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烈火君蘇科 • 𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖 𝕝𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕫𝕦𝕜𝕠
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Zuko averts his eyes, awkwardly rubbing his forearm.

"Oh— I, uh. I didn't. I hired that bounty hunter with the Shirshu. I gave it your old sandal to smell so we could find you..."

Why... did Zuko have Iroh's old sandal...? Which sandal? Surely he doesn't mean the sandal Iroh dropped on the road off the back of an ostrich-horse when he was taken prisoner in the Earth Kingdom — last winter... whereas Zuko's claiming to be from the end of summer? Uhm? But he presses on, gesturing more emphatically again as he gets back to the real topic at hand.

"Uncle, my point is: we aren't from the same time... I think— in a way... I'm technically from your future."

And there's so much to unpack, then. So, so much. More than they even had the chance to discuss when they were reunited — though that entire interaction at the camp that day hasn't even happened for Iroh yet... which is emotional to think about in itself.

He sat back in his chair, taking that all in. Too stunned to even make a comment about the bounty hunter herself.

"The... future." Another possible indication Azula had actually been telling the truth? He wasn't going to let himself trust so easily, but it was something to keep in his mind.

"The spirit world is an odder place than I gave it credit for..."

When Iroh sits again, Zuko glances around the restaurant, suddenly aware again that they're in public, as he feels the wave of emotion start to swell behind this revelation. He shoots his uncle a meaningful look, remorseful and earnest and gentle, as he pulls out the chair across from him to take a seat himself. He hesitates before he does, though, keeping his hand on the chair's back as he asks permission he knows he doesn't need, but feels compelled to show at least that much respect and caution and apology, seeing as Iroh knows nothing of Zuko's summer of self-discovery. After the way he treated him in jail — that Iroh was ever even in jail in the first place... Zuko figures basic manners is the least he owes his poor uncle.

"...May I sit, Uncle? I think we have a lot to talk about..."

To put it lightly. He feels so much emotion swirling inside him already, where to even begin? He doesn't necessarily want to have a tearful embrace in public, but if it happens, it happens. There's much more to address first, though, and he's of course down to brass tacks, as always. Though, uncharacteristically, he does tag on a second thought, as if to sweeten the pot:

"I already ordered us some dumplings."

Because this is gonna take a while, he's implying. But that Zuko had such kind forethought — any forethought — maybe itself shows that something has changed in the boy, since Iroh last saw him... The Zuko Iroh last saw wasn't so considerate.

He nodded. "Y...yes, please sit," he said, his voice a bit rough with emotion. But with Zuko having said he ordered dumplings a small smile crept onto his lips. Between that and asking if he could sit... He was very proud of Zuko. Even if just now was not the moment.

Zuko bows to his uncle, deeper than just being polite, his fist held below his palm, a traditional Fire Nation bow of respect. Then takes his seat, casting more uncomfortable glances around the restaurant as he does; it's not too crowded... But enough so that Zuko is going to do his best to maintain composure, to hold back tears for as long as he can, though he knows they will inevitably fall. In the camp, it was just the two of them in the tent, and a hug was all that was needed, it turned out. That moment can never be recreated. Zuko'd had a whole spiel prepared then, and it didn't matter; his uncle forgave him when he'd barely gotten into his wind-up. He'd had a whole spiel prepared now, but in learning that Iroh's last memory of him was from prison, that throws him back into square one — even further back than square one. It puts him squarely back outside the tent, filled with remorse, more sorry than he's ever been for anything in his life...

But this time, even if he's now at the same launching point for a second time, he has the knowledge that it'll be okay. Katara told him that if he's truly sorry, then his uncle will forgive him; Zuko had been so sure Iroh was furious with him, certainly he felt conflicted, maybe really didn't expect to see him... Now that remark about the Spirit Realm makes more sense. But hurts even more. Zuko's heart feels ready to burst all over again with regret over his betrayal, almost the same intensity as it had that day in the tent. But this time, with miraculous added hindsight of their first reunion, he's certain that his uncle doesn't hate him. And that makes it easier — but no less difficult. Even heavier than before, in a certain light. All that time they were apart, and Iroh said he'd never been angry with Zuko — just sad. Zuko feels that pang now, and it draws his brow into a tight, quivering knot, his eyes fixed on his uncle. He wills himself composure. And while he knows so much has changed, so much is different, so much is going to be okay, is okay, he finds himself going right back to the same points he started off with in the camp, dismissed though they were... He has to start with an apology. There's nothing more important for them to discuss first — Spirit Realm or not.

"...Uncle Iroh... I am so sorry. I am so ashamed of what I did. The things I said. I regret so much. I want you to know, I've changed, and I know there is so much else at hand to discuss, but— before I say anything else, I need you to know how truly, deeply sorry I am for how I treated you, Uncle."

His eyes are already welling up, and he already feels the lump forming in his throat as he talks, his voice going slightly hoarse with emotion. He swallows hard, teeth clenched, trying so hard not to cry — but even as he tries to lighten up, he fails. So much for willing himself composure.

"And— how I am so thankful to be here with you right now..."

His voice trembles slightly, along with the rest of him, as the first few tears fall.

Iroh has no memory of that hug, for him it hadn't happened yet. Or rather, it was happening right now for the first time as he got up and pulled his nephew in for a tight hug.

"I... can already see some of the changes in you," he said quietly, voice thick with emotion. "Things I have always seen in you finally on the surface. I am so proud of you, Prince Zuko. And I always have been."

Zuko inhales sharply, deeply, swallowing the next tidal wave of emotion that hits him when Iroh pulls him into a hug. Just as anticipated — and yet, even expecting it, because it's already happened once before, Zuko's still caught off guard. It only takes him a second to hug him back, though. A faster reaction time than their last tearful reunion. And a tighter hug — he didn't know there could be a tighter hug, but here they are. He buries his face into his uncle's shoulder, taking in the familiar feeling, the familiar scent, and the overwhelming blessing of being able to hug him right now. He focuses on his breath control in order to stave off shaky sobs threatening to wrack through his chest, still painfully aware that they are in a public space — he can feel the emotion rattling inside, growing, ready to burst out...

But he wants this moment to be treated just as delicately as before — cultivated composure, almost. The lessons about emotional reactivity and patience and mindfulness and meditation and growth and all these things his uncle has waxed poetic on for so many years... all clearly blooming now, the fruits of his labor — all labors of love. Zuko's truly applied his lessons lately, and learned still more from his new friends — from the Avatar, himself, most specifically. All these same lessons — a new lens on lovingkindness that only Zuko could learn for himself. He's turned over a new leaf. And it shows, just in his breath control, the earnestness of his grip, how comfortable he seems hugging his uncle right now — without overflowing, nor bottling up. Like their reunion before, he even manages a wry little joke... a telling sign of his growth in itself.

"Thank you, Uncle. You don't even know the half of it..."

The ability to both show restraint and transparency — gently opening up, showing himself anew for what does still feel like the first time — it's a delicate feat he's managed in this moment. And still so unused to manifesting dreamotion, as inconsistent and confused by it as he is with his own emotions normally, he doesn't realize his powerful emotions channel themselves outward unconsciously... That is, until he smells the scent of jasmine, very distinctly. He opens his eyes, only to find a small jasmine flower blossoming from his uncle's lapel, right before his nose. He pulls back in surprise, eyes going wide as he notices that during their hug, he'd somehow conjured several stray jasmine vines, which gently crawled up their chairs, around their ankles and legs, their embraced arms, around their wrists, through their hair, everywhere, anywhere... Nothing alarming or painful. Just gentle. Delicate. Symbolic, even. Because each vine boasts a few little buds, that all individually, in their own time, slowly blossom to reveal those tiny fragrant white flowers Zuko will associate with his uncle for all time...

But for all the lightness and elegance of the jasmine blossom, seeing them sprout between the two men in their embrace makes this moment all the heavier. Zuko offers his uncle a lopsided, verklempt, almost amused smile, were it not for the bittersweet note this odd little surprise lends. He lets out the barest puff of a laugh, meeting his uncle's eye as a flower pops up and blooms from directly within Iroh's beard, just within his own peripheral eyeshot — well, if he crosses his eyes a bit, perhaps... It's very rare for Zuko to have 'if you don't laugh, you'll cry' moments — because that would involve him laughing — but Iroh is one of the few people who's seen Zuko laugh plenty... maybe not in a long time. But apparently he can again. And that's an even more telling sign of how much he's blossomed, too, even if his little amused, bemused puff of breath barely counts as a chuckle. Zuko's laughing — and crying — and hugging — and, uh, sprouting magic flowers — but most important is, he's laughing.

Under other circumstances, Iroh might have derailed the moment, softened the emotions by crooning at the flowers, talking about how much tea they could make with them. He might have even turned harvesting them into a task to distract as needed. Figuring out where they came from... well that would have come later in either case.

But now? This moment?

For this moment he acts as though he is unaware of the flowers all together. Because distraction is not what is needed. Softening this moment, tainting it in anyway... would not be good. For either of them.

So he takes his nephew's hands, reclaiming his attention, looking at Zuko's face, trying to catch and hold his eyes. "Then tell me, my boy. I want to know the whole of it," he said. The first sentence was intense as the emotions of the moment. The second was slightly lighter, said with a smile. A hint of levity. An invitation, but more... a welcome.

"I want to know how you've come to find yourself" a slight pause "here."

Did he mean how did Zuko find himself in that place? Or while they were her he wanted to know how Zuko found himself? He had been deliberately ambiguous, leaving his nephew the freedom to choose which of the questions he was ready to ask.

That, too, would tell Iroh much.

They need this moment, indeed — pure and open as it is, just as it was, and as it is again. But this time, Zuko is filled with hope, not uncertainty; resolution, not apprehension; authority, not acquiescence; and above all, support, friendship, love... mercy. These are wisdoms that came after their meeting in the camp, those budding philosophies actualizing at last — most of these peaceful, compassionate, pacifistic philosophies, indeed planted by Iroh, nurtured by Iroh, shone light on by Iroh. And Zuko's proud to inform him how they've come to fruition at long last. Not proud for his own sake, no — that's not so important to him, in a sense — but proud for Iroh's sake. Proud to prove Iroh right. Proud to show him his successes in raising Zuko to be a good person, against all odds. Proud to put his worries to rest. Proud to be his family. Proud to finally have an answer to the question Iroh had once told Zuko to ask himself, so long ago in Ba Sing Se: 'Who are you, and what do you want?'

He holds his uncle's gaze when Iroh takes his hands and looks into his eyes, smiling at him still. It's a soft smile, the corners of his eyes crinkled tenderly with fondness; more tears are welling in his eyes, but he blinks them away, and gives his uncle a short little nod in agreement, squeezing his hands reassuringly. He takes a deep breath and takes his seat at the table once more, gesturing for his uncle to join him by gently placing one hand on the tabletop. Iroh's gonna wanna sit down for this... There's just something about the subtleties of how Zuko quietly eases into this that promises this explanation is gonna be a doozy. He is so moved and happy to be with his uncle, to have time to truly fill him in on everything that happened when they were apart... but even if this relief and validation made him bloom flowers, he knows the topics at hand are not so lovely. But still nevertheless wondrous.

"The last thing I remember, before I found myself here," he pauses, meeting Iroh's eye to show he caught that double meaning, and is trying to speak to both sides of it succinctly. "...was the palace nurses tending my wounds, the day of Sozin's Comet — I was resting after my Agni Kai against Azula..."

Another little pause, a knowing look — an amuse-bouche to hint at where he ultimately laid his allegiances.

"I don't know if I can say I won... but Azula lost. I managed to save my friend — Katara, that waterbender girl from the Southern Water Tribe. But I couldn't redirect Azula's lightning in time to save myself. Katara healed me... after defeating Azula on her own."

His gaze is a little steelier, letting the implications there linger. Katara defeated a Sozin's Comet-powered Azula essentially singlehandedly (maybe Zuko tired her out first, but come on, it was all Katara) and saved Zuko's life. What's more, the key word in all of this is a simple one: 'friend.'

"When I awake from— all this..." He glances uneasily around, giving a vague nod to gesture at this dreamworld in and of itself. "It will be the morning of my coronation."

Iroh sat when Zuko did, and kept hold of one hand, even as his other hand picked up his tea to sip as he listened.

There was a lot to take in. A lot to sort through. A lot that he had to process. Some now. Some later. Zuko friends with one of the Avatar's friends was on of those things for certain. He needed to compare what Zuko told him with what Azula had said. But that one was certainly to be examined later when he had the time. After Iroh asked Zuko more questions.

But there was something to address now. "I do not think even the Avatar can bring us back from the Spirit Realm if we are dead," he said gently, trying to break the news carefully. Because if the last he remembered was escaping, it was a good bet he had been hunted. Iroh could accept his own death. Had already done so. But Zuko's? He understood. It all made sense with what Zuko said he recalled last. Clearly one of the palace nurses...

There were countless reasons it could have happened. Someone still loyal to his brother or Zuko's sister. Someone who hated the war and didn't see how Zuko had grown, had thought he would be as bad as his father. Or even an accident with no malice, if the damage had been to great. Even Water Bending healing had its limits.

So... they were dead then. All three of them. Well, at least the afterlife had plenty of tea. And time for him and his nephew to... just be themselves. Even if that meant Zuko would never see his own coronation.

He knew he should worry about what would happen to the Fire Nation now, with all of them dead. And maybe he would worry about that later. Right now Zuko was his main concern. For the moment, Zuko was his only concern.

And since they no longer had a say in what happened in the realm of the living... Perhaps there were a few others to find, to settle down... to be in the spirit realm, in death, the family they never truly got to be in life.

His son. He and Zuko could search thee spirit realm and find Lu Ten, and he could be there for both of his boys.

They might have to be dead, but no one said they had to be miserable about it. though he suspected his nephew would be exactly that once it sank in. Well.. Miserable and angry both.

Zuko seizes up, as if washed cold by the waves of Iroh's words. His eyes go wide, brows furrowed. He'd been anticipating explaining why he was friends with Katara, why he was ascending the throne... and instead Iroh assumed he had—

"Uncle, we aren't dead...! We're— asleep. We're dreaming..."

It's a raw panic he feels suddenly, having to explain that. It's not like Zuko's an expert on this realm. He's only been here a couple weeks. But for all he's heard, been told, gleaned for himself — they're dreaming. Unless— that's a lie... to avoid public panic... No, surely not. Surely if they're dead, they'd know they were dead. Right...? He's had the thought before, himself, but it was not long after he'd arrived. He'd since done away with that theory, accepted what he'd been told. He figures this place must have something to do with the Spirit Realm, some interdimensional pocket of it, but there's far more to the Spirit Realm than simply an afterlife. He's dispelled the idea they'd died. But if Iroh is still subscribing to it... His uncle's not— usually wrong... and certainly knows much more about the Spirit Realm than Zuko does.

In the slight pause in his response, the gears turning desperately upstairs can almost be seen behind Zuko's eyes, his gaze fixed on Iroh, increasingly wild and bewildered. But he has to stick with what he's learned, logically. Though, now that he's being called to second-guess it, it's also true that a lot of what he's learned about this place, he's... learned from Azula... But also the tapirs! And books! Eavesdropping on townspeople! But, yes, also Azula. Was it more likely Azula — and seemingly everyone else — have bought into the lies... or that his uncle was wrong?

"Are we?" he asked gently, kindly. He squeezed his nephew’s arm. "I would love that to be true, but we must each examine what leads us to our belief and see from there what it is that might be true. I hope that you are correct, prince Zuko, but we cannot ignore the chance that the worst for us has occurred."

"No, Uncle, I survived, I—"

Zuko squeezes Iroh's wrist right back but with more cling, more need. He knows where his uncle's mind must be. He thinks of his cousin. His face contorts with more earnest.

"...Everything I've been told so far... they say we are in a realm of sleep. You've heard this, haven't you? Those— Those elephant-rat spirits, they told me. They said all was well in our waking lives — I mean, at least, it's as it was before we fell asleep..." A fair enough point. But not necessarily disproving anything one way or another. He ventures another question more cautiously — more hopefully — meeting his uncle's eye with intention.

"Have you— heard differently...?"

"I have not specifically been told differently, but prince Zuko... what here could we ever have dreamed? And if this is a realm of dreams, how is it that I hav stopped and you have continued forward, and your sister to a different point as well? And if this is a dream, which of us is the dreamer? I may have quite the imagination, my boy, but there are things here I simply do not think I could have dreamed up. And yet I think independently. I feel different, yes, but still feel. I find it hard to think I am mearly the figment of someone else's dream, starting only when they are present. And I refuse to accept it of you."

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