Chapter Text
Azula hadn’t meant to like them, honestly.
Being reborn had been a painfully dreary affair, even with people doting on her endlessly.
She’s sure she took her new family by surprise when, at the age of one, after remaining silent out of pure spite and righteous fury at the universe, Azula’s first words had been –
“Unhand me this instant, you impudent swine!”
The shock on the face of the sour-faced uncle that was holding her at arm’s length was rather amusing, she supposes. Of course, she’s sure her bewildered family were not expecting her to follow it up with –
“Are you deaf? Unhand me. I am the princess of the Fire Nation!”
The uncle very carefully set her on her feet, where she had proceeded to march over to her stern-faced father, still and awed as he sat seiza, and climb up onto his shoulders. There, she succeeded in looking down her nose at the unfavourable uncle, only to say –
“You are dismissed, old man. We are not in need of your droning commentary this afternoon. Goodbye.”
The uncle – ah, Kagari, she thinks his name was – had blinked at her once, slowly. Then he had looked to her father, sitting stern and still, and then her mother, who was valiantly pressing her lips together to refrain from either laughing or yelling.
And then the man got up, and did as she had commanded.
Her parents had sat in that room in silence for another minute in his absence. Azula, rather comfortable with the quiet, had taken it upon herself to play with her father’s rather silky hair.
“Kagami-chan,” her mother’s voice had been soft and deceptively sweet. She’d watched this woman puppet the entire clan and half the village with her artful manipulation of words. “All this time you’ve been holding out on us.”
Kagami, after her father’s famed uncle. A great man. Azula had distantly wondered if it was her destiny to be named for men who she was bound to surpass.
Azula sighed then, and climbed from her father’s shoulders, ignoring the steady hands he provided as footholds – she didn’t need them, damn it.
“Terribly sorry, mother,” except she wasn’t, and if her mother’s sharp-eyed stare was any indication, the woman knew it.
Point being, she hadn’t intended to like these people.
But then her father had said –
“My cute Kagami-chan, already giving orders,” with his too-stern face and a voice full of warmth, and Azula’s response had been to square her shoulders and declare –
“I am not cute! I will crush my enemies!”
But these people – her parents – had only smiled. And her father had said –
“Of course you will, darling.”
And her mother –
“And you’ll make sure they never get up again.”
And, well. Wasn’t that refreshing?
.
The universe saw fit to damn her with not one, but two brothers this time around.
The older one, Itachi, is soft spoken and gentle. He teaches her five ways to hamstring a man by the time she’s two, though, so she supposes his status as her sibling is redeemable.
Sasuke, on the other hand, reminds her of Zuko with burning ferocity. His easy smiles and his foolish naivete rankle at her unceasingly.
“Come play, Kagami-chan!”
He’s five years older than her, damn him. And he wants to play, like they’re children.
Well, she thinks, looking down at her stubby toddler legs, she supposes they are. For the time being.
“Fight me,” she demands of her stupid smiley brother, scowling, “my age is my only weakness, brother.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” and his big brown eyes are too full of concern, “I can help you train, though.”
He shows her the first moves of an unfamiliar kata. She’s already got the ones from her old life memorised, but this new land with its strange customs seems to mix all styles of bending movement into their standard forms.
“Too much earth,” she grumbles to herself, shifting into the next stance. This one has too much water, but she continues copying Sasuke with practiced ease. Her little body is surprisingly limber and recovers quickly from over exertion.
“Huh?” Sasuke doesn’t stop his forms, only looks down at her confusedly, “What was that?”
“That was my victory calling!” she yells, and then charges him. He dodges out of the jab she sends at him, and then again out of the way of her axe-kick.
“Woah, Kagami-chan! You’re super fast!”
“Don’t patronise me, fool!” she spits, and for a blinding second she only sees Zuko, six and happy, Zuko, being fawned over by their mother, Zuko, weak and pathetic and –
She draws from her chi, falls into the easy, sharp movements of her bending, and sends a swathe of blue flames in an arc towards her annoying brother.
He ducks beneath it with a yelp, and stays on the ground, panting. He’s staring at her, she realises.
But – but –
He’s not Zuko. There’s no horror on his face, no fear in his eyes.
Instead, Sasuke looks awed.
“Kagami-chan!” he scurries forward, reaching for her hands. She’s too slow to pull back, wincing as his grubby fingers grip at hers. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” she scoffs, “I’m not an amateur.”
Sasuke cocks his head, and for a second she thinks he’s going to ask her what the word amateur means, and then he says –
“That was awesome! Father! Aniki! Come here!” he bellows in the direction of the house. They’re only in their neat, proper backyard.
Azula scowls at the back door as her father and Itachi appear in a flash.
“Kagami-chan performed a fire jutsu!” Sasuke babbles excitedly, “And it was blue!”
Azula huffs, pulling her hands from his, “What did you expect? I’m the genius princess of the Fire Nation. I am the best.”
“Blue?” Itachi echoes, eyeing her hands worriedly as they approach.
“Yes, yes, my Kagami-chan is a princess, and Sasuke is her honourable knight.” Their father’s voice is warm despite his deadpan expression.
“Father, please,” Azula replies flatly, “I’m being serious.”
“Of course,” her father’s lips tilt up then, the slightest, “you’re my princess.”
She scowls harder, ignoring the flush to her cheeks, and the fury burning at her chest – wait, no. That’s not fury. And it’s less burning and more tickling, gentle candle warmth. Ugh, ew.
“Show them, show them!” Sasuke is bouncing in place, eyes alight with excitement, “Please, imouto!”
Huffing, but straightening her shoulders all the same, Azula marches a few metres away in her tiny two-year-old form, and refocuses. Her body falls into the beautiful sharp fluidity that so mirrors the flames she bends, and she performs her katas perfectly.
Her flames dance bright, vibrant blue, with their white-hot centres, and her arcs and kicks and jabs are seamless and strong. When she comes to a stop on one knee, her brothers and father are staring.
“Where did you learn that?” Itachi is the first one forward, holding her little hands in his, searching for burns, “Are you hurt, imouto?”
“I’m fine,” but she can’t bring herself to pull away from his warm, calloused hands. “I – well-”
She scowls, furious at her stutter. The genius of the Fire Nation, stuttering under a teeny tiny lie? Shameful.
“The fire tells me all I need to know,” she declares, “I already told you. I’m the princess of the Fire Nation, and I will be the next Fire Lord.”
“Fire Lord?” Sasuke cocks his stupid, adorable – wait not adorable. Yes adorab- no, foolish. He cocks his stupid, foolish, naïve head, and looks to his father, “Does she mean the Hokage?”
“Did I stutter?” she spits, “I will be the next Fire Lord and-”
“My daughter,” her father only narrowly escapes being set alight as she watches him raise a hand to set over his heart, “my very own Kagami-chan, striving for Hokage.”
Damn it all, she hates that she can hear the pride in his voice. That she can see the small upward tilt of Itachi’s lips, despite concern still in his dark gaze. That Sasuke is smiling at her like she’s some beautiful dainty flower and not destined to be the supreme ruler of the nation.
It’s only a little later that she realises he doesn’t smile at flowers or delicate things. Sasuke smiles in the face of danger, smiles at powerful, deadly things, and he had smiled at her.
She guesses he might be alright to keep around, too.