," the stranger said, tilting his head, "would you like to play a game of Pai Sho?"

"I suppose I would," Iroh replied. He took the first tile and placed it in the middle, just like he remembered Gyatso doing.

The man looked alert, then smiled. "I see you favor the white lotus gambit. Not many still cling to the ancient ways," he said.

"Someone taught me this," explained Iroh, a bit mystified by the man's wording. "It was an interesting strategy."

"Ah," said the man, moving to place another tile on the board. "Perhaps, I can teach you more. Would you be interested in learning?"

Iroh glanced upward, seeing the man's blue eyes twinkle in the lamplight. "Yes," he responded slowly. "I think I would."

The man laughed. "Perhaps you would like help finding your fire? I know of men who have knowledge which you seek and where you might find it."

Iroh stopped, sucking in a breath.

"My name is Pakku," the man said. "I have seen you by the water these past few days."

Despite himself, he smiled. "Iroh," he said. "I want to know how to make fire without any anger."

The two of them played many rounds until the tavern was filled with drunks and questionable folk. Iroh enjoyed the time he had there, surprising himself in those hours. The thought of finding a new source of fire, a new way to teach Zuko, kept him awake and brimming with energy.

The memory of Lu Ten still lingered under his skin, grasped at his heart, ached. Iroh did not let go of Lu Ten. He could not. But he could learn to accept what had happened. He would find himself and find the true meaning of his loss. He had already made so much progress. His anger at himself and his failures drifted beyond on the rushing tides of the ocean, and like ships, they sailed away into the sun.

NOW

Inside a standard Fire Navy cruiser, Prince Zuko, the banished Crown Prince of the Fire Nation, meditated in his room. As he continued to exhale and inhale peacefully, the candles in front of him calmly expanded before shrinking with every breath.

This was one of the few times one would find the banished prince without his typical scowl; instead, the scarred young man had a peaceful if not relaxed appearance, something rare for the hot-headed teen.

Suddenly the quiet was gone at the screech of the metal door opening, his Uncle Iroh poked his head in. Zuko continued to sit in his meditative position, his eyes never leaving the candles. "If the only reason you are interrupting me, Uncle. It better be news about the Avatar." The scarred prince said calmly, never once glancing at his Uncle.

Iroh opened the door all the way, making it screech louder, but it did nothing to displease the calmed prince. "I have news Prince Zuko, but you may not like it." The aged General glanced down at the scroll in his hand containing said news. "Don't get too upset," the teen's Uncle advised.

Zuko merely continued to gaze at the four candles before him, the small fire burning slow and calmly. "Uncle, you taught me that keeping a level head is a sign of a great leader. Now whatever you have to report, I'm sure I can handle it."

Iroh didn't hide his surprised face; perhaps his nephew had finally understood that someone should always be calm in any given situation.

Seeing his nephew's calm exterior, Iroh decided not to beat around the bush and instead spit it out. "Okay, we have no idea where he is." He answered truthfully.

"WHAT"

The small balls of fire ignited on the candles immediately grew in size and ferocity; in a matter of seconds, it had transformed into a violent inferno as Zuko's anger got the best of him.

The famed Dragon of the West didn't even blink even when the fire threatened to burn him; instead, the older man merely brought out a fan from within the pockets of his robes and started to fan himself. "You should really open a window in here," the man suggested while Zuko got up from his meditative pose and opted to grab the scroll out of his mentor's hands.

"Let me see the map!" Zuko snapped at his Uncle before opening the scroll, revealing a world map, including some of the minor islands. There were dotted lines that showed the Avatar was heading, but instead of staying in one direction, the boy had instead flown in a zig-zap pattern, leaving any patterns untraceable.

"There have been multiple sightings of the Avatar, but he is impossible to track down," Iroh explained while still fanning himself with the bright red fan.

With his traditional scowl in place, Zuko's gold eyes looked at the map and the Avatar's path, trying to figure out where he would appear next to no avail. "How am I going to find him, uncle?" Zuko asked his firebending teacher. "He is clearly a master of evasive maneuvers."

Team Avatar

On Appa's saddle, Sokka was looking at the same map as Zuko but didn't have their path inscribed. Glancing at the young Avatar who was flying and guiding the giant bison, Sokka had to ask, "You have no idea where you're going, do you?"

Aang took a second to consider Sokka's question before answering truthfully, "Well, I know it's near water."

Sokka looked around him to see endless water for miles ahead.

"We should be close then," Sokka said with sarcasm.

Sokka looked at the map before looking at the Avatar. "Aang... do you even have a compass?"

"No, why?"

"Then how do you know we're nearly there!?" Sokka exclaimed.

"Sokka, calm down," Katara told her brother while she continued to hem the boy's pants. "Aang's been to this place before; I'm sure he knows which way to go."

Aang beamed at the waterbender; The young Avatar looked at Momo, who was perched on his shoulders. "Momo, marbles, please."

The flying lemur chittered in reply before diving into the Avatar's shirt, before remerging with said marbles in his paws and plopping them into Aang's outstretched hands.

"Hey, Katara. Check this out!" Aang held out his hands, and immediately the marbles started to spin rapidly in a circular motion, making the dark marbles blur, all the while with a cheesy smile as he tried to impress the Water Tribe girl.

Katara hadn't even looked up from her sewing, "that's great, Aang." She said, disinterested, still not looking up.

Aang's grin soon fell apart when Katara didn't notice nor was impressed by his airbending move. He stopped channeling wind in his palm, making the marbles fall into his hand. "You didn't even look."

Katara glanced up for a single second, "that's great."

"But I'm not doing it anymore," Aang said, disheartened.

"Don't worry, Aang," Sokka said as he leaned casually against the saddle. "Girls need their space when they are sewing."

Katara, who had gone back to sewing Sokka pants, immediately stopped and whipped her head towards her older brother. "What does me being a girl have to do with sewing?" She asked, looking ready to stab her brother with her needle.

"Simple, girls are better are at fixing pants than guys. And guys are better at hunting and fighting and stuff like that." Sokka explained as though it was obvious. "It's the natural order of things."

The waterbender had a mocking smile as she held up Sokka's half-fixed pants. "All done with your pants!" She said mockingly, "and look at what a great job I did!" She held the pants even closer to Sokka, making sure to point out the large hole in his pants before throwing them across the saddle and right into Sokka's face.

"Wait!" Sokka tried to say as he attempted to get the pants out of his face; he looked rather dumb, wearing nothing but his underwear and upper coat with his pants stuck on his head. "I'm sorry!" The Water Tribe boy tried to say as he finally managed to untangle himself from the pants. "I was just kidding, Katara, please!" Sokka stuck his hand through the hole as though justifying that he needed his pants sewn.

"Relax, Sokka. Where we're going, we won't need any pants!" Aang exclaimed from Appa's head.

For the next hour or so, there was nothing new besides the soft growls of Appa or the chitters of Momo; even the loud snores of Sokka did little to change the scene.

Squinting his eyes, he could make out the faint outline of mountains and tall pine trees. "Land!" Sokka called out to Aang, who had been fast asleep on Appa's head even though he should have been awake to guide Appa and not crash them into the ocean.

Katara crawled over to the side. "We made it, wherever we are anyway."

As they got closer, Sokka and the others noticed that the island was fairly small and was shaped like a rugged crescent moon.

Aang guided Appa to land on the shore; immediately, the bald monk jumped off the bison and ran towards the shore, gazing at the ocean with childish glee.

"Aren't we supposed to be heading to the North Pole?" Sokka asked the Avatar. "With all the pit stops you've been stopping at, we won't be there until I'm one hundred and twelve."

Aang, who had been peering at the ocean as though looking for something, ignored the sarcastic warrior and instead gasped and pointed out something on the horizon. "Look!"

Suddenly a large Koi fish, easily the size of a small hill, leaped out of the ocean and seemed to hang in the air, the sunlight glinting off its golden scales, before crashing back into the seawater with a large splash.

"That's... a massive fish,"

"That's why we're here." Aang explained as he started to undress, "to ride the elephant koi!"

"Wait, so we flew here to rid fish?" Katara asked in disbelief.

Aang nodded his head and grinned.

"Cold!" The two siblings still on a beach had time to see Aang jump up from the freezing cold ocean, but he continued to swim out into deeper waters.

Sokka and Katara watched on and waited for him to come back up; the water he had been started to bubble, and then one massive koi fish emerged from the deep ocean.

When someone meant big to describe these fish, they meant easily fifty times bigger than Appa, who was a full-grown Sky Bison. Aang was holding on to the large dorsal fin. Katara smiled when she heard Aang cheering the Koi on

On the other hand, Sokka just continued to sit on the beach with the same bored and gloomy expression.

Even from across the small bay, Katara could still see Aang beaming at them, the thought of him trying to impress her never seemed to catch her mind, Katara started to cheer for him as the Koi began to leap and swim with surprising speed and agility.

Sokka gave her an exasperated look, complete with a roll of his eyes. "Why are you cheering him on? The fish are doing all the work!"

Aang saw schools of normal-sized fish around him, darting around the reef and some even swimming along.

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw something. Something big, dark, and alien, something that shouldn't be there. But when he turned back, he saw nothing, and by the time he had realized most of the small fish were gone, the golden Koi he was riding had finally returned to the surface.

Aang didn't seem to notice his friend's distress; he merely beamed and waved at them.

"What was that thing!?" Katara exclaimed as the four watched the large fin disappear into the murky deep.

Aang was putting on his clothes, "I don't know." He said as he stared at the spot where the monster had disappeared with wariness in his smoky grey eyes. "But whatever that thing is, I really don't want to find out."

Sokka rubbed his hands together before gesturing to Appa with his thumb jerk. "Well, whatever that thing is, it can remain unknown to us. Aang, you've had your fun; now it's time to take to the sky and get off this stupid island."

It seemed that fate had something else for the three young travelers, or maybe the spirits just loved to scorn Sokka.

All Sokka saw was a flash of dark green and gold before someone grabbed him from behind. The young teen fought against the grip, but he felt something hard hit his temple.

Stars flashed through his field of vision, and he could barely resist when he was bound and flung to the ground, quickly following the others. They had even bound Momo!

"or we could stay awhile." Before darkness overtook him.

"Aang, wake up!"

Aang groaned and leaned back; his head bumped into something that did not help his headache. He was quick to notice, even in his pained state, that he had been bound to a large wooden pole with the others; other than that, he did not know. Whoever had kidnapped him had blindfolded the Airbender.

"You three have some explaining to do..." A voice that was obviously a man, perhaps a more older man judging by his voice, said to the bound travelers menacingly.

"And if you don't answer our questions, we'll throw you into the bay to feed the Unagi." Whoever spoke know was obviously a woman, but something told Katara that you didn't want to piss her off.

"Show yourselves, cowards!"

And there goes Sokka, Katara thought with a small sigh. Always one to jump the catapult.

The blindfold was ripped off, allowing Aang and the others to see. Once his eyes adjusted to the light, he realized he was surrounded by women wearing forest green robes, and their faces were covered in pure white makeup with red eye shadow.

"Who are you? Where are the men who captured us?" Sokka demanded.

The woman who had spoken earlier, the leader, Aang realized, spoke again. "There were no men; we captured you!" The leader, who looked a little older than Sokka, gestured towards the women in the green robes.

Sokka snorted in disbelief. "Yeah, right, like a bunch of girls took us down."

That wasn't the right thing to say, primarily since they were being held prisoner by said women who did look happy at Sokka's little comment.

The leader strode up to the young Southern Water Tribe warrior and grabbed the boy by the shirt. "A bunch of girls, huh? The Unagi will eat well tonight." She threatened, looking well prepared to throw the teen to the Unagi, whatever that was. Aang was hoping they wouldn't have to stick around to find out.

"Wait, don't hurt him! My brother's just an idiot sometimes." Katara said in hopes that they wouldn't harm her boneheaded big brother.

"It's my fault," Aang said somberly, a rare frown adorning his boyish features. "I just wanted to ride the elephant koi."

"How do we know that you're not Fire Nation spies?" The older man asked suspiciously as he looked at Aang. "Kyoshi has stayed neutral in the war so far, and we intend to keep it that way."

"Stop, They are not enemies" the team turned to see someone walking towards them. Katara immediately noticed his spiky blonde hair and ... whiskers??

The team found his appearance strange, but before they could ask who he was.

"Naruto, Why should we let them go?" The woman said with a softer tone before turning and glaring at the group.

"Because the bald one is The Avatar."