Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s been one day and three hours since the ship took off from the caldera harbor in the capital, and Zuko is looking out over the stern, watching the wake of the ship as it carves a path through the clear ocean. One day and three hours. A week since the Agni Kai. He stops himself, hand halfway to his face to fidget with his bandages. Curling his hand into a fist, he tries to focus on the pain of his nails digging into his palm. What would Uncle say if he were here? Something about not dwelling on the past, but he’d say some proverb instead. Dwelling on what ifs aren’t going to help him. He has his mission. He failed once, he’s not going to fail again.

It’s nine thirty in the morning, and Zuko’s dwelling on the past. It isn’t fair, he thinks helplessly. He’s done everything he could have. But it wasn’t enough. Because he’s weak. He’s not going to make that mistake again.

A loud clang sounds from below deck, and he winces as the dull throbbing in his head is suddenly piercing and painful. He pushes the heel of his free hand over his right eye, trying to alleviate the skyrocketing pressure behind his eyes. He opens his eyes and blinks. His head is still pounding. Belatedly, he hears footsteps from behind him.

“What?” he snarls, gritting his teeth together as he turns around. Third Lieutenant Daiki is staring at him, eyes wide.

“Uh. Sir, Chief Engineer Katsumi sent me to report that the uh. The engine blew out, so we’re gonna be stalled until he can get the camshaft fixed? I think he said camshaft. Uh- sir.” he stutters out as Zuko stares.

Zuko turns back to the railing. “Tell him to hurry. We need to be out of Fire Nation waters as soon as possible. We don’t have time to mess around.”

“Sir yes sir I’ll uh. I’ll tell him.” There’s a pause, and then the sound of rushed footsteps away from him. Finally. Zuko leans against the railing. His head still aches, and he’s very carefully ignoring the constant itch under his bandages. As much as he wants to continue staring out over the horizon, pretending none of this is happening, he has work to do.

Under his armor, Zuko shivers. They’re still in the Fire Nation, but the early spring air on the sea is chilly. He turns away from the back of the ship to look down the length of it. Research or training- he should do one of the two. His head throbs and his bones ache. Research it is.

The route to his quarters is short; the ship is very small, and he walks briskly, but he still runs into one of the seamen. He does his best to ignore her. He doesn’t remember her name, anyways. He won’t need to. He’s not going to be on the ship long. He’s going to go home. As he makes his way up the staircase, his leg buckles and he’s forced to grab the railing, hissing a thousand curses unsuitable for a prince as he does. At the sudden lurch, his head spikes in pain. Zuko grits his teeth and pulls himself back up, looking around to make sure no one saw him.

Once he’s in his room, he resists the urge to lay down on his bed, and instead drags his chair over to his desk. Both are plain metal, devoid of personality. Leaning back in his chair, Zuko gives himself a split second to rest, before leaning forwards to grab a couple scrolls from his shelves. He’s going to start with the reports from the attacks on the Air Temples, and work his way forwards.

It’s five hours later, and Zuko feels sick. He’s spent his whole life reading Fire Nation reports, but these just leave a bad taste in his mouth. His history tutors would be disappointed in him. The Air Nomads were enemies of the Fire Nation. Officially, they had an army of their own, but the tale the scrolls tell is painfully different. They paint a story of senseless killing and uneven forces, and things he really doesn’t want to think about. But that’s because he’s needlessly emotional, and therefore weak. Everyone says so. The same thing happened at the war meeting don’t think about the war meeting don’t-

Zuko stands up. The full-body ache he’s been pointedly ignoring in favor of focusing on his scrolls suddenly comes back in full force, his headache all the worse for reading old scrolls by candlelight. Despite this, he needs some air.

Momentarily debating whether or not going back down to the deck is worth it, he decides to go up, to the helm platform. There’s less chance of being interrupted by the crew there, and he just wants to be alone for now.

The stairs are frustratingly difficult; his head is buzzing and his body won’t cooperate. He feels like he’s working through a thick layer of wool. At one point, he’s forced to stop and grab the railing and wait for the stairwell to stop spinning. He’s too weak. But he knows that already. For now, he just needs to clear his head.

After a frustratingly long time, Zuko slumps against the railing and closes his eyes. The wind whistles around him, tugging his hair back and pressing against his face. Slowly, he takes a deep breath and lets his shoulders untense. He’s not sure how long he spends like that, leaning over the railing, face tilted towards the sun.

Like this, he can almost forget where he is. At some time while he was reading in his room, the engineers got the engine working again, so the boat is moving along through the water at a brisk pace, and the smell of salt and the smooth sway of the boat are comforting yet unfamiliar.

Footsteps sound on the metal floor, and Zuko stands up abruptly, pretending like he wasn’t just on the verge of falling asleep. He exhales sharply and turns to see the helmsman approaching him slowly. The helmsman looks at him, an unclear expression on his face.

“Sir.” he says by way of a greeting. The helmsman walks up to the railing he’s on the left where he cant see he’s in his blind spot and leans on the guardrail to look out over the ship.

“It’s a lovely day, isn’t it.” he says after a long moment. Zuko looks over, unsure of what to say. “Great day for sailing,” he continues. “Nice breeze, clear water, and the sun is shining.”

Zuko stares at him for a second, before realizing he should say something. Stupid.

“Uh. Yeah?” Idiot! You’re his commander! Act like it! He stops himself from moving to get the helmsman on his good side. Don’t show weakness. He can see most of him; they’re both looking out over the railing, but he’s still partially relying on hearing his footsteps if he decides to move.

“What are you doing looking out here? Don’t you have a job to do?” Zuko asks, trying to maintain some semblance of respectability.

“The route’s been charted. There’s not any more I can do right now. It all depends on what weather we have, and that isn’t liable to change soon.” He explains absentmindedly, still looking out over the water. Zuko isn’t sure what to say. He should be doing his job, right? But he seems very myself assured that he’s already done it. Before he can question it too much, the helmsman asks something more.

“So what are you doing up here? People don’t usually come up here for no reason.” At that, Zuko tenses.

He snaps, “None of your business. You don’t have the authority to interrogate a commanding officer.” He lets go of the railing and turns back towards the bridge. Zuko’s halfway down the stairway when he stops to lean against the wall for a brief moment before forcing himself up again. What was he doing, talking to the helmsman like that. He has to stay indisputably in charge. Which means he can’t be talking to the crew like that.

He’s standing outside his room, debating whether he should continue reading or go to the mess hall for… it’d be lunch now. He already skipped breakfast, so he can put off lunch a few more hours. He steps into his room. As soon as he sits back into the chair at his desk, he slumps inside his armor and closes his eyes. Just for a moment. Just a second.

Zuko jolts awake when the ship creaks on a turn, already half in bending form before he realizes what’s going on. A split second later, the pain from sleeping in his armor sets in. A quick moment of orientation against the sun, and… it’s 19:15. Damn. He can’t even work without failing and wasting his time asleep.

He leans forwards against his desk. The sun is already going down, and he feels the last of his energy sapping away with it. He feels his eyelids drifting shut again, so raises his hand and bites into it. The pain makes him feel a little more awake, a little more aware. He wipes off his hand on his sleeve, and looks back over his scrolls.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he thinks. Is there anything else he has to order the crew for this evening? The engineers and seamen were made clear on the sailing hours, and dinner was served forty-five minutes ago, so there shouldn’t be anything else.

He should really check with the helmsman about how much longer they should be in Fire Nation waters, but he’s… afraid. The only person who ever talked to him like that was Uncle, and he’s… Uncle. And the helmsman isn’t.

He bites his hand again.

The pain helps.

Pain makes sense. The rest doesn’t. He bites the inside of his cheek and grabs another scroll. He can rest later. For now, he just needs to focus. He has so many scrolls to read, and the sun is almost all the way down.

He slept in his armor. Zuko doesn’t know when he fell asleep, but he’s sore and tired and his head is throbbing and painful and even under his layers he feels cold. Despite how stiff and uncomfortable he feels, he wants nothing more then to fall asleep again.

Dragging himself forwards and up and out of the chair, he groans as he feels his whole body scream with dull pain. He grits his teeth and checks the orientation of his cuirass. Satisfied, he checks that his leg harness hadn’t shifted. He tries a few light stretches to check that his armor is lined up right, but it only aggravates the pain, so he turns to the door.

He really, really doesn’t want to do this. But he has a meeting with the marines- he checks the sun against his internal fire- in barely eight minutes. He debates over whether or not he has the time to grab some food, and eventually decides that he can just get some afterwards.

Upon reaching the door after a number of stiff steps, he stops and leans against it. He has time to spare. The meeting is on deck, to the aft, and Zuko has already scoped it out. It won’t take long to reach from his quarters, and arriving early would be unbecoming of a high ranking officer. So he has to wait.

His eyes open. How long were they closed? He checks the sun. The meeting starts now. He stumbles back and pulls the door open. He stares down from the landing his door opens to, and dreads going down the stairs. It’s only a couple levels. How pitiful, a prince scared of some stairs. He’s breathing heavy before even starting down them, and he feels dizzy. Zuko bites the inside of his cheek and steps through the doorway.

Maybe halfway down the stairs, he’s leaning heavily against the metal wall of the stairwell even as his armor digs into his side. Breathing heavily, his whole body shifts with every breath. His head is a constant throb of intense pain; his eyes are squeezed shut to try to alleviate the pain behind them. Still, he refuses to be put down by nothing more than a staircase. So he pushes onwards. Slowly.

By the time he reaches the deck he’s about ready to cry, but whether it’s from relief or pain he isn’t quite sure. Zuko takes a long moment to compose himself and get his breathing under control before bracing himself against his headache and stepping out to where the marines have been waiting.

There are only five of them, the full time marines. There are more combat-ready crew members of course, the seamen are rated for secondary skirmishes as are the lieutenants and a couple of the engineers. But these are the people expected to fight.

While his disjointed thoughts chase themselves around inside his head, Zuko reaches the spot in the center in front of the line of marines, all of whom had been in casual stances before shifting to parade rest upon seeing him. He wasn’t that late, he wanted to complain. Speaking of, he tries to orient his inner flame against the sun, but all it does is make him dizzy.

He faces the marines squarely, forcing himself to ignore how one foot slipped as he turned, causing him to almost trip. If he ignores it, the marines will ignore it. Hopefully. His head feels full of wool and barbed wire, but weirdly floaty. He tries to start to speak, but coughs instead, which causes the spinning to get worse. He stumbles back to lean against the tower behind him, to keep him up propriety be damned and then 

he

    closes

             his

                   e y e s

The world fuzzes in around him. He’s not sure where he is. Last he remembers, he was on deck, and then- Zuko sits bolt upright, and immediately leans against the wall to clear his spinning head, throbbing with a sharp headache. This isn’t his room. The room is mildly cluttered, with built-in counters, cabinets, and a couple of other beds. It’s the medical bay, it has to be. That doesn’t explain how he got here. He can’t be here. He’s supposed to be- to be. He’s supposed to be in charge. He’s in charge now. This is his ship. Because he was banished. That’s right. But he fell. Because he’s weak. His head hurts, piercing pain shooting from behind his eyes to the back of his skull. The side of his face is still painfully raw. He feels too hot and too cold and he needs to be in charge because… he needs to.

Staggering out of the cot, Zuko represses a shiver as he steps barefoot onto the cold metal floor.  The room is out of focus, and he nearly falls down. Pushing himself up against the wall, he squeezes his eyes shut and tries to ignore the way he shakes. He’s too weak. He needs to do his job. Some part of him recognizes that he’s only in the clothes he wears under his armor, but the rest of him is focused on making it to the door. Holding onto the counter as he walks, he’s able to stagger over to the door. He wants to take a break, lean against the wall, but he can’t. He has to get back to. He has to work he has to look into the avatar he has so much he needs to research he can’t afford to stop.

The door is heavy. It creaks open gently, and Zuko is careful to step over the raised lip in the doorway. The hallway is long, and he can’t remember how to get back to his room from here. It can’t be too far. He starts to shuffle down the hall, one hand on the wall, when the ship lurches. He hits the floor hard, wincing as the door behind him slams into the wall with a loud bang that causes the painful pulsing in his head to explode. He’s not sure how long he spends there. It’s too long. Pushing himself up on trembling arms, he weakly glares at his hands, cold against colder metal. He’s too weak. He closes his eyes as bile rises in his throat. Trying to ignore it, he staggers to his feet slowly and unsteadily. Too slow. Too weak. His head is a throbbing mess of pain. He can’t feel his hands. He’s so cold. Three more steps and he’s on the ground again.

His shoulder is a dull ache, like it isn’t really there. The fog in his head is cut through by the piercing pain behind his eyes. The bandages on his face are too tight they chafe and it hurts and it’s too much and he needs to get up get UP he needs to get up but he can’t and it hurts. Weak. He’s? On the floor. Cold. Failure. Weak. He… deserves this. He’s a failure. He’s weak.

Yasu isn’t excited to be given babysitting duty. That’s basically all it is, right? Being sent to check on the young commander. Same thing, really. She knows teenagers. He’s probably still sleeping, and’ll yell at them first chance he’s given. She rounds the next corner and stops. The prince is on the opposite side of the hallway, in a heap on the ground, barely flinching as the list of the ship makes the conspicuously open door slam into the wall. This… doesn’t look good.

Walking over slowly, Yasu is running scenarios through her head. Why is he out here? Why is he on the floor? Jee had said a couple of the marines took him to the sick bay. She hadn’t questioned why. Maybe she should have- the closer she gets, the more she notices the pallor of his skin and the flush on his cheeks. Yasu pauses a couple feet away from him.

“Sir? Are you okay?”

At the sound of her voice, he flinches and tries to stand up. He opens his eyes, and the one she can see from around the bandage is glassy and hazy. She moves forwards, extending a hand to help him up, but he skitters back weakly, turning to hide his left side against the wall.

Looking at the small figure on the floor, she’s struck by how… young he looks. Thirteen years old. That’s how old the kid next door was when she left in the draft. Spirits raze it to the ground, he’s thirteen . He may be a prince, she supposes, but no kid should be here. But none of this solves the problem. He’s on the ground. He doesn’t want to be approached. Recalling what her parents did when she came down with a fever when she was young, Yasu steps forwards again.

The prince’s head snaps up, gaze foggy and panicked. Yasu scoops him up into a two-handed carry, and starts towards the sick bay. He feebly protests, pushing against her arms, but his feverish panic is helpless against her iron grip. After a couple of seconds, he stops fighting and goes limp. His breathing is still heavy and fast, and he hasn’t said a word. The only sound he’s made so far is the rasp of his heavy breathing that occasionally comes out as a pitiful whine.

It doesn’t take long to get back to the sick bay and lay him down on the cot. The second her hands are off him, he curls up to the side, eyes squeezed shut. But even as she watches, his face relaxes, and his breathing evens out. He’s asleep.

With that burden off her back, Yasu leans back against the counter and lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. The prince is way more of a handful than she expected. Honestly, she doesn’t know what she expected. Looking over at the slim figure on the cot, he doesn’t even look much like a prince.

She looks around the room for a second, before finding a metal stool and dragging it over (gritting her teeth at the sound) and settling in to watch the motionless form of her commander.

He sleeps fitfully, tossing and turning and reacting to every sound. It’s probably an hour later, but Yasu’s no firebender. At some point, she decided to grab him a cup of water for when he woke up. She was careful while grabbing it to not make loud sounds. Thankfully, there are cups in the first cabinet she checks, and a canister of water is labeled next to the edge of the counter. She makes two cups, and sets one on the small table next to the cot, and sets the other on the counter for herself.

Suddenly, he stirs in the bed. He visibly tenses up, and stops moving again. His eyes shoot open, and he pushes himself up in bed in a panic. Immediately, he leans forwards, coughing up a storm. He looks about to say something, but coughs again instead. Yasu stands up and moves forwards.

“You wanna drink? That cough doesn’t sound so good.” She picks up the cup of water on the table and holds it out to him. He stares at the offered cup like he’s never seen one before in his life. Hesitantly, he reaches out a shaking hand to grab it, and takes a slow sip, watching her over the rim of the cup the whole time.

He lowers the cup into his lap, and tilts his head, looking up at her.

“What-” his voice cracks in a painful sounding way, and he starts coughing again. “What’s? What’s going on? You’re?” He starts to fall to the side lethargically before pulling himself back up again.

Yasu grabs his hands as gently as possible and pulls the cup back up to his face. “Drink your water. You need rest.”

He lowers his cup and opens his mouth to say something, but before he can, Yasu lifts his cup again.

“Drink. You passed out. I’m not a medic, I can’t tell you what happened exactly, but Haruto’s busy. But for now, drink your water. ” The young prince had been staring at her tiredly, but as she raised her voice, he froze. He’s staring past her. And then, with a flinch, he blinks and refocuses on her.

She purses her lips and hopes he’s just out of it because of the fever. He’s taking another careful, slow sip of water, and she decides now isn’t a good time to keep pushing. Instead, she sits back down on the stool, and leans back against the counter. Hopefully he’ll pick up on her casual attitude. Hopefully. He’s a teenager, so probably not. But since when has the prince acted like the average teenager?

He brings the cup down from his mouth and into his lap, and stares blankly at it for a moment before looking back up to her, and staring past her with lidded eyes. She notices now how heavy his breathing is, how flushed his cheeks are. He may be acting better, but this is the same kid that collapsed twice in one day.

“So I was… here? And now I’m back…” he says, more of a question than a statement, in a cracking and raspy voice. Yasu stands up and takes a couple of steps to his bedside.

“Stop talking. Here, give me your water,” at that, she gently takes the cup from his loose grip, “And lie down. You need to rest. You’ve got a pretty bad fever right now and you need to sleep.” He shakes his head weakly.

“G. Gotta work… I gotta.” His voice starts to drain off as he slumps backwards. Yasu reaches out an arm to catch him, but he flinches away before making contact. A second later, he hesitantly and stiffly falls backwards onto her arm, and she lowers him to lie on the cot.

He turns his head to look towards her and blinks lethargically. Startling her, his slow movements are suddenly interrupted with hoarse coughing before he relaxes and his head rolls back onto the pillow.

“Go ahead and sleep, kiddo. You don’t hafta do anything.” She assures. “The ship can function for a couple hours without you.” The kid mutters something incomprehensible and turns to curl up on his right side.

Pretty soon, his breathing slows down as he visibly relaxes. He’s asleep. Carefully, Yasu stands up from where she’d been sitting painfully still while waiting for him to fall asleep. As she walks down the hallways of the ship to the mess hall,she thinks about what she has to tell Haruto. It’s… a lot. But Haruto should know what to do. They’re the one that trained for this. She fights off the intruding prediction that none of them trained for this. 

Haruto’s hurrying up the stairs to the medical bay, so fast they nearly trip over the ledge under the door to the room. The prince is lying on the cot, exactly where Yasu said he was. Exactly where Haruto left him, before he decided to go walking around with a fever of 40 degrees . But can they blame him? Based on what Yasu said, this doesn’t seem like general teenage stubbornness.

The slight figure curled up on the cot is pale and flushed, and when they gently brush their hand against his forehead, burning hot. Dangerously hot, even for a firebender. A split second after registering that, the prince stirs, one arm raising surprisingly quickly to slap their hand away. Weakly, yes, but quite the reaction from someone asleep.

Not asleep anymore, Haruto corrects themself. The prince’s visible eye slides open and after a second, focuses on Haruto. Being the subject of that inhuman golden gaze, glassy and feverish it may be, sends an involuntary ghost of a shudder down their spine. Meanwhile, the prince closes his eye and withdraws to the other side of the cot, away from them.

Haruto thinks about saying something, but instead turns and walks over to grab some things from the counter. A thermometer, the cup of water left by Yasu, and a bowl and cloth. They set the thermometer and cup on the bedside table, and turn back to fill the bowl with water from the canister.

As they turn the spigot and a thin stream of water starts to fill up the bowl, they hear a small noise, like the mewl of a newborn pygmy puma. Turning quickly, they see the prince, still on the cot, curled up even tighter, one hand in a tight fist and the other curled over the bandages on his face. They run over, nearly spilling the water, and set it down hastily on the table.

“Heyheyhey nonono don’t do that don’t pull on that” they say, reaching out and gently tugging on the hand that’s pressed against his bandages, “You need to not do that hey you’re okay it’s okay” they ramble as he flinches and tenses even closer, turning away from Haruto’s light grasp.

They let go, allowing the young prince to turn away completely. Then they sit back and purse their lips. None of this is right. They’ve heard the stories that raced through the capital within hours of the Agni Kai. He’s been banished, the rumours shout, burned and cast away by the Fire Lord . No one ever said anything against the Fire Lord. It was the right decision, the wise one. No one ever said anything out loud. But the Fire Lord can’t punish thoughts. And they all knew it was wrong.

He’s thirteen, hushed whispers remind, thirteen and abandoned to the sea. Haruto bites their lip. They may be at sea, but that only keeps enemies closer, on the same rattling metal dish in the middle of nowhere. Most of the sailors on board are here for ‘treason’ as the higher-ups call it. Haruto prefers the term ‘having morals’.

They take a deep breath and try again.

“You’re gonna be okay. I’m not gonna hurt you.” The kid’s head lifts and he stares over his shoulder suspiciously, yet his eye is unfocused and bleary.

“I promise,” they say softly, “You’re safe here. I’m not gonna hurt  you. I just need to take your temperature.” Haruto slowly reaches for the thermometer. Once they’ve grabbed it they stand back up, making an effort to not make any sudden movements. They have to walk to the other side of the cot since he turned over. They set their hand on the young prince’s forehead and bite their lip. He’s still burning up.

They bring their other hand with the thermometer forwards, and the kid buries his head in the thin pillow. No thermometer then. They back up and raise one hand to their chin. The engineer, Yasu got him to drink some water, so that’s good at least. They wonder if he’d be up for tea. Well, even a sip of tea is better than none. They step over to the counter and open a cabinet. Most of the containers are labeled, and thankfully the ones needed are already set up. Maoto will probably help, maybe feverfew? They don’t want to use up their supply though, since it has to be imported from the Earth Kingdom- except that they’re gonna be in the Earth Kingdom for the next… forever. They grab the tin of dried feverfew too.

The kettle takes a frustratingly long time to heat up (It’s times like this they wish they were a firebender), but eventually, a cup of bitter medicinal tea is brewed. As they walk back over to the cot, they watch the unmoving form of the young prince. He hasn’t moved since the last time they glanced over, and it seems he’s asleep. Haruto sets the cup on the bedside table and takes a deep breath before reaching out to gently shake the kid awake to drink the tea.

The next thing they realize, their wrist is grabbed and is dragging them completely off balance as the prince stares him down, breathing heavily. Haruto freezes- it’s hard not to, when pinned with that golden stare. The prince is sitting up, is their first cohesive thought. He’s up and he attacked. Defended himself they correct. They’re sure enough that they’d bet money on the fact that the prince only put them in an arm lock after they grabbed his shoulder.

“What,” the prince pauses for a breath, “are you...? Am I?”

“You’re still in the medical bay. You were asleep and I just needed to wake you up to get you to drink some tea.” As they watch, the energy drains from the prince as they speak. It takes next to no effort to slip loose of his grip and turn to face him again properly. He’s leaning forwards and blinking with heavy eyelids. Haruto steps forwards to reach out their left arm to support him from the back, carefully balancing the cup in their right.

“You need to drink some of this tea, okay?” Instead of answering, he starts coughing. Haruto sits there awkwardly, waiting for his coughing fit to cease.

“Here.” They pass over the cup to his shaking hands as soon as he’s stopped coughing. “Drink. It won’t taste great, but it’s good for you.” The kid raises the cup to his lips takes a small sip, and sets it back down in his lap. He blinks slowly at it, before looking back up to Haruto.

“That was.” he pauses.

“It’s okay. I know it tastes bad.” Haruto reassures.

“...Yeah.” his voice cracks as he continues, “that was gross.” Despite saying that, he takes another sip. Good kid. Once he’s rested the cup in his lap again, hands curled around the warm metal, Haruto speaks again.

“I want you to drink at least half of that before you go back to sleep. You’re on bed rest until that fever clears up.” at that, the kid snaps his head up.

“But I have to-” he coughs “I have to command the ship!” Despite his clear attempts to sound respectable, it comes out like a little kid whining. Even so, his dedication goes beyond admirable and into the territory of worrying .

“No, you don’t need to. First Lieutenant Jee can cover for you. For now, you need to rest.”

“But it’s! It’s my ship I need to command it otherwise I’m being irresop- irresponsible!”

“No. It isn’t irresponsible to rest. Forcing yourself to keep going will only make your fever worse.”

“That doesn’t. Doesn’t matter I have to.” His arguments are circular and concerning. He’s very clearly trying to force himself to stay awake and arguing. Haruto puts their hands on their hips.

“You will go back to sleep. Here, just take one more sip of the tea, that’ll be fine.” The little prince weakly glares at them, before his expression softens exhaustedly. Haruto lifts his hands still holding the cup to chest height.

“Just take another sip, okay?” The kid looks down at his hands and lets out a deep breath, then takes a drink of the tea. Once he’s done, Haruto takes the cup from his hands and walks it over to the bedside table.

By the time they look back over to the prince, he’s curled up on the cot, blanket tangled between his limbs as he breathes deeply, already asleep. Gently and ever so slowly, they untangle the blanket and lay it over the child almost imperceptibly trembling in the cot. With that done, they let out a soft sigh. What have they gotten themself into this time.

Chapter Text

The young prince sleeps lightly and fitfully. Nearly every sound, no matter how slight, causes him to flinch in his sleep. As a result, Haruto has been moving very slowly. Fevers are simple, except when they aren’t, so they’ve been checking their scrolls. As they unroll the scroll a little further, they see the prince stir out of the corner of their eye. A quick glance to the clock in the corner on the counter tells them that it’s just about noon. The prince had slept for a little over two and a half hours.

After setting down the scroll, they cautiously walk forwards and after reaching his bedside, pause. They don’t want another incident like the first time they tried waking up the prince. To put off that decision, Haruto grabs the cup of cold tea and sets it on the small coal burner the kettle had been on, and quickly starts it burning with some spark rocks.

Then, they look back to the slowly stirring kid in the cot. His visible eye flutters open and slides across the room before focusing on them.

“You’re still here.” He says in a voice full of wonder. His tone is unlike anything Haruto had heard him say before. It’s the sound of fragile hope. Haruto doesn’t know what to do with the sudden flow of emotions, from surprise at the tone, to happiness for hearing him awake, to concern about the implication that he didn’t expect him to still be there.

“Of course I am,” they say gently, at a loss for what else to say. “I’m your medic and you’re my patient. I’m here for you.” The kid blinks up at him, looking so innocent and lost. Their heart aches at his confusion.

Tearing their gaze away, they grab the warm-bordering-on-hot cup of reheated tea. When they turn back around, he’s staring at the small bank of coals with a difficult to read expression. He’s a firebender, yet with what Haruto knows is under the bandages- mixed thoughts sounds about right. Deciding to cut that off before it becomes a problem, they drop the shutter over the coals to smother them out.

A couple steps later, they’re offering a hand out to help him up in the cot. He pauses for a moment, before leaning forwards to get up. Haruto passes the cup to their left hand so they can use their right to support him on his back to help him sit up. When their arm makes contact with his back, he tenses for a split second before relaxing onto their arm and letting them push him up.

Once he’s up, Haruto hands him the cup of tea, careful to make sure he has a good grip on it before loosening their grip.

“Drink some. You need lots of fluids.” They don’t know what else to say. What is there to say. The kid stares at the cup before tentatively raising it to his lips and drinking slowly. After a long moment, he lowers the cup.

He takes a raspy breath in, coughs, and says “What time is it?” That’s odd. A firebender asking the time? They scratch that thought when they notice how the prince’s right hand is bunched up in the sheets, white-knuckling the fabric in his grip, and the way he’s angled his head down and to the side in shame. He’s sick, of course he can’t bend right. They grit their teeth and shove that original thought out of sight as they glance over at the clock.

“Eleven fifty eight, why?” He starts at the time and turns to get out of the cot. “Heyheyhey why are you doing that? You need to stay and rest!”

“I need to- to check in with the helmsman and finish the meeting with the marines!” he says, determinedly but tiredly. Haruto all but shoves him back down onto the cot.

“You don’t need to do anything but rest. Ichiro knows what he’s doing; he’ll be fine. And the marines don’t have anything they need to do, and they understand that you need your rest.” They’d better, Haruto thinks. The prince seems only slightly convinced.

Haruto sighs. “I don’t know what I can say to convince you that no one expects you to be on hand and working every hour of the day! You’re sick! And above all, you’re a kid!” Haruto immediately regrets saying that when he tenses. But they know they’re right.

“I-” the prince starts.

“No. I’m sorry, but I don’t care what you say to disagree with me. You are a child. You shouldn’t be in command. You’re thirteen . The minimum age for the draft is seventeen. You shouldn’t be here.” They realize what they’ve said just a moment too late when they look over at the kid, tears in his visible eye.

“Shit. I’m. So sorry I didn’t mean-” They cut themself off, aware that they might just be making it worse. The kid is still staring at them as a tear slips down his face. All of a sudden, he wipes at his cheek like he just remembered he has arms.

“I know I can’t- you’re apologizing? But I know I can’t I’m not good enough but I have to but you’re-” words spill out of him like a panicked geyser until he’s stopped by the sobs wracking his body while the tears pour faster. Haruto stands there helplessly, as their hands fall from the fists they hadn’t realized they’d formed.

They’re stepping forward before they can think twice about it. “I’m so, so, sorry I didn’t mean to get angry at you. I’m not mad with you.” They sit down on the cot as gently as they can manage. Even so, the sobbing kid’s head snaps up to look at them through the tears. “Are you okay?” they ask uselessly.

He inhales unsteadily and then, “I know I can’t rule the ship!” he nearly shouts in a soul-wrenching cry. “I know I can’t do it,” he says softer, but just as pained. “I know I’m a failure,” he says, at just about a whisper as he closes his eye

 Haruto can do nothing but stare at him. “You’re not a failure. Who says that? It’s not true.”

“E-everyone say-ays so,” he chokes out. His muffled crying breaks their heart.

“Look, they’re wrong. In the short time I’ve known you, you’ve proven to be hard working, thoughtful, and you know what? A good person. You’re a good person, Zuko.” They used his name. They used his name but he doesn’t seem to notice or care or something like that because he doesn’t react, instead looking up at them with an expression like a kicked pygmy-puma kitten.

Haruto reaches out a hand and lays it gently on his shoulder. The- Zuko flinches and then leans into their hand, so they scootch over on the cot to put their arm around his shoulders properly, and then they take the cup away and stretch to put it on the bedside table before wrapping their left hand around him as well. Zuko leans into them, crying quietly now, but still shaking with sobs muffled around where he’s pressed his face against Haruto’s chest.

Slowly, the crying stops as Zuko falls asleep. Haruto stays still the whole time, until he’s fully and completely sound asleep. Then, they carefully detach him and settle him in on the cot and pull up the covers.

Staring at his sleeping form, they sigh. They’ve been doing that a lot lately. Zuko’s a handful, and it’s only a couple days in. It seems like he’s gonna continue to be trouble, but it isn’t his fault. The way he’s been acting… Haruto doesn’t want to think about what that implies. They’re loathe to leave the prince alone, but they need to eat lunch. They can trade out with one of the marines at the mess hall. It doesn’t matter which one, just as long as they can watch him for a bit. 

Still, they pause in the doorway leading out of the medical bay and look back. He’s just where they left him, half curled on the cot with the sheet pulled up. There's something heartbreaking about the way he lies prone, so small and childish, like a dropped doll. He’s only thirteen. Barely a teenager. And he was banished. And burned . Branded. Rumors are flying, and no one seems to be quite sure why he was cast out, but nothing the kid could have done would be deserving of this . 

Haruto’s fists clench as they turn and start down the hallway. Forget the cause, focus on the now. They turn the corner into the mess hall and for a moment, are overwhelmed by the noise. The medical bay had been so quiet, and coming back to this place so full of life is jarring to say the least.

Making a beeline for the table the marines are clustered at, they notice them just before they reach the table.

“How’s he doing?” the Captain asks.

Haruto’s shoulders droop. “In all honesty? Not very well. His fever is still really bad, and when Yasu went to check on him, he had gotten out of bed and tried to get back to work but passed out in the hall.”

One of the marines swears, before saying, “Twice in one day? That can’t be good.” Haruto shakes their head.

“It’s really, really bad. All of that, plus the burn that’s still eating up his energy to heal- It’s a wonder he’s still trying to work.”

They turn back to Kana. “Captain, are any of the marines up for watching him while I grab lunch? He shouldn’t wake up for a bit, but just in case.” She turns to the table. 

“Yota. You’re done eating. Go watch the prince.” He stands up, salutes her, and heads off.

Haruto takes a deep breath. With that off their chest, they feel much better. Finally, they turn to the cafeteria to grab a tray full of food. However, before they can take more than two steps, a nearby conversation catches their ear. In hindsight they'd probably recognize the voice. But right now the words are all that matters.

“How come the prince isn’t working with the rest of us?" the voice sneers. It's the type of tone that belongs to someone fed up to the point of snapping. "He's probably just faking it to get off work."

Burned.

"Just another noble who’d never be caught dead working a day in his life."

Branded.

"Have you heard the news? The rumors?"

Thirteen.

Thirteen.

Thirteen.

"I hear he got burned for-” 

But he isn't the only person who's been drawn to the point of snapping. 

Haruto's body moves before their mind does. They have a fistful of his uniform, feet burning from the sprint and chest heaving for an entirely different reason. His eyes bear into theirs--two eyes, healthy eyes, eyes not shrouded with bandage--thirteen, thirteen, thirteen, thirteen--

“Shut your damn mouth,” they snarl. “I didn’t just spend hours tending to a sick child for hours for you to say he’s faking it. He has a fever of forty. He’s on strict bedrest because he passed out twice today trying to work. And above all else? This is a thirteen year old child who got half his face burned off by his father and I don’t know why, but he just spent half an hour sobbing into my chest so you know what? Fuck you.”

Haruto’s breathing heavily, and the seaman in front of them has an expression like he just got submerged in ice water. They let him drop to the floor and whirl around back to the cafeteria opening to grab some stew before they actually punch someone. Punching someone will change nothing, but it’s been building up all day. Someone needs to pay for what happened to the prince, and they’re entirely ready to take it to the Fire Lord. But for now. Stew. Overthrowing the government has waited this long, it can wait a little longer.

By the time Haruto finishes their stew, practically hurled the dishes into the sink, and stormed back to the med bay, they’re a bit cooler, and Zuko hasn’t woken up. They greet Yota, relieve him of prince-watching duty, and start cataloguing herbs. This time, he seems to be more deeply asleep since he doesn’t have any reaction to the jars of herbs clanking against each other as they sort them perhaps a bit too aggressively.

After finishing that, they check the clock. 2:47. It’s only then they realize they should take his temperature while he’s asleep. Not with the thermometer, but the old fashioned way. Gently, they set their hand on his forehead. Even expecting it, they’re taken aback by just how sweltering his skin is. Zuko leans into Haruto’s hand, eyelids fluttering.

“No. You stay asleep.” They get a mumble in response. Good enough. They set the abandoned cup of tea to the side and instead grab the half full bowl of water and the cloth. Soaking the cloth in the cool water then expertly wringing it out, they rest it on his forehead, off center to avoid the bandages over his left eye. Zuko lifts one hand to paw at the cloth sleepily before letting his arm fall back onto the cot with a muffled thump.

They’re just standing up again when they heard a tentative knock on the door. Momentarily worried that the sound would wake Zuko up, they’re relieved to see him barely stir. Reassured, they then open the door. Standing there is one of the crewmembers they vaguely remember seeing on the first day at boarding, talking with one of the men loading the ship, and also in the mess hall.

“Hey,” he greets awkwardly, wringing his hands. “I don’t know if you remember me but I’m Hinata. I just heard what you said in the mess hall about the prince and I wanted to check on him. On both of you, actually. You sounded pretty angry.” He pauses. “Not that you have a reason not to be!” he adds, waving his hands. “You’re completely right! That’s kinda why I wanted to check in on him?”

Haruto glances over their shoulder to where Zuko’s curled up asleep. “He’s not awake right now, but if you want to step in, you can.” At that, they head back to his bedside, leaving the door open. They busy themself rewetting the cloth and placing it back on his forehead while Hinata steps in.

“I’m not sure what you expect to gain from visiting him,” Haruto says after a moment of silence.

“To be honest, me neither,” Hinata admits, “but it kinda felt like the right thing to do. After all you said. I kinda hadn’t really realized it. Like I knew he’s thirteen but I didn’t really know it if you know what I mean?”

Haruto hums a noncommittal noise before saying, “I guess.” They grab the nearly empty cup of tea and bring it to the sink set in the counter while Hinata steps to the side out of their way. They rinse the cup and set it to the side. “He’s the youngest person I’ve ever treated. Do you want to know why?”

He looks startled for a second. “Sure?”

“Because I’m a military medic. I started training when I was 16. I practiced on other people in my class, but I've only ever treated people in the military. No exception. Zuko is the youngest person I've ever treated because everyone else has been seventeen and older. Seventeen. Zuko is four years below the legal age for military draft.”

Hinata looks even more startled at the use of Zuko’s name, but then settles into a thoughtful expression. “I never thought of it that way. That really kinda makes it sound different, doesn’t it.”

“Mhmm. And if it starts with this, with one thirteen year old sent to fight, what’s next? Will everyone’s thirteen year olds be sent on impossible missions for the military? Where do we draw the line?” They’re gripping the sides of the sink, white knuckled. “Does he have to die? Will they care if he dies? Or will it just be another ‘regrettable expense’?” Their face twists, and so does their stomach. “I’m sick of it. Kids shouldn’t face death because the adults can’t get their shit together and get over themselves. The war needs to end. It’s needed to end for a long time now. I don’t care why it started. Too many people have died, on our side and theirs.”

They glare into the empty sink for a moment longer, close their eyes, then look up and over at Hinata. “But that’s not our call to make. It’s all up to the Fire Lord. And spirits know he doesn’t care enough to listen to anyone, let alone people like us.”

Hinata eyes them carefully. “You do realize, what you’re saying… You could be reported for treason.”

“Reported by who? Reported to who? I’ve been reported already. That’s why I’m on this ship. And don’t tell me you haven’t thought some of that yourself.”

Hinata looks down, purses his lips. “... yeah,” he admits. “It’s so… frustrating. But that’s kinda just the lot we drew. We can’t do anything.” He looks up. “We can’t do anything! And the world’s turning to ash around us!” A long moment, and then a sharp exhale. “Well, there’s something we can do. And that’s to look after the prince. He’s our only hope.”

Haruto whirls around. “No. I will not have you place everything on one child. It’s true, he can make a difference, but so can you. Live. Learn. And aid him as you would any lost child. We’re in this together.” They draw a deep breath. “I’m sorry. But I don’t regret saying it.”

“No, you’re right. You’re right. It’s unfair to pin everything on him.” Hinata rakes one hand through his hair. “It just feels like there’s nothing we can do.”

“Yeah,” Haruto agrees. “It’s… yeah. For now, at least, we’re stuck on this rattle-trap in the middle of the ocean, so direct action’s gonna be a little difficult. But we can help the prince. You were right about that.” They start back over to Zuko’s bedside to replace the cloth, when Hinata reaches out and grabs their shoulder and gives it a squeeze.

“We’re in this together. Don’t forget. You can always call on me if you need help. Give the prince my best when he wakes up.” He lets go and steps out the door, closing it gently behind him. Haruto takes the cloth, slides it into the water, wrings it out, and back onto Zuko’s forehead it goes. Maybe they can get some more cataloguing done to the side while they tend to him.

About forty five minutes later, there’s another knock at the door. Haruto looks up from their mortar and lets go of the pestle and hurries to the door. Standing in front of them is Yasu, who had been sent to check on the prince earlier, they remember.

“Hey, I’m here to check on the prince. He wasn’t doin so well when I checked on him, and with what you said in mess- I’m worried bout him, plain and simple.” She looks at him with the kind of expression that suggests she’s coming in whether they let her or not. Wisely, they step to the side, and she enters the medical bay.

“He’s not awake, so you can just sit to the side. There’s an extra stool by the other cot there. Just stay out of my way and you’re clear to stay here.” They step back to the counter as Yasu makes her way to the other side of the medical bay. Haruto grinds the black cardamom thoughtfully for a bit before walking over to replace the cloth on Zuko’s forehead. He’s still feverish, but with luck he’s improving.

“I can take that over for you.”

They’re so lost in thought that Yasu speaking startles them. “Huh? Oh. Sure. Just make sure you wring out most of the water.” Yasu stands and picks up the stool, setting it at his bedside. With one less thing to focus on, they turn back to grinding cardamom.

They settle into a rhythm like that, Yasu soaking and replacing the cloth, Haruto grinding herbs and pouring them into empty jars and sorting them into the cabinets above, neither speaking. Until Zuko opens his eyes.

“...You? Ag’n?” he mumbles out in a scratchy voice.

“Hey kiddo. Yeah, It’s me again. You okay there?” Zuko stares at her with lidded eyes for a long moment before turning his head to look at Haruto.

“You too?” He tries to push himself up into a sitting position, but fails until he reluctantly lets Yasu help him up.

“How are you feeling, Zuko?” They ignore how Yasu’s head snaps over to look at them and focuses on Zuko.

“Oh yeah… you used it earlier when I was… emotional.” He says that last word like it’s poison, clenching his hands into fists that dig his nails into his palms.

“It’s okay,” Haruto placates. “If you don’t want me to, I won’t use your name. I shouldn’t have assumed.” They’re choosing to focus on that part of what he said, not what his actions and word choice imply. They really don’t want to focus on that part of what he said.

“No it’s. It’s fine.” He responds with words short and curt. If they didn’t know better, they’d think he was perfectly fine, just being a surly teenager. They wish it was just him being a surly teenager. That’d be so much easier.

“Alright then. Zuko, did you eat breakfast?”

“What?” He looks up at Haruto, surprised. “Why are you asking?”

“I need to know before I ask the cook to make soup. If you haven’t, you have to eat more to make up for it.”

“I haven’t. Eaten since dinner the day before yesterday. But it’s fine!  I’m used to going without meals! You don’t have to worry about me! Just let me up so I can work!” He didn’t just say that. Haruto’s trying so, so hard to think of what he might have said instead, but. 

“You what. You didn’t eat all of yesterday?” they say sharply, instead of the hundreds of other words floating in their head. Zuko flinches back and gives a small nod.

“That’s done it. You’re getting a big bowl of soup, right now.” They turn to Yasu, who’s still staring at the prince. “Can you go to the cook and ask for some soup, or if he can’t do that, some of the stew?” She nods and gets up. On her way out, she sets her hand on Zuko’s shoulder and says,

“Do what Haruto says. They know what they’re doing, okay? I’ll be right back.” And with that, she’s out the door before he can respond. Haruto looks at Zuko.

“You need to eat more. Depriving yourself of food will only make the fever worse,” they say, gentle as possible. “But besides that, How often have you been changing your bandages?” At that, he self consciously raises a hand to fiddle with the pad of gauze over his eye.

“... Not since the palace healers did, day before yesterday.”

“Look, you need to take better care of yourself. You should be changing those once or twice a day. I can do it for you if you’d like.”

“No! I mean. I have to. And you shouldn’t have to look at it.”

“The scar? Believe me, I’m a military medic. I’ve seen worse. I’ll be okay. Let me get some fresh bandages.” They turn around and open the rightmost cabinet and pull out a fresh pad of gauze and a length of linen bandages. Walking back to the bed, they set them on the table and turn to Zuko.

“Do you want to take off your current bandages, or should I?” He mumbles his answer, but before Haruto can ask what he said, he repeats it louder.

“I can do it.” He reaches up and starts undoing where it’s wrapped over in the back with his right hand, while holding the gauze in place with his left. It takes him a long moment, but when he lowers his left hand with the gauze and looks up, Haruto gets their first look at the scar. They were wrong. It looks so, so bad and wrong, mainly because of just who it’s on. They’re used to seeing blistering, infected burns on adults, but not on children. Never on children.

It’s such an even burn, too. No sign of trying to dodge out of the way. The whole wound is leaking fluid and the gauze is soaked in it. Layers and layers of skin are burnt away and are only starting to grow back, and it forms a patchy mess over his face. His eye is swollen almost completely shut, only a sliver of gold and white showing through.

They only realize they’re staring when Zuko angles his head even further away and down. “Well,” they say, realizing suddenly just how quiet it is, “that is a nasty wound, but it will heal. It’s probably best for now to not put a paste on it in case it irritates it more. So for right now we’re just going to put new bandages on.”

Zuko looks up. Pauses. “Can you show me how to put them on?” he asks tentatively.

“Of course!” They force themself to sound cheery. They’re not sure they’re succeeding. “First, you need to hold the gauze to your face like you did earlier when taking it off.” They hand him the pad of gauze and help him position it right, carefully placing it as gently as possible.

They guide him through the rest of tying the gauze on with the bandages, and then give him a gentle pat on the shoulder. “And there you go. That’s all you have to do. If you don’t have someone else around to help you orient the gauze right, I recommend using a mirror.”

Zuko rubs his hands over the bandages. “...Thank you. I-” 

The door swings open and in comes Yasu. “I got soup!” she announces happily. “Yutaka made enough for all three of us, and Hinata cleared him to use some of the supply of bread, so we get bread and soup!” She’s carrying a tray with three bowls of soup and a small loaf of bread, divided in three. First, she hands a bowl to Haruto, who grabs it before looking back up at her, but she’s too busy handing the next bowl out to Zuko to notice. Zuko takes it from her and stares at it. Finally, Yasu sets the tray and bread down on the bedside table and grabs her own bowl. The spoons are passed out a second later.

“Be sure to eat. The two of us will make sure you do,” she reminds him, already blowing on a spoonful of steaming soup.

Haruto looks back to Zuko. He’s gone from staring at the bowl to staring at the spoon in his hand. “Eat,” they order. “You’ll feel better.” He glances over at them before drinking a spoonful. Yasu looks over at Haruto.

“You need to eat too!”

“I just ate lunch!”

Chapter Text

Another knock sounds on the door. Haruto looks up from their nearly finished bowl of soup and over to the door.

“Who’s that?” Yasu asks.

“Not sure.” They put their bowl on the table before leaving to open the door. Standing there is the armorer, someone they only recognize because of his stature. He cuts quite the impressive figure, at least 180 centimeters and broad.

“What’re you doing here?” Haruto asks, perhaps a bit too confrontationally.

“Just wanted ta check in on the prince,” he says in a heavy colonial accent. “Heard ‘e wusn’t doin well. Had ta finish hammerin out Ken’s cuirasse first, spirits know how ‘e dented it already, but I’m here now ta see ‘im.”

Haruto blinks at him. Another well-wisher. They think back to the mess hall incident; perhaps not so surprising, then. They glance over their shoulder to Zuko. He’s idly stirring his bowl of soup, but it he isn’t listening to every word they say, they’ll eat their whole supply of comfrey, raw. 

They turn back to the armorer. “Come on in. You aren’t the first to stop by.” Haruto steps out of the way to let him in, closing the door afterwards. Zuko’s head snaps up and he reaches to set his bowl aside, but Yasu’s stern look stops him.

“I don’t care if you have a visitor. Finish your soup.” 

He stares at her and maintains eye contact, even as he sips at his soup. Then he turns his head toward their new arrival.

There’s an immediate change in his posture, from slouched and relaxed to holding his head high with tight, pulled-back shoulders. This is him in ‘prince and commander of the ship’ mode. Zuko glances to his uniform for identification and addresses him.

“Armorer, what brings you here?” he asks, almost completely concealing the wobble in his voice.

“Jus checkin’ on ya. Ah heard ya wernt doin so well, then with whut they yelled en mess- thot ah’d pay ya a visit.” 

Zuko cocks his head almost imperceptibly and looks at Haruto.“You yelled something?” he asks. 

Yasu’s failing to smother a snicker in the background. “Boy did they yell something-” She starts.

“It doesn’t matter!” they say abruptly, cutting her off. “Zuko-” they ignore the armorer’s head whipping over to look at them, “he’s not the first one. The steward, Hinata stopped by earlier, but you were asleep.” 

Zuko doesn’t look sure what to do with this information. “So is there anything you wanted to say, or?” he says uncertainly, trailing off at the end.

“Nah, naht really,” the armorer says, equally awkward. “Yah’ve gotta be bored here though.” He pulls out a tin of playing cards from one of the pouches at the back of his toolbelt. “Do ya know howta play poker?”

A short explanation later, cots and stools have been pulled into a circle around the bedside table, and Zuko’s laying down his cards. “Straight flush!” He yells, with more energy than he’s shown all day. Everyone else groans as he grabs the miniature weights they stole from Haruto’s scale to use as betting chips. He adds them to his pile, which is a good deal larger than the rest of theirs combined.

“How’d you know I was bluffing?” Yasu asks, taking everyone’s cards and shuffling again.

“It’s in the way you look from the cards to us it’s like- I don’t know. You almost had me,” he says unhelpfully. The armorer, who’s name they’d learned was Go, leaned back.

“Ah nevar thot yah’d wipe th floor with ahs just ahfter learnin to play. Thah other round too- ya saw through ma bluff. Yah’ve got a knack for it.”

Zuko looks down at his hands. He starts to say something before there’s a knock at the door again.

“I’ll get it,” Haruto says, standing and maneuvering carefully around the stools they pushed together. When they open the door, it’s Yota this time.

“Hey,” he says, waving awkwardly. “Is the prince up yet? I wanted to check on him since he was still asleep when I checked on him, and Takeshi told me what you said in the mess hall, so. Here I am?”

“Will someone tell me what Haruto said in the mess hall?!” Zuko hollers from inside the room.

“He’s up,” Haruto says unnecessarily. Yota ignores him.

“May I come in?” he asks.

“Sure. Do you know how to play poker?”

“What?” Yota looks at them, confused.

“Do you know how to play poker. We’re playing poker,” Haruto explains.

“Only no-limit hold’em.” 

“Great, that’s what we’re playing. Sit down and we’ll deal you in.”

Haruto pulls their stool aside to welcome Yota into the circle, and they take their seat again as Yota gets situated on the empty space on the cot beside Go. Yasu passes him a couple cards and a warning.

“Don’t bother bluffing. It won’t work on the prince.” 

Yota looks over and his eyes widen at the sight of the small pile of makeshift chips next to Zuko. “Wait. I need some chips too,” he says after a moment. “Are there any more of… whatever you’re using?”

“My measuring weights,” Haruto says, trying to sound grumpy.

Yasu grins. “We all know you can’t be mad at us.” She elbows them and adds in a stage whisper, “Especially not the prince.” They elbow her back and just catch Zuko glancing at them in confusion. He turns away quickly and holds out a handful of weights to Yota.

“You can have some of mine.” He coughs into the crook of his other arm as Yota takes the weights from him.

“Do you want more tea?” Haruto offers.

Zuko pauses. “Uh. No thanks.”

Yasu chuckles. “You’re getting tea whether you like it or not.” Haruto, already getting out of their chair to set the kettle on the heater, glares lightheartedly at her. Go laughs a deep chuckle that’s becoming quite familiar.

“I’m gonna start dealing now, okay?” Yasu says, passing a pair of cards to Yota. When she gets to Haruto, she just sets them on the stool. Meanwhile, they’re refilling the kettle at the canister in the corner.

“Since I’m making it, do any of you want tea?” they ask. 

Yasu pauses after handing Zuko his cards. “Sure! Just not whatever spirit-damned blend you’re giving the kid.”

“Of course not. I have some sencha.”

“I’d like some too, if you don’t mind,” Yota adds hesitantly.

“Of course.” Haruto pulls down four cups. “Go? Do you want some?”

“Ah’l pass fur now,” he says, checking his cards. “It’s yah’re turn ta bet first.” They set the kettle on the heater and snatch their cards off their stool. They hum and set a few weights on the table, all without sitting down. Then they set their cards back on the stool and walk back over to the counter to pull down the tin of sencha and a teapot.

In the background, they hear Zuko, then Go, followed by Yota and finally Yasu place their bets. “Be back in a second!” Haruto shouts over their shoulder as they scoop the tea into the teapot. Leaving the kettle to heat up, they slide back into their seat. A beat passes as they look at the cards Yasu just placed down. “That’s the flop? Damn.”

They have a two of earth and a four of fire, but the flop is a lady of water, a ten of fire, and a nine of air. They look from the cards in their hand to the cards on the table one more time. “I’ll fold.”

As they stand up again they hear Zuko call, “I’m going to raise Yasu by five,” as he places another couple of weights on the table. Everyone else groans.

“Another good hand?” Yasu says incredulously.

“By five ?” Yota whispers, panicked, as he checks his handful of weights. “I only have six…”

“Guess you’ll die,” Yasu puts in quickly.

Yota groans. “And here I thought I had a chance .”

Zuko turns to him. “You have a chance. I just have a better one.” Yota throws his head into his hands.

Haruto smiles to themself. It’s good to hear Zuko chatting with the crew. There are still times where he freezes up, like he’s remembering he’s technically their commander. He’s also still sick, and while he’s doing a wonderful job pretending not to be, he’s definitely not at his best. Zuko’s behavior is concerning, to say the least. They’re not quite sure what to make of it, but the conclusions they’re drawing… aren’t good. But they haven’t known him for long. They’re hoping it’s just because he’s sick.

During their musing, they’re absently listening to the bickering in the background. They’re jolted out of their reverie when Zuko yells.

“Full house! I win again!” 

Everyone around the table groans.

“Wait- how is that a full house?” Yota asks. “You have a nine, so there’s two of that and- oh the river is another lady so there’s three of that. Wait, how did you know to bet so high? A lady and a nine isn’t a good hand, and with the flop that’s just a pair.”

Zuko shrugs. “I guessed. Plus, it meant that Haruto, Go, and you folded. I was only against Yasu in the end because all of you thought I was going to win.” 

Yota looks at him incredulously. “You guessed ?” 

Haruto turns back away from the chaos that explodes after that and pours the hot water into the teapot full of sencha. Suddenly, another knock sounds on the door. They heave a deep breath.

“I’ve got it.” They take a step over from where they are at the counter to open the door. Standing in front of them is a young man wearing a hawker’s uniform, sans the glove. He waves and smiles awkwardly.

“Hey,” he greets. “I wanted to-”

“Check on the prince?” Haruto guesses.

“How did you know?” They gesture into the room where Yota is gathering and shuffling the cards as the others laugh at something someone must have said. Zuko’s only smiling, but that’s more than enough. They look back at the hawker.

“Do you want to join? We’re playing poker.” 

The hawker seems taken aback for a second before replying. “Sure?” He moves to step in, and Haruto cedes to the side to let him. Zuko’s the first to notice him, looking up at his first step into the room. The others take a little longer to notice the newcomer.

“Hey!” Yasu greets enthusiastically. “We’re losing to the prince at poker! Wanna join?” Go chuckles at that. The hawker blinks. Zuko looks embarrassed.

Haruto closes their eyes for a second. “You can sit wherever you can find space. Yota, deal him in.” 

The hawker purses his lips as he looks around the table. Yota looks up apologetically as he passes him his cards. Finally, he turns to Zuko. “Is it okay if I sit on your cot?” he asks.

“Yeah okay.” Zuko says, preoccupied with checking his cards. Still, he pulls his legs up close to leave most of the cot free for the hawker to sit down.

“So,” the hawker says, taking the cards offered to him. “Poker?”

“It was Go’s idea,” Haruto says as they sit back down and glance at their cards.

Go waves and says, “Ah came to visit tha prince, and ah thought he might be gettin bored all holed up in tha sick bay.”

Haruto nods. “And they stole my weights as betting chips.”

The hawker smiles and holds out his hand. “I don’t think I’ve introduced myself. My name’s Shin.”

Several games later, they switch to blackjack (which Shin is good at, but Zuko is better), then BS, where Zuko is inhumanly good at calling them on. Finally, Shin is gathering the last of their hands from each of them as Haruto says,

“If someone else knocks at the door I am going to personally tear their larynx out. This was great, but if Zuko beats me at card games one more time, I am actually going to go feral.” 

Yasu, Go, and Shin laugh. Zuko’s leaning tiredly against the wall the head of the cot is pushed up against and turns to blink sleepily at them.

“Alright I think that’s enough,” Haruto says, sitting up straight. “Zuko needs to sleep. He’s still sick. It’s been nice having you all here though.”

Zuko looks over at them but doesn’t say anything. The others file out, wishing the prince well, and it’s just Haruto and Zuko in the medical bay.

“Okay, you’re getting some sleep.” Haruto says, setting the spare stool out of the way against the wall. They take a moment to push the empty cot back where it belongs before continuing. “It’s--” they check the clock, “--six o’clock, and you need your rest.”

Zuko sits up. “But I still need to work! It’s only six!”

“No. You’re exhausted. You’re sick and you need your sleep,” they say firmly. “You’re going to get some rest.” Zuko tries to glare at them, but it ends up looking weak and pitiful. “Sleep. You really need to. If you don’t go to sleep now, I’m going to make you drink another cup of tea.” Zuko continues glaring at them, bites his lip, and turns to lie down.

Haruto heaves a deep breath before pivoting away from the cot and almost misses Zuko sneaking a peek over his shoulder to stare at them. They debate whether or not to let on that they’ve noticed, but decide in the end to pretend they didn’t see it.

They go about putting away the tin of sencha and the kettle, emptying the last of the water back into the canister. By the time they look back at Zuko after wiping down the counter, he seems to be asleep. Haruto smiles to themself. He came a long way today. At the beginning of the games, he’d been surly and snarly. But by the end, he was participating, and maybe not joking , but participating in his own way. And once, just once, when he thought no one was looking, he smiled. A soft, sweet, hidden smile. Not the kind of smile they expected to see on a thirteen year old, but the kind seen on a soldier. Someone used to the worst of the world, caught off guard by the good.

That really is what he is, they think. A world-weary, beaten down man in the body of a child. No thirteen year old should have gone through what he had. Spirits, but the scar is the least of it. The way he cringes and flinches at raised voices and sudden movements- it speaks of far more than an isolated incident.

They slam their fist down on the counter. Gently, they remember at the last second. Zuko’s asleep and they don’t want to wake him. But Haruto wants nothing more then to scream and yell and cry because what kind of fucked up world is this, where someone like him is hailed a hero?

They take a deep breath. Then another. And another. Rage won’t solve this. So focus on what will. Part of them yells there’s nothing you can do , but they do their best to ignore it. The prince is here, and here is safe. At least for now. They open their eyes and look over at Zuko. Spirits, they beg, a moment’s rest for a sick prince?

Haruto wakes up in the middle of the night. They blink blearily at the ceiling in the darkness of their room. All they can hear is the steady breathing of the officer they share the room with, and the ship is tilting gently with the waves. No reason for them to wake up. Nonetheless, they feel a pit of dread coalescing in their gut. They close their eyes for a moment before groaning and pushing back the covers.

Cold is their first impression of the middle of the night on a ship at sea. Even though there’s no wind, the air cuts through their thin sleeping clothes. They turn and stand up and immediately want to lie back down as the cold metal floor sends a chill through their body. They walk towards the door hesitantly as the sinking feeling only grows. Still not quite sure why they’re out of bed, they open the door slowly, so as to keep from creaking and waking their roommate.

Followed by cold air and dread, Haruto walks to the medical bay. Last they left Zuko in the evening, he was sleeping soundly, but that’s no promise he’s still doing well. Part of them wonders what time it is. Another part doesn’t care and just wants to be asleep in their futon. Haruto yawns and turns the last corner.

The door to the medical bay gets pushed open as gently as possible. Stepping into the room and closing the door, Haruto turns to look at Zuko. He’s scrunched up on the cot, sheet tangled around his limbs. He seems okay, so they let out a breath they hadn’t realized they were holding and step closer to take his temperature ( carefully , they’d learned from last time they tried).

As they step over to where he’s asleep they notice first the way he’s trembling. From cold, is their initial assumption, but then they notice the sound. He cringes inwards and whimpers. A nightmare. They take a deep breath. They should have expected this. However, they are in no way prepared to deal with this. Haruto grits their teeth for a second before relaxing. They’ll have to do.

They try to clear their sleep-hazed mind and think . As much as they want to wake Zuko up immediately, get him out of whatever mental hellscape he’s trapped in, they shouldn’t do that when they aren’t prepared to help. But there’s not much they can do.

First, they retrieve a cup of water and set it on the bedside table for when he wakes up. Then, tentatively, they gently, ever so gently, shake his shoulder. Zuko’s eyes shoot open at the same time as he lets out a strangled yell. He launches himself up into a sitting position, panting and sweat-drenched. Haruto stands there, watching uncertainly.

“Are you okay?” they venture. Zuko looks up at them. Draws back, shoulders hunched and head down. He’s shaking and breathing heavy, but he doesn’t say anything. They try again. “Are you doing alright?” Still no response, although from stubborness or something else, it’s not clear. They slowly stand up and sit down on the end of the cot. Zuko peers up at them silently, and pauses. They fiddle with the hem of their shirt and shiver. Glancing over to Zuko, Haruto notices that as his breathing steadies out, trembling takes over.

They reach around for Zuko's blanket, pretend not to notice the way he flinches, and drape it around his shoulders. He stares at them, then hesitantly reaches up with both hands to pull it down closer. He takes a shaky breath, like he’s about to speak, but he never says anything, and his hands squeeze fistfuls the blanket and hike it around his shoulders.

“It’s okay if the answer is no. But I need to know if you’re okay.” 

Zuko squeezes his eye shut and hesitates before his fists loosens and he looks down, and shakes his head in a tiny motion, like he’s ashamed to admit it.

“Alright,” Haruto says, strangling the urge to give the kid a big hug that he almost certainly wouldn’t appreciate. “That’s okay. It’s okay.” They don’t know what they’re saying, they were never trained for this. But other than the ghost shift up on deck, they’re the only one available to help. In addition, they reason, what makes anyone else on this ship any more trained for this?

“Just… let me know if you need anything. Oh! I got you a cup of water.” Standing, they bite their lip as they shuffle over to the table on the other side of the bed. They return to Zuko's side with the cup in hand.Haruto sits down again and holds out the cup. 

"Here," Haruto says when Zuko doesn't respond right away. They hold out the cup patiently. "Drink this." 

It gets a reaction from him, head lifting and eyes meeting theirs before moving down toward the water. Shakily, he repositions his hold on the blanket, grasping both corners with the same hand and leaving the other hand free. He reaches out to take the cup, and is trembling so violently that they don't let go until they're sure he won't drop it. Haruto sits back as he takes a long, shallow sip before resting the cup in his lap.

They both sit there for a long moment, feeling the gentle sway of the ship and the quiet creaks from the hull. Finally, Zuko takes a long shuddering breath, closes his eye and lets his head drop forward into to his chest. Belatedly, Haruto realizes he’s crying. Not a lot; just barely visible. They stop themself with one hand already starting to reach out.

“Are you okay?” they repeat. Again, Zuko doesn’t answer. But he lets out a stifled sob, and that’s enough for them. “C’mere,” Haruto says as they scootch over on the cot, gently taking the cup from him and setting it on the floor. Then, they pull him into a hug similar to the one from yesterday. He tenses at first, but then relaxes into their grip. He’s still crying, but his breathing has steadied, which Haruto is going to count as a win.

“It’s okay,” they reassure. “You’re doing so well. You’re going to be over this fever soon, and we can all help you run the ship. I’ve met the lieutenants, and they know what they’re doing. Except maybe Third Lieutenant Daiki- I’m not sure why he’s on this ship if I’m being honest, but Second Lieutenant Aki is good at her job, and the first lieutenant- Jee I think it is? He’s got loads of experience.” At this point they’re just rambling, trying to distract Zuko from whatever his nightmare was. “So don’t worry about running the ship. We can handle that. For now, you just need to rest.”

Zuko curls under their grip but otherwise doesn’t react. His breathing goes raspy and he coughs into Haruto’s shirt. They try not to think about how gross that is, and focus on something else. They pat him on the back through the hug with one arm, gentle as possible. Zuko relaxes exhaustedly into their arms, breathing steadily. The tremors are still there, but fading slowly as he seems to almost be drifting back off to sleep.

They try to extricate themself from the hug to lay Zuko down, but the moment they start to move, he stirs, so they pause and settle back into the hug. Resolving to themself that this may in fact be their life now, they adjust their grip around his back. Haruto relaxes into the intermittent sounds of the boat and the rhythmic sound of his breathing as he goes limp in their arms and falls asleep.

Finally, they gently lay Zuko down. He barely reacts, evidently exhausted. Haruto smiles to themself sadly as they pull up the sheet over the sleeping prince. He shouldn’t have to deal with nightmares on top of everything else. It might make sense, but it sure as hell isn’t fair.

They set their face in their hands. All that excitement aside, it’s still- they lift their head and check the clock- about three o’clock in the morning. They debate going back to their room, but it’s halfway across the boat, and they really don’t want to be too far away from Zuko just in case he wakes up again. Resigning themself to it, they pull down a sheet from one of the cabinets and set it on the other cot. They consider the chill of the night and take down a couple light blankets. They drape one over Zuko’s cot, and one over their own, before climbing under the covers.

The shuttered light they left on in the room isn’t enough to keep them up, and very quickly they fall asleep again.

Chapter Text

Haruto stares at the ceiling of the medical bay. Rubbing their eyes, they push themself up. Pausing to yawn, they look around. The clock on the corner of the counter reads 8:23.

They turn to look to their right. Zuko’s still asleep on the other cot, not stirring at all. They feel relief wash over them as they remember slowly just what happened last night. He’s okay now, he didn’t wake up again.

Sliding out of bed, they think about the events of the early morning. Haruto grabs the kettle off the counter and brings it to the water canister to fill it up before setting it on the heater. They fiddle with the sparkrocks and light a small smoldering fire in the coals before taking down a teapot and two cups. Then they dig around behind the sencha for the oolong tea they got imported from the southern Earth Kingdom. They don’t have as much; it’s expensive to import- but it’s worth it in the mornings for a little more caffeine.

As they measure out the tea into the teapot, they hear Zuko stir in the cot behind them. Haruto glances over their shoulder, but they can’t tell if he’s woken up or not. Either way, they don’t want to bother him, so they stay quiet.

They zone out as the water heats, still tired. They’d been up late last night reading scroll after scroll on burns, burn treatments, and other more delicate things. Mental things. That, combined with… everything that happened early in the morning, Haruto’s left wanting to fall asleep where they stand, yet also never let Zuko out of their sight. Tricky.

Yawning, they turn to check on Zuko. Still asleep. Back to the counter, they decant the water into the teapot and start it steeping. There are still scrolls on the counter, so they grab those and tote them to the back storage room and slide them into their slots in the shelf on the right wall. By the time they finish, they’re pretty sure the tea is done steeping, so Haruto pours themself a cup.

They blow on the surface of the tea, trying to cool it down enough to be drinkable, as they let their mind wander. The whole ship has been sent on a fool’s errand, directed by the prince. What are they going to do? Actually search for the avatar? They’ve been dead nearly a hundred years, so there’s no way that’s going to pan out.

Haruto takes a sip of their tea and wonders what Zuko’s plan is. It’s harsh to put the stress of their voyage on a kid, but he’s the one in command. They try not to think about the inevitability of running out of money and supplies. Without the supply trains bringing them everything from coal to food, they’re going to run out sooner or later, unless someone has a secret source of income large enough to support a whole ship.

The most likely end to this whole deal is the ship running out of supplies and the crew scattering to the winds, trying to make a new life outside the Fire Nation. But… they think about last night’s card games and the feeling of camaraderie. They don’t want to give this up. It’s only been a couple days, but this is already better than the last post they held, better by a long shot.

But most importantly, what would become of Zuko? Something tells them he wouldn’t take well to suddenly having to start a new life in the Earth Kingdom. He’s awkward and overly formal and doesn’t know how to relax, but above all else, he’s used to a form of order. Courts have ranks and functions and precise words; the military is much the same with rank and position, everyone knows who they are and what to do. Common life is nothing like that. He’d tear himself apart just trying to make sense of it.

So what then? What’s the alternative? Haruto purses their lips and tightens their hand around their cup. They need an income source, first and foremost. But who’s willing to pay a bunch of Fire Nation traitors? And what would they do? The ship is old and beaten and nowhere near in its prime- there’s always going to be a better ship for the job. Also, they are still exiled. Tough.

Haruto takes a deep breath. They can’t solve any of these problems by worrying. That won’t stop them from being anxious, but hopefully they can work through it. Worst comes to worst, and the ship does disband, they can travel with Zuko and help him as much as he’ll bend his pride to allow.

That leads them to another point. Zuko is prideful. Not in an ‘I’m better than you’ sort of way, far from it. But he has a noble’s grace and standards, and holds himself to them. His pride is more of a quiet recognition of what he will and won’t do, focused on the upholding of his honor. All of which are admirable traits in a prince, but absolutely not what’s needed for a refugee seeking a new life.

They glance over at Zuko. He’s starting to stir a bit, so he’ll probably be up soon. Haruto pours him a cup of tea and leaves it on the counter as they sip theirs slowly. They seem to be caught in quite a dilemma. Not quite a paradox, there are ways out, but none seem quite right. Fleeing the ship when they lose supply certainly is the pragmatic approach, but that would mean abandoning their duty to the prince. It’d mean abandoning their loyalty to the Fire Nation.

That’s something they all want to avoid at all costs. It’d hurt the prince to do it as well. He doesn’t seem the type at first glance, but looking any deeper shows that the tough exterior he puts on hides… certainly not a gentle soul, but he is kind, and well meaning in his own way.

Haruto fights the urge to punch the wall. That’s why he acts the way he does- he’s hiding his perceived weakness under a spiky exterior. It makes sense. It makes sense in a horrible twisted up way. In the Fire Lord’s court, caring for the people is out of the question. All that matters is using them. And the prince cares. He cares too much.

They want to laugh, they want to cry, it all makes sense. This fits in with everything the prince shows when he’s off guard. He’s so loathe to show weakness, he seldom does, but he’s still a tired and sick kid, and when he’s off his guard- he flinches, he ducks his head, he draws back and closes up. 

And they hate that it fits, that it all makes sense. They’d been reading their scrolls, they know what this means, and they hate it. They hate that they know this now, they say ignorance is bliss, but they hate that they want to not know because knowledge is always useful and important and how could they wish to be blind while a child suffers- they cut themself off and exhale. Deep breaths. Getting worked up won’t help anyone, least of all the prince.

Speaking of the prince, they notice that Zuko’s starting to wake up, so Haruto picks up the cup and walks it to the bedside table. Their cup is nearly finished, so they end up walking back and refilling it before sitting on the stool by his bedside. Their thoughts are still tumbling over each other, yowling to be heard and understood. Haruto very deliberately pushes those thoughts away. They come roaring back, but they ignore them.

Finally, Zuko pushes himself up and blinks at them. “Y’re? Oh.” He draws himself together, sitting cross legged under the sheets and looks at them. “Sorry about last night,” he starts, turning his head away.

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Haruto reassures, gripping their cup tighter. “We all have hard times. I’m your medic, it’s my job to help you.” 

“But-” he starts.

“No ‘buts’, I’m here to help you.”

He clenches his fist and opens his mouth to say something before closing it again.

Haruto passes him the untouched cup of tea. “Here. Drink some. It’ll help you feel better.”

Zuko accepts the tea and is about to drink some when he asks, “Why are you being so nice?” Haruto nearly chokes on their tea. They don’t have time to respond before Zuko continues, “I didn’t answer you last night, and you had to wake up. Why are you still being nice?”

They set their cup in their lap and take a moment to think carefully about what they’re going to say. “You didn’t need to answer me, and I was already awake. Plus, it’s okay to need things. Even if that thing is another person. You needed me, and I was there."

He bristles. “I didn’t-” He exhales sharply and starts again, quieter. “I didn’t need you. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. It’s okay to not be fine.”

“I’m fine! I don’t need help!” His grip is tight around the cup of tea.

Haruto bites their lip. “Alright,” they say, choosing their words cautiously. “Maybe you don’t need my help, but as your medic, I think you could benefit from it. This is my job. Helping people.”

Zuko looks away again. He looks like he’s very carefully trying not to cry. He’s succeeding for now.

“For now, just drink some tea. This is regular tea, not medicine, so it tastes good.”

“It’s just hot leaf juice,” Zuko mutters, but he takes a sip. Meanwhile, Haruto’s doing their best not to burst out laughing. This would be quite the awkward time for that, but hot leaf juice. They take a good moment to compose themself while Zuko drinks his tea.

They’re burning to ask about what happened last night. Do the nightmares happen often? What about the silence? Zuko’s so rarely silent, it was quite jarring. But judging by the way he acted about the events of last night, asking him would be a recipe for disaster.

Zuko sets his cup down but doesn’t say anything. A long moment of silence passes. Just as it starts to edge from solemn to awkward, Haruto decides to say something.

“Well, the good news is that your fever is starting to go away, and,” what now, they hadn’t thought, they’d just started speaking, “yeah, it’s. Almost gone.” they finish lamely.

“That’s good to hear,” Zuko says absently. There’s another long silence. Haruto drinks the last of their tea and stands up to get more.

“Drink your tea. It helps to have fluid in you, especially since that fever isn’t gone yet.” When they turn back around to sit back down, Zuko’s just finishing taking a drink. Good kid.

“So what I want to talk to you about,” Haruto starts, “Is what’s going to happen to this ship once we leave Fire Nation waters.” 

Zuko looks up and bites his lip. “The money issue?”

They nod. “That, and what we’re on trajectory to do . We can’t just float around forever.”

“We could start with either the Western or the Southern Air Temple,” Zuko says, tilting his cup around to make the tea swirl. “We’re about equally close to both, but the currents favor us if we go South.”

Haruto stares at him, brows knitted in confusion. “Why go to the Air Temples? There’s nothing left there but bones and dust.”

Zuko bites his lip. “Yeah, but as the last known location of the Avatar, they may hold some clues as to where they would go next.”

“You-” Haruto pauses, mid sentence. “You intend to search for the Avatar?”

Now Zuko looks confused. “It’s what my father told me to do. As soon as I find the Avatar, I can return home.” He honestly believes that there’s a chance to return home. Haruto wants to cry or something because it isn’t fair. It isn’t fair that Zuko, for all his maturity, is still a desperate and in some ways naive thirteen year old, cast out on a fool’s errand that he intends to complete.

Haruto… doesn’t have it in him to break his heart. Someone will have to, or he’ll find out himself, but not now. Not while he’s sick and the wound is still fresh.

“Nothing. I just didn’t expect you to have such a solid plan while you’re sick. Have you informed the helmsman of our destination?”

This gives Zuko pause. “I was going to after the meeting with the marines, but then-”

“You collapsed, and this whole debacle began. Got it. I hate to make you work while you’re sick, but we need to have our destination sorted out. Could you speak with the helmsman?"

Zuko moves to get out of bed, but Haruto stops him with a “Heyheyhey whoa where are you going?”

“To speak to the helmsman?”

“No, you aren’t going up the tower to the navigation room. I can get the helmsman and bring him here to speak with you. Understand?” They should have known better. The kid’s a total workaholic- of course he’d assume that he’d be the one to meet with the helmsman instead of the other way around.

Zuko nods and slides back under the covers. Then suddenly looks taken aback. “You can’t tell me what to do. I’m the commander of this ship.”

“As your doctor and as someone older than you, I promise you I can and will. Stay here, and I’ll get the helmsman.”

He sighs almost dramatically and nods again.

Haruto steps out the door and closes it before letting out a breath. Zuko’s great, he really is, but he can be difficult to deal with. Not by any fault of his own, but purely due to the way he takes things so seriously all the time.

They start on the way to the tower. Zuko’s one of those people who doesn't seem to know when to stop. He’ll keep going and going and run himself into a wall trying to do what’s asked of him. They turn a corner and nearly run into one of the engineers, lost in thought. They say quick apologies and keep walking.

Keeping Zuko on bed rest is going to be difficult. Maybe getting him some scrolls to read would help? They grimace. Even mentally, they’re bouncing around the point. Zuko thinks he has a chance to regain the Fire Lord’s- his father’s favor. If he ever had it in the first place. Surely he knows how much of a long shot finding the avatar would be. These days, it’s generally believed that the Avatar died at the assaults on the Air Temples, and the Water (or Earth after that) are hiding out somewhere. Or don’t know.

Whatever the case may be, they’re searching for a needle in a haystack, and the needle may not exist. Who knows what the rules about the Avatar are. Maybe they died for good at the Air Temples.

By now Haruto’s reached the tower and started on the stairs. The most important part about the whole problem here is that Zuko believes that his mission, capture the Avatar, was meant to be fulfilled. Whether he’s blinder to court politics then they thought, or just desperate to get home, it isn’t clear, but he’s going to run himself ragged chasing after an impossible goal.

Now they’re standing in front of the door to the navigation room. Hopefully the helmsman will be inside. Haruto knocks on the door. A few seconds later, the door is opened by an older man who looks at them and asks,

“What do you have need of?”

They answer, “The prince intends to consult you on the trajectory of the ship,” and oh how nice it is to hide confused and rambling thoughts under polite and formal speech.

The navigator steps back into the room and comes back a moment later, this time holding a map. At Haruto’s questioning glance, he explains, “We’re going to need this for comparing travel times. We’ll need to restock if we’re making a longer voyage.”

Haruto responds with a simple “Mhm” and they start down the stairs. 

Partially through the halls on the way back to the medical bay, the helmsman says, “Now, how come you aren’t wearing your uniform?”

Haruto looks down. They never changed out of their sleeping clothes. “It’s been a busy morning.” they say dryly.

At that, the helmsman laughs. “I met the prince our first day at sea. Busy sounds like an understatement.”

Haruto exhales. “He’s… difficult. But it’s not his fault. He’s stubborn and determined to work, and keeping him on bed rest is already difficult. But he’s a good kid."

“He takes his job seriously,” he adds. “Far more than I did at his age for sure.”

They nod. “He’s very resolute. Almost concerningly so. He tried to go back to work while he was in the middle of a fever flareup.” Haruto doesn’t know quite why they’re spilling everything, but they’re concerned for the prince and don’t know what to do, and the helmsman seems trustworthy. “I don’t know what to do with him. Most thirteen year olds I’ve known would be overjoyed to have an excuse to stay in bed all day.”

The helmsman lets a moment elapse before saying, “You have to remember, he’s not thirteen the way we were. He’s raised to rule.”

Haruto hums in lieu of an answer, thinking about what he said. They turn the last corner and approach the door in silence. Opening the door, they announce to Zuko, “I’m back.” 

The helmsman files in behind them and greets him, “Hello again, Prince Zuko. I am helmsman Ichiro; we met the other day.”

Zuko inclines his head, “I assume Haruto explained the reason I sent for you?”

“Yes. I brought a map to help us chart a path.”

The prince gestures to the stool. “Sit down. Shall we start?”

While the two of them get situated, Haruto steps into the back room to run inventory on what it was stocked with. There’s no way they can help with navigation, and they’ve been putting off organizing the shelf of tools since they first got on the ship.

As they pull down a box of suturing needles, they muse on the way Zuko’s attitude immediately changed when the helmsman entered. It’s like flipping a switch- with them, he’d been acting like a teenager. Stubborn and serious, sure, but the difference becomes clear when he changes to act like a court noble, all careful words and gracious movements nevermind the fact he’s still sitting up in a cot.

Haruto realizes they forgot a scroll to take inventory on, so they have to step back into the room. When they do, they notice that Zuko and the helmsman, Ichiro, have pulled out the bedside table and are using it to lay out the map on and are discussing something about currents that they don’t understand.

Scroll retrieved, they return to the shelf and settle into a rhythm of noting down items to the murmur of voices from the other room.

Zuko and Ichiro finish talking before Haruto’s done taking inventory, and by the time they leave the store room, the helmsman is gone and Zuko’s leaning sleepily against the wall.

Opening a cabinet to take out fresh bandages and gauze, they say “You can sleep in a minute. Right now, I need to replace the bandages. This time I also need to put on more salve. The palace healers sent a scroll with you about what they’d done for you, and they said to only put it on every other day,” They slide out the mortar and pestle, talking mainly to give Zuko something to focus on so he doesn’t fall asleep in the time it takes them to prepare the burn salve.

“It makes sense, since the salve they prescribed is so strong. I’m changing it a little by adding calendula. I’m not sure why they didn’t use it, maybe they thought-” Haruto’s cut off when Zuko starts coughing.

“That’s a nasty cough. Do you want some tea to help it? It doesn’t have to be medicinal.”

Zuko shakes his head. “M’good,” he slurs, blinking slowly.

“Alright then. But if your cough gets any worse, you’re going to have to have something to drink,” they say over their shoulder while pulling out several tins of herbs. Haruto also grabs a couple measuring spoons, and opens the tins to start combining herbs in the mortar. They begin methodically grinding the herbs into miniscule pieces before decanting them into a larger container. Then they pull out a container of oil and pour a good amount over the crushed herbs.

Finally, Haruto covers the mixture and sets it over the still going heater they used to make tea. Changing gear, they slide the tins of herbs back away under the counter and pull out one of beeswax. They use the larger measuring spoon to scoop out a good amount of the beeswax and into a separate container. The beeswax goes back under the counter and the measuring spoon goes in the sink, and they slide the container over next to the heater to melt the beeswax.

While they wait, they pour themself a cup of tea from the teapot still resting on the counter. The tea is almost cold, but they drink it anyways. Meanwhile, Zuko’s really starting to nod off.

“You can go to sleep. I can wake you up when the salve is ready; it’ll be more than half an hour.” Zuko blinks at them and scootches forwards in the cot to give himself the space to lie down, which he promptly does. Haruto smiles and turns back to the counter. There isn’t much for them to do until the beeswax is melted and the oil is infused.

Instead, they start writing up a formal inventory notice to give to Hinata. Not for the first time, they wish they could just hand him the damn scroll and be done with it. But even exiled, there’s no escape from paperwork.

It’s easy to zone out while writing official documents, and by the time they finish it, forty minutes have passed. Using a padded cloth to protect their hand, they pick up and swirl the container holding the beeswax. It seems to be melted all the way through. The oil could be used now, but it’d be better to give it a little more time. So Haruto sets the beeswax back down next to the heater to stay warm, pokes a little more coal into the heater itself, and checks on the prince.

He’s asleep lightly, and they’re sure that he’ll wake up at the slightest touch. Because of that, they check his bandages only visually. He’s sleeping on his right, likely as to not aggravate the injury, which gives them a good view of the pad of gauze. Nothing has soaked through the gauze, and it still seems to be positioned properly over the entirety of the burn.

After checking that, they aren’t sure what to do. They should leave the oil to infuse more, but there isn’t anything they can do right now. Haruto paces the medical bay, rifles through cabinets, before deciding after about another fifteen minutes that the salve is done enough.

Again using the padded cloth, they pull the oil off the heat and pour it into the beeswax through a strainer, stirring with a long stir stick. Now, they need to wait for it to cool enough to use it. They continually stir the salve, trying to get it to cool. They also pull out a small flat tin to store the salve in once it’s cooled.

Eventually, the salve is cool enough that it’s starting to solidify, and at that point they pour it into the tin. Upon making contact with the cool metal, it solidifies even faster, and they leave it to do that while they start washing everything they used.

Several containers in, Haruto stops to check on the now-solidified salve. It’s still a little warm and squishy when they poke it, but that’ll only help it work better for now. They finish drying off their hands with a small cloth and walk over to wake up the prince.

They tap him gently on the shoulder and Zuko startles before opening his eye and staring at them. He starts to push himself into a sitting position and Haruto’s quick to help him up.

“So the thing’s ready?” he says, yawning.

“Yep. Do you want me to show you how to apply the salve and then you put the bandages on the way I showed you?” they offer.

“Sure,” Zuko says, stretching his arms out in front of himself. “I’m sure I can put them on right.”

“I’m sure you can.” They grab the tin of cooling salve as well as the bandages and gauze and bring them all over and set them down on the bedside table. Meanwhile, Zuko’s untucking the back of the bandages on his head. He lowers the gauze into his lap and stares at it.

The gauze has spots of blood and pus, as well as other clear liquids that leaked from the wound. The burn itself is still a ghastly mess, raised and puckered with broken skin weeping fluid. The whole thing is a bright red disaster that doesn’t belong on a child.

Haruto carefully doesn’t stare at it, but catches Zuko closing his eyes and curling his hands into fists out of the corner of their vision. They don’t know what to say to him to help, but saying nothing won’t help either. 

They take the soiled gauze and bandages from his lap, ball them up, and set them to the side on the table. “Are you ready?”

Zuko seems to almost snap out of a trance. He looks up and says, “Yes!” very suddenly.

“Alright. The first thing we do is dab the salve on thickly. A lot of it will come off on the new gauze, but that’s okay. It might also hurt, so let me know if there’s any pain.” They scrape up a decent amount of the salve on two fingers, and start gently applying it to the burn. The moment they first touch it, Zuko flinches back, but relaxes mechanically and closes his eyes. His breathing is rushed and light, but they don’t mention it.

“So when you apply it, you’re going to want to not blob on too much at once, but you want to put it on heavy enough that your finger won’t touch the skin and irritate it. This is easier when it’s more healed and you can properly rub it into the skin without aggravating the injury, but for now we’re covering it.” They continue covering the burn with the salve, one small scoop at a time, talking Zuko through it the whole time.

Giving him something to focus on will help, as will giving him some agency in his treatment by letting him do it himself after this. He’s too self sufficient to be content letting Haruto administer treatment to him the whole time he’s stuck in the medical bay.

Zuko doesn’t say anything the whole time, but occasionally he tenses up when the salve stings or pulls on the wound. When they finish, he relaxes completely again and opens his eyes.

“Thank you. Could you pass me the bandages?” He’s back to being formal and stiff. It might be a way of closing himself off when vulnerable. That would start to explain some about him. They pass him the bandages, lost in thought.

He puts the bandages on almost perfectly. “Good job,” they praise honestly. “You’re a fast learner.” Zuko smiles that sad, closed off smile, this time with a hint of pride. They smile back and pat him on the shoulder.

“If you’re interested in learning more, I can bring you some basic scrolls on healing,” they offer. Zuko immediately brightens. It's a subtle thing, but he seems excited at the prospect of learning, even if his voice is as measured as usual.

"That'd be nice," he says simply.

They stand up and grab the wadded up old bandages. "I can grab you one now if you'd like. We have some simple ones that go over basic herbs that you might find at a good beginner level."

Zuko's smile widens a little. "I'd like to read one."

They turn to walk towards the storage room and say over their shoulder, "I'll get you one then!" Along the way to the scroll shelves, they stop by the bottom cabinet that holds the trash can and drop the used bandages inside.

Staring at the racks of scrolls, they slide out a couple they mentally bookmarked the other day when they looked through the scroll inventory. At the time, they thought having such basic level scrolls was strange and useless. Now they just thought it was strange. Regardless, they're lucky enough to have a couple scrolls that go over the basics.

One scroll is about herbs, and the other is first aid. As they walk back into the room, they wonder which one Zuko will find more interesting. Probably the first aid, they think, kicking the storage room door closed. Herbs are finicky and frustrating and have a truly astounding amount of little details to memorize.

"Here you go," they say, setting the scrolls in his lap. "One's first aid and the other's herbs. They're both pretty simple, but use some specialized terminology. Let me know if there's something you don't know what it means and I should be able to help."

Zuko nods. "I will." He sets the scroll on herbs to the side and starts unrolling the one on first aid.

They leave him be to investigate the scrolls and move to walk out the door, pausing in the doorway to say to him, "I'll be back in a moment, I need to go to my room." Zuko doesn't react in any way, so they continue out along the corridor. The helmsman brought it up and they've been thinking about it ever since. They really need to get in uniform.

Chapter Text

Haruto stops by the cafeteria to grab some food. They should have done this sooner, but being busy and distracted, it slipped their mind. Yutaka supplies them with two leftover bowls of porridge from breakfast, and after a brief thank you, Haruto starts down the hall toward the medical bay.

They set the bowls aside long enough to open the door, and heading inside, find Zuko completely focused on a scroll. He lifts his head upon their entrance.

"I brought a late breakfast" they say, gesturing with one bowl to the other. "It's just porridge, but it's good for you." Handing one of the bowls to Zuko, they sit down on the stool and start blowing on a spoonful of hot porridge. Zuko stirs the porridge aimlessly while still reading one of the scrolls laid out on the cot.

"You need to actually eat the porridge for it to help you."

He shoots them a glare without much behind it, but eats a spoonful. The two of them sit in a companionable silence for a little bit longer, until Haruto finishes their bowl and stands up to set it in the sink to be cleaned out later with the rest of the containers from making the salve.

They’ve hardly done that before someone knocks on the door. Haruto groans. Can’t they go two minutes without someone busting in? When they open the door, Yasu’s smiling in the doorway.

“Come in,” they say, pretending to be grouchier than they are. Yasu’s at least someone they can count on, and it makes sense she’d want to check on Zuko.

As she steps in, she says to both of them, “Good morning! How are you guys doing?”

“Hm,” Haruto says, “got worse about ten seconds ago.” Yasu elbows them in the ribs. 

Meanwhile, Zuko’s looking up from his bowl. “I’m fine. And you?”

She scoots the stool Haruto had been using over towards the bed and says, “No need to be so formal! I’m doing good though! Just got off morning shift in the engine room.”

Haruto sighs and walks over to the storage room for another stool.

They can still hear Yasu and Zuko conversing in the background, although Yasu is far more energetic than Zuko. He's answering awkwardly and stiffly, but at least he's talking. They'd been more than a little concerned about him last night.

They pause in the storeroom and just listen to the two of them talking. Being stuck with a medic constantly monitoring you is something that even adults get frustrated with, so it's good to give Zuko some space to talk with just Yasu. That isn't all of why they're taking a moment though, they have to admit. They've been on high alert looking out for Zuko since Yasu first went to get them after he collapsed in the hallway, and it's starting to weigh on them. Being a medic means looking out for people, and Haruto's used to that. But Zuko is something they never saw coming.

Their inner monologue is cut off by Yasu yelling, "You can't hide in the storeroom forever! You're gonna have to deal with me eventually!"

They roll their eyes, grab a stool, and returns to the main room. Yasu cheers overdramatically at their entrance. Zuko's watching her with a look halfway between confusion and concern.

Haruto sets down the stool and points at her. “You don’t get to cheer. You stole my seat so I had to get a new one.” 

Yasu shrugs. Zuko still doesn’t seem to know how to react, clearly out of his element, and hides his confusion by focusing on the scroll he’d been reading. He can’t continue to ignore them for long, as Yasu slings an arm around his shoulders.

“Whatcha reading?”

Zuko looks up, startled for a moment, before turning back to the scroll and answering, “Haruto gave it to me.” His voice has a hint of wonder and disbelief that Haruto doesn’t like one bit. It’s just a scroll; he shouldn’t be that surprised they lent it to him.

Yasu either doesn’t notice or chooses to ignore it, or maybe Haruto’s overthinking it. Regardless, Yasu continues on by asking, “What’s it about?”

Again, Zuko looks up, surprised. “It’s on first aid,” he replies, and keeps reading.

Yasu is as persistent as she is undeterred. “Well, if you’re gonna be reading, you need a fort!”

Zuko blinks but doesn’t look up. “A what.”

“A blanket fort! It’s what my parents always did for me when I was sick!”

“Oh, no. You are not trashing my medical bay to make a blanket fort,” Haruto says firmly, halfway to their feet.

“Oh absolutely we are!” Yasu shoots back. “Where do you keep the spare sheets?”

“Wait,” Zuko interjects. He isn’t even trying to read his scroll anymore, and it sits abandoned in his lap. “You’re making a what?”

Yasu frowns at him. “You’ve never made a blanket fort?”

“No?”

Haruto sighs and sinks back into their seat. They try to keep looking grumpy, but it’s getting hard. Cleanup will be rough, but it’d probably boost Zuko’s spirits, and staying in a cot all day gets pretty monotonous, so blanket fort it is. “Sheets are in the bottom cabinet, far right.”

Yasu cheers. “Alright! You’re getting your first blanket fort ever!”

They stand up. “I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?” Yasu asks. They don’t answer, but instead walk out of the room, closing the door behind them. Once out of the room, they let themself smile. A blanket fort, huh? They never would have considered that. They know exactly where to go for one, though.

Making their way through the halls, Haruto thinks. It makes sense that Zuko wouldn’t have experience with things like blanket forts, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. Like everything about his life, it isn’t fair. He should have the freedom to be a kid.

As they round the corner to the laundry room, they realize they aren’t alone. One of the seamen is running a load, sleeves rolled up to scrub the fabrics in the large washing tubs.

At the sound of Haruto’s footsteps, he lifts his head. “Hello! What are you doing here? I mean- not that you don’t have a reason to be here, I’m sure you do, not to be rude, but why are you here?”

Haruto ignores his rambling. “I need a lot of sheets. Where do you keep them?”

“They’re in the top right cabinet- why? I mean uh. Not to be rude but why do you need more sheets? Doesn’t the med bay have full stock? I mean-”

“At ease, seaman. You don’t need to be so formal.” The seaman looks down and scratches the back of his head with one hand ashamedly. “I need sheets because Motorman Yasu decided to make a blanket fort for Prince Zuko. Top right cabinet, you said?”

The seaman looks up again. “A blanket fort?”

Haruto glances over their shoulder at him as they start toward the cabinets. “Yeah, I said that too. She thinks it’ll be good for him and honestly, my only complaint is the mess it’s gonna make.” They rifle through the cabinet and pull down a stack of clean sheets.

“Let me help,” the seaman says, getting to his feet. “I’m Seaman Sora, by the way. But yeah, let me help. We can carry more sheets together, and my older sister will have you know I’m the best at making blanket forts.”

Startled for a moment, they pause. Then, they hold out the stack of sheets. “You take these; I’ll grab more.” Sora takes the sheets and Haruto turns back around to root through the piles to try to find some proper blankets. They hit the jackpot when, a cabinet over, they find some heavy cotton blankets. Grabbing all three, they round off the stack with another linen sheet.

They bonk the cabinet closed with their elbow and turn towards the door. “Ready to go?” They ask as a formality, already on their way out of the room. There are some rushed footsteps, and then Sora’s up next to them.

Haruto transfers the stack of blankets to one hand to open the door and says, “So how come you’re tagging along?”

Sora closes the door behind them both. “I told you. I’m good at making blanket forts. Plus, you’re right. The kid really deserves one.” Haruto hums in agreement. “Plus, it gets me off laundry duty.”

Haruto chuckles at that. “I remember laundry duty back in training. Glad I can pass that onto others now.”

Then it’s Sora’s turn to laugh. “Yeah, sure. Just shove all the hard jobs on us. I mean-”

“I said, don’t worry about being formal. My last station? There was this guy who never once called me by my name. It was always ‘honored medic’ or ‘officer surgeon’ or what have you. It got infuriating after approximately five minutes.”

“I never thought about it that way. Sorry if I’m ever like that. I just don’t ever know if what I’ve said is right. I got stationed here for back talking and I’ve been extra careful since.”

Haruto shakes their head. “Some of these commanders are just too strict. It seems half of them wouldn’t know honesty from an insult if it came swinging at their head. If the nation keeps like this, It’ll just be a handful of self-important officers and a population of disgraced soldiers.”

The two of them turn another corner. “Yeah,” Sora agrees. “I’ve never been the most self-assured, and I never wanted to insult anyone, so I took it pretty hard. Especially considering where I got reassigned.”

“What, you didn’t want to be shoved on a ship of traitors and exiled from home forever?” Haruto teases.

Sora laughs before putting on a grim face. “It isn’t fair.”

“No it isn’t,” Haruto says. “And the people whose job it is to make sure it’s fair, they don’t care about us. All they care about is glory in crushing the other nations.” A pause. “And on that cheery note, we’re here.”

Again, they swap their grip to hold the blankets with just one hand, and pull open the door.

“Welcome back!” Yasu chirps. She’s made a good start on the fort, using the wall-mounted lantern as a support to tie sheets too, as well as locating a spool of twine and some splint boards. “I was just about to- Oh who’s this?”

“Hi,” Sora says sheepishly. “I was doing laundry and ended up joining them. I heard you were making a blanket fort for the prince and had to join in.”

“Hello, Seaman,” Zuko greets, scroll splayed out in his lap. He looks completely indifferent to the sheets over his head. “Are you just escorting Haruto, or are you to stay?”

“Am I- Oh, yeah I’m gonna be hanging out here if that’s okay! I wanted to help make sure you’re doing well- not that there’s a reason I think you wouldn’t it’s just-” He stops abruptly. “Sorry. I’m here to help build the fort and just kinda hang out?

Zuko looks off put for a second, and then responds, “Yeah it’s? Okay. For you to stay I mean.”

“I’m going to cut off your awkwarding contest a minute to ask- where do you want these blankets?” Haruto cuts in.

Zuko looks at him, affronted. “I wasn’t-!”

“Yes you were. Yasu?”

She snorts with laughter and replies, “Pass one to me and put the others on the foot of the bed. You too, Seaman.”

Haruto does that, and while Sora adds his sheets to the pile, they ask sarcastically, “So what do you want us to do, oh great blanket fort masters?”

Sora and Yasu start to speak at the same time, but Sora stops and gestures for her to continue.

“Okay, so as I was saying, I found some stuff in the storage room we could use to prop up the sheets! The splint boards can be tied to that end of the bed,” she points to the left corner at the head, “so we can support blankets there too! Maybe even the foot of the bed so we can have a tent kinda thing going!”

Haruto bites their lip to keep themself from objecting to the use of their supplies.

“I was thinking a similar thing!” Sora adds. “I know a bunch of knots, so I could take over lashing the boards in place? It’ll be kinda tricky with the way the bed is, but I think I can do it!”

“That sounds good! I’ll start on tying sheets to the boards?”

“Perfect,” he says as he picks up the spool of twine and scissors.

They move to sit on the stool near the corner before Yasu whirls to face them.

“Nuh-uh. You’re helping too!”

“Am not.”

“Are too!"

“I’m not going to aid in the destruction of my workspace!” they object.

“Well, too bad,” Yasu says as she drags them by the arm over to the cot where Zuko sits, mystified by the actions of everyone but himself.

“What can I even do!” Haruto protests. “You’ve got everything covered!”

Yasu doesn’t stop. “You can help me by finding a longer splint to use for the post at the head of the bed.” She lets go of their arm and gestures with one hand to the storage room.

They sigh dramatically and trudge over. “I bring back more blankets and this is the thanks I get?!” they holler over their shoulder.

Yasu sticks her tongue out as she unspools the twine. Sora laughs, while Zuko seems resigned to confusion and is back to reading his scroll.

It doesn’t take Haruto long to pull out a splint meant for the full leg, prop it over their shoulder, and walk back towards the cot. 

Between the three of them, a more than half-decent tent-ish blanket fort springs up around Zuko, reading the whole time they bantered and worked.

Yasu steps back from the finished fort and props her hands on her hips. “So, Little Prince, how do you like it?”

“It’s.” Zuko starts and pauses. “It’s nice?”

“Yeah?!” Yasu says excitedly.

Zuko looks down at his hands holding the scroll. “And… I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry.”

“Nonono don’t be sorry,” Haruto says, walking over to rest a hand on his shoulder. “We did this for you; you don’t have to know what to say.”

Yasu steps up next to them. “Yeah, there’s nothing you need to say! We did this because we hoped you’d like it!”

Sora’s still standing near the door, and he scratches the back of his head awkwardly. “I’m not sure how much it’d help but something you could do is that if you don’t know what to say, you can always talk about how it makes you feel. That’s something my mom told me to do when someone gives you a gift. You don’t have to! I mean, I don’t want to make you do anything and it’s probably a dumb idea anyways-”

Haruto cuts him off by holding up their spare hand. “I think it sounds like a good idea. Zuko?”

“I don’t want to talk about my feelings,” he grumbles quietly.

“And I’m not going to make you,” Haruto replies. “But I think it’d be a good thing for you to talk openly about things.”

Zuko scrunches up his face before exhaling and relaxing. “Okay. Okay fine but only because you told me to.” He leans his head back to stare at the sheets over his head.

A moment passes. Yasu shifts from side to side impatiently.

Finally, Zuko rolls his head forward to look at them and says “It’s…” he huffs out a frustrated breath. “I don’t know!”

Haruto pats him on the shoulder. “You don’t have to know. I just thought it might be nice for you to try figuring it out.”

“Feelings are hard,” Yasu chimes in. “It’s okay to not know the right words to use.”

Zuko fiddles with the scroll.

“Look, I’m sorry I brought up the idea,” Sora starts.

“Don’t worry,” Haruto says quickly.” It’s not your fault.” Zuko tenses. “It isn’t your fault either. Like Yasu said, feelings are hard.”

Zuko relaxes a little and looks away from them, towards his scroll. “...Yeah. Not my fault.”

An awkward silence falls and starts to stretch on. Haruto checks the clock. 11:26.

“So, Yasu. Did you have a plan for what to do after making the blanket fort?”

“Hm? Oh, I didn’t really think that far ahead,” she says. “We could hang out and play cards again!”

“Oh that sounds fun!” Sora pitches in.

“Do you have cards?” Haruto asks.

“... No. Do you?”

“Not me. Sora? Do you?”

“Sorry, I don’t.”

“There might be a deck in the storage room?” Yasu suggests.

“In the- You think there’s a deck of cards in the storage room? Why?”

“I dunno, it was a long shot.” she replies with a shrug.

Sora looks thoughtful for a moment before suggesting, “We could play a storytelling game. Those don’t need cards.”

“I’m no good at storytelling games,” Haruto admits.

“Me neither,” Yasu puts in.

“Hmm,” Sora muses aloud. “There’s always word games like shiritori.”

Yasu leans back against the wall. “Yeah, but that gets boring after awhile. Does anyone have dice?”

“We aren’t gambling. Besides, I don’t have dice anyways.”

“Man, I really wish we had cards. It’s been ages since I last played a game of poker. Or daifugo, for that matter,” Sora muses, sitting down on the pushed aside stool.

“Daifugo? I haven’t heard of that one,” Haruto says curiously.

“Oh! It’s a newer game that’s really getting popular!” Yasu replies.

“Either get a deck of cards, or be quiet!” Zuko yells frustratedly.

They succeed at not laughing, but then realize they have to reply. “Sorry, Zuko. I can go look around and see if anyone in the mess hall has cards?”

“No that’s okay. I can just read my scroll and all of you can do whatever,” he dismisses.

Yasu looks thoughtful before saying, “Okay so no one has a deck of four-suit. Does anyone have hanafuda?”

“If I don’t have four-suit what makes you think I’d have hanafuda?” Haruto replies exasperatedly.

Unexpectedly, Zuko cuts in.“I think I have some.”

“Wait really?” Yasu says excitedly.

“One of the chests they loaded onboard to my room- the red lacquered wood one, I think it still has my old hanafuda in it,” he says absently, unrolling the scroll a bit further. Suddenly, he seems to realize what he’s saying and looks up quickly. “I mean-”

“Alright, sweet!” Yasu exclaims, pumping her fist. Zuko sighs.

“Do you want to play cards with us? If you don’t, we won’t take your cards, but it’d be nice to play, don’t you think?” Haruto asks Zuko.

“I mean,” Zuko looks down again and resumes fidgeting with the scroll, “...Yeah. I’d like to play. But only because all of you want to!”

Sure , Haruto thinks. “Of course,” Haruto says.

“Game night number two, coming up! I can go pick up the cards from your room,” she offers. “That sounds good” Haruto replies

“Then I’ll be right back!” Yasu announces, waving to them before stepping out the door. Haruto doesn’t know what to expect, but if it makes Zuko happy, that’s all that matters.