Mwaha

[yukinoomoni]

Another story has been added to Zuzu's Sandbox. Suffer.


Beaten Path

WARNING: Spoilers for Zuko, Alone.

Iroh: Zhao, the Spirits are not to be trifled with!
Zhao: Yes, yes, I know you fear the Spirits, Iroh. I've heard rumors about your journey into the Spirit World.

The death of someone you love can leave a gaping hole in your soul. No matter what you do, no matter how many stories you tell yourself, there is no easing the pain, no comforting the soul.

Iroh knew this.

In his darkest days, he knew this as intimately as he had known his wife, who had passed from him many years before he lost his son. It almost seemed as if he was just getting past that hurdle when Lu Ten was struck down as well. It was enough to make a man wonder what sort of cosmic joke the universe was playing.

It also made a man do things that, in retrospect, were absolutely insane.

But Iroh had had enough. There was nothing akin to the pain he felt when he received the missive that Lu Ten had been killed in the latest raid. It was like his entire being shriveled up and escaped him.

In the moments following the news, Iroh trudged around the ship like a sleepwalker, issuing commands in such a lethargic state that no one had ever seen. Withdraw from Ba Sing Se. Send the news home to the Fire Lord. Retreat and return to Fire Nation waters.

Prepare the body for the journey home.

Once Iroh was finally allowed time to be alone, within his chambers in the bowels of the ship, he was able to breathe, to think, to weep.

And to plan.

Surely this wasn't how it was suppose to be. Surely there was some kind of mistake. Lu Ten had barely been out of his teens. He had barely had his mark on the world. There was some kind of mistake. He wasn't supposed to die. Not now. Not yet.

Not while I'm still living.

When you lose someone you love, you lose your common sense.

That was Iroh's only explanation for his journey into the spirit world. He had lost his common sense, and was desperate to get Lu Ten back.

But it didn't work out the way he wanted.

Getting there wasn't as hard as he had anticipated. Certainly age was a factor, but it was also because, despite these trying times, Iroh had always been a spiritual man. He wasn't a stranger to simplicity, to meditation, and thus slipping between borders wasn't too much of a challenge.

It was finding out what to do once there that ended up being the problem.

He stood in the middle of a marshy grove, one lit by somewhat dim and modest lighting. When he looked up, he saw that the sky was a murky and almost rust-like red. There was no sun, no moon, no stars; nothing he could find that explained the light.

"Oh, it's you."

Iroh slid into a ready stance so quickly he hadn't realised what he was going until he was standing in it. He looked towards the sound of the dry voice and saw what looked like a simian dressed in yellow robes.

He couldn't help himself. He stared. He had seen a lot of things in his lifetime, but he had never seen anything like this.

The monkey-man blinked slowly, looking irritated. "There was some warning that you might show up," he went on, not moving from his spot. He sat beneath an archway, sitting lotus-style.

Iroh carefully eased out of his stance. He put his hands together and bowed. "I greet you, gateway spirit," he said softly, keeping his head bowed.

"Save it," the monkey replied caustically. "I can't help you. No one can. You have to leave."

Iroh struggled to keep his composure. It was one thing to hear it from his men, that nothing could have been done; it was another to hear it in this place, after all that he had gone through to set foot here. He raised his head, his eyes sparking with old fury. "I misunderstood," he replied, his voice thick with his anger. "I had always assumed that the Spirits were wise, and cunning."

The monkey raised what could have been an eyebrow. "You have nerve, I'll give you that."

Iroh smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. "So you know that I have lost my son, and have come here to bring him back." It wasn't a question.

The monkey sighed, then looked up, looking very serious. "Listen; once someone crosses over, that's it; unless they're someone like the Avatar, or like Koh, you can't cross over willy-nilly. You especially are putting yourself at risk, coming here, at your age."

Iroh shook his head. "I would have thought that compared to you, I'd be something of a youngster." He stood up, gave another short bow, and started away from the archway.

The monkey stared in disbelief. "If you get lost here, you might not be able to return!" he called after the prince.

Iroh's eyes narrowed. "That's better than the alternative," he murmured, mostly to himself.

He trudged slowly, carefully, through the muddy shallow waters and the thick sludge of mud. He wasn't sure where he was going, or how he was going to find Lu Ten, or what he was going to do once he found him, but he was determined to do it, regardless.

As he walked, Iroh noticed that the landscape seemed to twist and change slightly with every step. At first, he had thought that it was merely his eyes playing tricks, but he knew better. Occasionally, as he walked, a faint residual of…something…would brush past him, or something would appear at the peripheral of his vision, only to vanish when he looked right at it. There was no rhyme or reason to the place, no real pattern or layout to it.

It was humbling. It was also terrifying.

Only the thought of Lu Ten, the memory of his eyes, the nightmare of his death, kept Iroh from turning from the insanity of this place and leaving it behind forever.

"What do you think you're doing?"

The voice stopped Iroh in his steps, not just because it was stern, and formidable, but because there was a quality in it that was…familiar.

He looked around, only to find that no one was near him.

"You're not supposed to be here yet."

Iroh felt his heart race. For the first time since crossing over, he finally realised what he was doing, the gravity of the situation that had cut through the grief, and suddenly he was afraid.

"Who are you?" he managed to choke out, his eyes narrowed. He held out his hands, ready to firebend if need be, but only a chuckle met his words.

There was a flash from below him; belatedly Iroh realised that the source of the voice had been beneath his feet. It reached up and shaped itself into a tall, regal-looking man.

One Iroh recognised only from paintings. His eyes widened, and he bowed as low as his joints would allow him, shutting his eyes.

Roku smiled. "There's not quite a need for that here," he said kindly. Iroh looked up; the former Avatar looked faded slightly, almost transparent. "Here, we are all equals."

"Avatar Roku," Iroh began carefully, his throat suddenly dry. He kept his hands together, but he raised his head. "I admit that I'm not here on a pleasure journey. I'm here for Lu Ten."

Roku's small smile faded. "I know this," was the reply. "And surely you know the futility of such an attempt."

Iroh took in a deep breath, held it, and exhaled it slowly. It was all he could do in reply to such words. It was that, or let his temper rule and start shouting at one of the greatest Avatars in history.

When he could, Iroh spoke. "I do not know why you have honoured me with your appearance, Avatar Roku, and indeed I am honoured, but my reasons are that of a personal matter. They cannot, and will not, be ignored."

The last words came out angry, but at least he had managed to keep his voice level.

Roku shut his eyes and sighed. "You speak to me as if I am the one who is making a foolish mistake, when you are the one who has abandoned his body to chase a phantom."

The words cut deep. "I'm not chasing a phantom, I'm chasing my son, my flesh and blood!" Iroh snapped.

Roku merely looked at him.

"He is all that I have left!" Iroh continued. He felt himself shaking, felt the grief consuming his guts in waves, and he couldn't clamp down on it. "Without him in my life, I have nothing! There is no joy, no bright light in this hell of war, only darkness! And you, Avatar or not, cannot stop me!"

Now he was shouting, he realised too late.

Roku's eyes narrowed into slits. He was frowning, but he kept himself the image of complete calm. "You seem to truly know your place in the river of life," he observed mildly. "That without Lu Ten, you can't live, nor can you make a difference. But you seem to be forgetting one key issue, one key player, that will factor into your life and give it meaning once more."

Iroh clenched his fists. He was a reasonable man, and was known himself to quote parables and fables, but the irony of having the tables turned while consumed with grief and anger was not something he needed at the moment. "Help me, or leave me."

Roku said nothing. He merely glared back at Iroh.

"You say that there is a life without my son, but truly, you have never lost a child, or else you would not say something so ridiculous," Iroh went on, breaking away from Roku's gaze and looking down. His eyes were unfocused, and they filled with silent tears. "To raise a child, to put your heart and soul into their happiness, to watch them grow and love them and cherish them…only to have them cruelly taken away from you…the pain is too much…"

"So without Lu Ten, you would rather die."

Iroh looked up, feeling helpless. "Yes," he agreed.

"How impulsively selfish," Roku spat. "You would dare ignore my great-grandson because of selfishness?"

Iroh paused, something seizing deep inside of his chest. "Great-grandson?" he echoed. He had always known that Ursa, his brother Ozai's wife, was rumoured to be descended from Avatar Roku, but he had never heard it confirmed.

"Zuko?" he wondered out loud, the name bringing an image of his passionate, clumsy and determined nephew.

If he didn't know better, he would have sworn that Roku rolled his eyes. "Of course, Zuko. The fates, the Spirits, all have paths for us. Grief, anger, sadness, war…these are all inevitable stepping stones on the path of life, ones that force us to see that happiness, love, and forgiveness are twice as important because they are twice as rare. Trying to foolishly take matters so far beyond you into your own hands is folly, Iroh. And you know it."

Iroh sighed, lowering his head. The truth of the words, and their weight, resonated deeply within him. "But what does my nephew Zuko have to do with this?" he wondered absently.

Roku looked at him, and for the first time, Iroh saw a great sadness in the Avatar's eyes. "Zuko has a hard life ahead of him," he admitted. "He will struggle, and need guidance, and joy, in his life in order to maintain his own personal balance. He will need someone to count on, someone to depend on, and most of all, he will need someone to love him for all that he is."

Iroh felt something break, deep in his heart. It was enough to lose his own son, but to know that his young nephew, one who was so light-hearted, so eager to please…was so doomed to disappoint. He couldn't allow his family to shatter more than it already was.

"So you want me to go back," Iroh said softly, "and be there for my nephew."

Roku nodded.

But my son… his thoughts swirled in his mind, warring with his common sense.

"If you do not do this, if you remain here, then the Fire Nation will consume everything," Roku snapped, as if hearing Iroh's thoughts. "They will spread, like wildfire, and will not stop until everything is ashes. And your family will suffer needlessly, all because of your selfishness."

"You do not know," Iroh began again, but Roku's eyes blazed, not just with anger, but with an inner white fire.

"You forget who you are speaking to," Roku said, and Iroh heard it; the echoes of other voices, both male and female. "I have lived hundreds of lifetimes, over and over, experience hundreds of lives, felt hundreds of forms of agony. And yet I still persevere. I will still suffer. I will still be in pain. All for life's sake. You cannot change this!"

Iroh cowered, shaken deep to the core of his soul, by the power and threat in the older man's words. He shut his eyes, knowing that Roku spoke the truth, and knowing that he had to return to a world without Lu Ten, but it was…it was a possibility shaded in grey, and more painful than he could have imagined.

When Roku spoke again, it was with his normal voice. "I understand the pain of losing a loved one," he said gently. "But you cannot ignore the value of your own life. You are needed, Iroh, Dragon of the West, in the world of the living. You must accept this as your path."

Iroh said nothing. He was unable to.

"And when the pain consumes you, when you feel that all is lost, all you need to do is look into the eyes of your nephew, and you will see a reason to live."

Iroh looked up at this, his eyes overflowing. "Zuko," he murmured.

Roku nodded. "Yes," he agreed.

"I have to…return."

"Yes."

Iroh reached up and rubbed his eyes. "My son…"

"You will see again when the time is right," Roku finished. "Until then, appreciate what you have, because you of all people know how fleeting life can be. Respect it, revel in it, and most of all, do not forget it."

Roku reached forward slowly with one hand, and Iroh closed his eyes.

And found himself back in his chambers on the ship. He shivered, frozen to the core, and he reached up and breathed into his hands, his breath of fire bringing warmth to his frozen limbs. It was only when he felt the depth of the cold did he realise how close he had been to crossing over permanently regardless.

He shut his eyes, hunching over. He had more to deal with, he knew. There was the funeral, the cremation, and the fact that he had failed to bring down Ba Sing Se. But all of that seemed distant, too painful to acknowledge, too hot a fire to touch.

Instead, when he closed his eyes and tried to picture his son in his youth, it was his nephew that he saw instead.

And despite everything, it comforted him.