*。☆。
★。＼｜／。★
˚ ₊ ♡ ❰ MIRACULUM ❱
*✧ ─── ❝ ❪ ALL ROADS LEAD TO BA SING SE ❫ ❞

⋆ 🌪. CHAPTER TWENTY ONE ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
˚ ₊ ♡ 112 a.a ─── book two: earth

FULL MOON BAY WAS IN A WAY A STARK REMINDER OF THE WAR. THE HARBOUR, BUILT INSIDE A SECLUDED cove in the East Lake of the Earth Kingdom was still a secret from the Fire Nation. The narrow exit from which Ferries came and went was operated by a dozen or so earthbenders— it reminded her of the waterbenders of her home who stood and patrolled the wall of ice that protected their city.

A small glimmer of sunshine slivered through a gap in the ceiling, casting a dim glow on the weary travelers huddled together in scattered groups across the rocky alcove.

The sight of them made Uki's stomach tighten. Some sat in silence, their backs pressed against crates and sacks filled with whatever meager belongings they had managed to salvage. Others rested on threadbare blankets, their children curled up beside them, exhausted from the journey.

She adjusted the strap of her own bag and took a deep breath before stepping onto the drawstring bridge. Carefully treading after Iroh and Zuko onto the ferry.

The refugee ferry was an ugly thing—hulking, worn, built for function rather than comfort. The air smelled of brine and burnt coal, and the distant chug of the ship's engine pulsed beneath their feet like the sluggish heartbeat of some dying beast. Its wooden hull was lined with lanterns that would flicker dimly against the night air. The wooden deck of the ship creaked beneath their boots as Iroh, Zuko, and Uki moved in silence, weaving through groups of weary passengers.

A few of them had probably never seen someone from the Water Tribe before.

Finally, Iroh came to a stop at the railing. He exhaled, deep and heavy, as if he could spill his weariness into the water.

Uki stepped up beside him, resting her forearms against the worn down wood. The wind tugged at her hair, sending loose strands whipping against her cheek, but she didn't bother tucking them away. Below them, the dark water stretched out in every direction, vast and indifferent. She took a slow breath, inhaling the scent of water and damp wood. It reminded her of home—of the icy sea surrounding the Northern Water Tribe, of nights spent listening to the icebergs groan as they shifted in the currents.

But home was far away now—like a distant memory in the fog.

And never would she expect to be side by side with two prominent figures of the Fire Nation.

If only her parents—or Yue could see her now.

"Who would've thought after all these years I'd return to the scene of my greatest military disgrace... as a tourist?" Iroh mused, his voice laced with amusement. With a flourish, he placed a large straw hat on his head, complete with a pink flower tucked into the brim.

She sighed through her nose. Of course.

Before she could respond, movement nearby caught her attention. A crew member was handing out bowls of food—if one could call it that. The watery broth sloshed weakly against the sides of the wooden bowls, speckled with something that might have once been vegetables.

Still, food was food.

Her stomach grumbled at the sight of the meager bowls of soup.

She stepped forward, offering a small smile as she accepted three bowls and carefully made her way back to her companions. "Here," she said, handing them out.

Zuko barely acknowledged her as he took his, his expression sour. "Look around," he muttered darkly. "We're not tourists. We're refugees."

He brought a spoonful of soup to his lips, took one sip—then promptly gagged.

"Ugh." He held the bowl as far away as possible, as if it had personally wronged him.

Uki rubbed her temple, a tired sigh escaping her lips. Spirits give me strength.

"I'm sick of this," Zuko snapped, shoving the bowl onto the railing with enough force to slosh liquid over the edge. His gold eyes burned as he glared out at the dark water. "I'm sick of eating rotten food, sleeping in the dirt," Zuko continued, his frustration boiling over. "I'm tired of living like this!"

Before he could spiral further into his rant, Uki grabbed him by the sleeve and yanked him closer, eyes flashing. "Listen, you little—"

"—aren't we all?"

The unexpected voice cut through the air, and Uki hesitated, her fingers still curled around the rough fabric of Zuko's tunic.

Leaning against a wooden pillar beneath the shaded ramada stood a teenage boy, his posture relaxed, but his gaze anything but. He had sharp, wolfish features—tan skin, shaggy dark brown hair and arched eyebrows. A piece of straw stuck out of the corner of his mouth, shifting slightly as he smirked.

"My name's Jet," he said, that lazy smirk widening. He flicked a casual hand toward the two figures standing behind him. "And these are my Freedom Fighters—Smellerbee and Longshot."

Smellerbee was small, wiry, with wild brown hair and round eyes. She wore red face paint across her cheeks and wore a blue headband across her forehead, her sharp eyes studying them carefully. Longshot, a taller boy with a pointed hat, stood silent, his bow and quiver full of arrows slung across his back.

"Hey," Smellerbee greeted, her tone neutral.

Longshot inclined his head in silent acknowledgment.

Uki returned their nods, flashing a quick grin, but the moment was interrupted as Zuko yanked his sleeve free from her grip with a sharp tch.

"...Hello," Zuko grumbled, barely sparing them a glance before turning away.

Jet, undeterred, stepped closer, a glint of mischief flickering in his eyes. "Here's the deal," he said, voice dropping to something just above a whisper. "I hear the captain's eating like a king while us refugees are choking down scraps. That doesn't seem fair, does it?"

Uki bit the inside of her cheek, her gaze flickering toward the upper deck where the captain's quarters loomed.

"What sort of king is he eating like?" Iroh asked curiously, tilting his head.

"The fat, happy kind," Jet replied smoothly. "You wanna help us liberate some food?"

Zuko stared at the sloshing soup in his bowl for a moment. Then, without a word, he turned and chucked the entire thing overboard. It hit the water with a soft plunk, swallowed instantly by the waves. Then, he turned to Jet.

"We're in."

Uki blinked. "We are?" she questioned, crossing her arms skeptically.

Jet's smirk widened—until his eyes landed on her clothes. His gaze swept over the dark blue fabric, the fur-lined edges, the unmistakable signs of her Water Tribe heritage. He shifted the straw between his teeth before speaking again.

"You're Water Tribe."

Uki's chin jutted out slightly, her ice-blue eyes narrowing. "I am. What's it to you?"

For the first time, Jet's cocky grin faltered, if only briefly. But he was quick to recover, flashing a charming smile. "Nothing—I just knew a waterbender once."

Uki returned the smile, but there was an edge to it, something cold, something sharp—like a shard of ice catching the light. Dangerous.

"Then you know not to mess with us," she stated, her voice smooth but firm.

Jet let out a short chuckle, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "Noted."

But Uki wasn't fooled.

Jet did't seem like the trustworthy-kind. And she'd bet her last drop of water that he could become pretty dangerous.

THE LATERNS SWUNG IN THE NIGHT AIR, CASTING DIM SHADOWS ALONG THE WOODEN walls of the ferry, a single windchime that hung beneath the ramada faintly clinked a soft melody. Uki stood, bathed in a mixture of shadows and pale moonlight—waiting. The gentle lulling sounds of waves crashing against the hull of the ships was comforting.

Besides her, Jet and Zuko slinked more in the darkness—Jet crouched atop a crate, one knee drawn up, chewing lazily on the stem of straw that never seemed to leave his lips. He looked completely at ease, as if this were just any other night. Zuko, on the other hand, stood rigid, his golden eyes burning as he glared off into the distance. Uki wasn't sure if he was focused on the mission or just seething at the universe in general. Probably both.

Then—a whistle. Low, sharp, precise.

Uki tilted her head, the sound carrying just enough warning to set her on edge. She caught the glint of metal as Longshot shifted his bow from his perch across the deck. That was the signal.

A smirk tugged at her lips. Let's get to work.

She shrank further into the darkness, moving like smoke toward the higher level where the captain's quarters and the kitchen loomed above them. Jet and Zuko followed, their footfalls muffled against the groaning wood.

The trio crept toward the kitchen door—the one Smellerbee had scouted earlier, feigning nothing more than a casual stroll around the deck.

Jet scanned the area once more, then reached for the door handle. He jostled it.

Locked.

Of course it was. Uki sighed through her nose, already anticipating Jet's next move as he reached over his shoulder, fingers curling around the hilt of his hook-sword.

Before he could so much as draw the blade, she stepped forward and shoved him aside.

"Watch this, pretty boy." The condescending tone made the nickname all but complimentary.

Jet raised an eyebrow, but he leaned back, gesturing for her to continue with an infuriating smirk. Zuko, to his credit, didn't say anything, though she swore she caught the briefest flicker of annoyance in his eyes.

With a flick of her wrist, Uki uncorked her waterskin. Cool liquid spilled into her waiting palm, shimmering faintly in the low light. She guided the water into the lock, feeling out the inner mechanisms, and with a simple twist of her fingers, she froze the gears solid. A second later, she clenched her fist.

Crack.

The frozen lock splintered from the inside, and she pressed her hand to the handle. It turned easily.

She shot a look at Jet, smug.

He whistled low under his breath. "You're full of surprises, aren't you?"

She arched a brow. "Try to keep up."

Jet grinned.

Uki slid the water back into her pouch and stepped into the kitchen first. The smell of stale bread, overcooked fish, and oil filled her nose. Shelves lined the walls, stocked with ingredients hoarded by the crew. Large cooking pots sat abandoned on the counters.

Perfect.

She didn't waste time. Her hands were quick, plucking dried meat, rice, anything that could be carried easily. Jet moved past her, snagging a sack from the floor and stuffing it full of food.

They moved in silence, but then—

A noise.

The unmistakable shuffle of boots.

Jet froze mid-motion, his head snapping toward the door. Uki's breath went still in her lungs. Zuko tensed, fingers tightening around the handle of his sword.

A second later, the door creaked open.

A tired cook stepped in, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, muttering under his breath. He didn't even look up at first.

Then he did.

His gaze landed on Zuko.

A beat of silence.

Uki moved first.

She surged forward, catching the man's collar in a vice grip, and before he could utter a sound, she yanked. His head cracked against the doorframe, his eyes rolling back as he crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

A long pause.

Jet blinked. "Huh."

Zuko nudged the fallen man with his boot, unimpressed.

A warning whistle echoed through the night—Smellerbee

Uki exhaled sharply, rolling her shoulders. "Let's go."

Jet grinned. "You're fun."

She ignored him, tossing a sack of stolen food over her shoulder before slipping back into the shadows. The crept along the deck, and hurried along toward the railing where Longshot shot a precisely aimed arrow toward the wood.

The arrow buried itself into the wooden railing just past them with a sharp thunk. A length of rope trailed behind it, taut and waiting.

Without hesitation, Jet swung the stolen sack of food over the edge, watching it slide down into waiting hands below. One after another, the bags disappeared into the night, swallowed up by the shadows of the lower deck.

Now it was their turn.

Jet flashed a grin. "Ladies first."

Uki arched a brow. "How generous of you."

Then she leapt.

Her hands caught the rope easily, her boots finding purchase against the side of the ship as she rappelled downward. The wind rushed past her, tugging at her clothes, her ponytail whipping against her back as she descended with practiced ease. Her feet hit solid ground just as Smellerbee reached for her, steadying her balance.

"Move," she said under her breath, already stepping aside to make room for the next.

Jet followed, sliding down effortlessly, as if he were born for this kind of reckless maneuvering. He landed lightly, rolling his shoulders back with ease. Then came Zuko, slower, more precise in his descent—like he didn't trust the rope the way the rest of them did, didn't trust anything he couldn't control with his own two hands. He landed heavily, his golden eyes flashing as he pulled away from the rope, looking immediately back toward the upper deck where a completely unaware guard walked passed.

"We need to go," Smellerbee hissed, already shifting the stolen sacks.

The stolen food was gone before anyone could second-guess how it had been acquired, passed from hand to hand with whispered thanks and relieved sighs. The refugees took the bowls carefully, like they were something sacred, their fingers trembling from hunger and exhaustion. Uki met their eyes as she handed out the last of her share, offering quiet reassurances, soft smiles.

Most of the Freedom Fighters did the same, exchanging words of comfort, murmuring promises that Ba Sing Se would be different. That things would be better there.

Zuko, however, had slipped away the moment they began. Uki caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye, his broad shoulders vanishing into the shadows—most likely in search of Iroh.

By the time she returned to the side of the ship, the others were already gathered. Iroh had a bowl in his lap, his eyes gleaming in the lantern light.

The Waterbender smiled at Longshot as he handed her a bowl before she perched herself between Smellerbee and Zuko and across from Iroh who smiled warmly at her return.

"So, Smellerbee," Iroh mused, turning toward the mousy-haired girl with a curious tilt of his head. "That's an unusual name for a young man."

Uh oh.

Uki barely had time to wince before Smellerbee stiffened beside her.

"Maybe that's because I'm not a man. I'm a girl!" she snapped, pushing to her feet.

"Oh, now I see!" Iroh called after her, ever cheerful. "It's a beautiful name for a lovely girl!"

Smellerbee didn't dignify that with a response. She stomped off, Longshot trailing silently behind her.

Jet took her place in front of them, grinning. "From what I hear, people eat like this every night in Ba Sing Se. I can't wait to see that giant wall for myself."

"It is a magnificent sight," Iroh agreed.

Jet's brow arched. "So you've been there before?"

"Once," Iroh said, his voice quieter now, more measured. "When I was a different man."

Jet frowned slightly, turning his attention to his food. "I've done things I'm not proud of too. But that's why I'm going to Ba Sing Se—for a new beginning. A second chance."

Iroh nodded, the lines around his mouth softening. "That is very noble of you. I believe people can change their lives if they truly want to. I believe in second chances."

Uki glanced at the old general, something stirring in her chest. She had the distinct feeling he wasn't just talking about himself.

Her gaze flickered to Zuko.

He was still staring at his bowl, jaw tight. The firelight caught the sharp angles of his face, painting half of it in shadow, the other half in a flickering golden glow.

Perhaps Iroh was onto something.

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