The Blockade protecting the Fire Temple hadn't seen any sort of action since deploying to their position. Zenmi hoped it would stay that way as he dragged himself off of the uncomfortable cot all soldiers had to sleep on. Only those with higher ranks were afforded a nicer bed. They are always smug about that, too.

He was grateful he even had that to sleep on. Thankfully, as a captain, he had his own room.

He grew up as an orphan in the Fire Nation, his home an abandoned hut on the outskirts. Without parents, he had to forage to survive, sometimes even stealing to sustain himself. It was a horribly lonely life... until he found some little kids struggling to do the same thing.

He doesn't know what came over him, taking those kids in. It was hard enough to keep himself alive, let alone five new, hungry little mouths. But their smiles gave his bleak days light, their laughter the sweetest music. The hope in their eyes... he wanted to keep it burning. He wanted them to grow up better than he did.

So, to support them better, he trained himself diligently. He stole glances at works within the schools and taught himself the basics of reading, writing, and math. He was blessed to be a bender, observing every other fire bender's forms to further his own prowess.

When he wasn't training and teaching himself, he was using his ability to keep the kids warm during the harsh winter. Unlike him, they weren't firebenders. They were stronger than the average kid, but they needed him to survive. He'd do anything for them, anything to keep them alive and happy. He was their big brother now.

But times were tough, getting tougher as the war was reaching its climax. Zenmi didn't know much about the outside, didn't know about the other nations and their troubles. But he didn't like the war. War brought pain; war brought hunger. He was sure that this war is what made him and his new siblings orphans.

He hated war.

During the worst of it is when they met a strange old woman living in their same little corner of this bleak world. Despite being dressed in the same rags, looking frail and small, she had a fire in her eyes. She took them in, gave them a place to stay in her slightly bigger hut. The children quickly grew to love her.

She didn't make much, but she had an actual job as a seamstress. Though Zenmi wasn't sure that was her only job. There were callouses on her hands, scars on her arms and legs. Sometimes she'd disappear, reappearing like a ghost. And she was crazy strong for her age, too. Getting whacked on the head for some of his stupid teenage stunts hurt! Was she a retired soldier?

But despite all her mystery, Grandma Ju cared for them. The kids saw a change in their lives instantly, finally able to afford food, have clothing, and live in a better home.

Yeah, home. It was small, but it was loved. Those years, while still hard, were the most wonderful. He reached sixteen, an age he never thought he'd survive long enough to see. All of it was thanks to the efforts of Grandma Ju. So, despite his curiosity, he didn't ask her any questions.

But the moment the drafts for war came in, all young men and women from their small village had to join the ranks. Zenmi couldn't stay with them as he wanted. The only good thing about it was that pay was promised, and Zenmi wanted the money to take care of his family. He couldn't let his grandmother keep pushing herself to take care of them, and stealing wasn't going to cut it anymore.

He hated that he had to steal. He didn't like hurting anyone more than surviving. But this world was cruel, and he'd be damned if his brothers and sisters had to do what he did just to live.

So, to give them better lives, he joined the army. He used his natural skill to rise through the ranks. Now, twenty-three years old, he was part of the "reputable" Commander Zhao's fleet. Putting on the heavy armor all soldiers wore, he got to his duties. The only reason he was here was because the older man recognized his talents. He was grateful for this at first, but the closer he was, the more he saw the ugly truth.

It wasn't often, but his commander would meet with a shady bunch of people, receiving letters, commands, or something of the like. He kept a strange, pearl-like object on his hip. At night, when Zenmi passed his quarters to return to his own, he'd hear strange, heavy breathing, fervent whispers, and crazed ramblings.

He'd quickly leave the area, wanting no part in whatever that was.

More often than not, some of the other, lower soldiers would go missing from time to time, too. It wasn't an unheard-of thing. It happened so often Zenmi didn't pay heed to it at first. The passerby would think they fled, jumped ship and abandoned their post. That's what was written about them in the reports. Gone from sight and memory, a leaf in the wind.

But Zenmi knew better now. He'd seen it. He'd heard it.

It was a late night. Unable to sleep, he decided to go about his usual patrol, look at the stars or something. If he had a Messenger Hawk of his own, he would have taken the extra time to write a letter to his family. But they were for military use only.

Going down into the dregs of the large ship, near its prisons, there were muffled screams. Someone begging for help, only for it to be snuffed out just as quickly. Zenmi hid in the shadows of a storage closet, holding his breath as he peaked through its small gaps. He could hear footsteps approaching, dread filling him as he strained not to make a single sound.

Living as he did, it was a practiced skill. No one wanted to be found after stealing, or worse, by a gang passing through. Hiding was essential if one wanted to live.

He saw Commander Zhao with those shady people again, dragging a husk he was sure had been a fellow soldier across the ground. That pearl on his hip gave off a light that made him sick, but Zenmi held it in. His horror kept him muted, and he stayed in that same spot for hours until he was sure the coast was clear.

His commanding officer was an obsessed man. He was a demon hiding in noble clothes. He made shady deals and did horrid things. People were dying within the fleet, and no one was the wiser.

Zenmi thought that fighting for his country would put food on his family's table and be for a good cause when he was young. He hated the war, but that is what he was taught, what all of them were taught. He saw the lessons they studied every day, he'd trained hard to be able to provide for his found family.

When the war ended, they'd have a future they could look forward to. Maybe he could fulfil his dream of running a farm? When he slept in that small room on that cot, he dreamed of droves of crops growing in fertile fields. He dreamed of full stomachs and silly laughter. He dreamed of coming home to an orchard and a big house full of proud smiles.

But what he woke up to was a mummified corpse being dragged through dark halls, probably tossed into the sea never to be seen again. What was this? This awful thing? The moment he was able, he bolted to his room, which thankfully only housed himself.

He sat rocking himself in the corner for hours, unable to sleep.

The next day, another report was sent. Another officer had 'deserted'. He knew. As a captain, it was part of his job to send the reports.

He promptly vomited, taken to the ship medic for 'seasickness'. When he was truly alone, he let himself cry.

For weeks, he contemplated fleeing the ship. For all he knew, he could be that demon's next meal. But he needed the money for his family. He was miles from any sort of safety.

There was no where he could go.

So, he kept his mouth shut, he kept his routine up. He stayed vigilant. He had to do this. He kept his opinions to himself despite how they ate away at him. He kept his comments to himself when the other captains sneered and belittled him because of his low status upbringing. He had to, to survive, to get those kids what they needed.

Zenmi, despite everything, was a kind man. He tried to show his kindness to the people he met. He did this with those lovely kids, his Grandma, and the few friends he had. But here? Here, kindness was a weakness. When he first joined, he was either met with distain, mockery, or was "disciplined" to act with "fire nation pride". But that was just the other soldiers trying to use him as their punching bag.

Even with his disposition, Zenmi wasn't a pushover. He fought back, every time. He may not be as big as others, but he fought tooth and nail, the same as he did when he was a dirty orphan on the streets. That prowess is what got him this far. He used every method to win, and he followed orders well.

That's what made him a desirable soldier in Zhao's eyes. That's what kept him alive. Zenmi was pretty sure he hated the man and his entire fleet, but he kept that to himself. He listened to every order, not daring to disobey even a single letter of it. He had to endure.

But for how long? Everything felt so disgustingly wrong. It felt like ant roaches crawling beneath his skin whenever the man was near him. He could barely eat, he hardly slept. Zenmi had panic attacks more often than not, keeping in his room when he didn't have duties to fulfil. His discreetness and excellent work ethic is what made him Zhao's favorite captain.

That thought made him want to hurl, but he endured. If he was his favorite, he wouldn't die.

Zhao was a horrid monster, but he was a smart one. Whatever he'd done, he only did so to the lesser-known soldiers. He treated those in his circle with care, unlike the lackey soldiers stuck in the crowded barracks. He kept good relations with those with skills and who did their jobs well. Zenmi, by rising through the ranks and proving his personal worth, had boosted his life from being expendable.

As long as he kept his head down and did his job right, he wouldn't become some devil's next meal. Zenmi hoped his efforts would warrant his promotion. With that, he'd be able to get far away.

Zenmi is an awkward, quiet young man. He was terrified everyday being on this ship. No one else knew. No one suspected. Heck, they even praised Zhao for his strength, which seemed to improve every time someone new 'deserted'. The young man was able to make the connection very quick.

He didn't understand it, but he knew he was somehow getting little dregs of power from his... meals.

Now, taking in the salty sea air, Zenmi stood by his commander as his duty described. He, thanks to Zhao's like of him, was assigned to his ship and took care of the lesser commands. No one could disrespect him here, but none knew it was the most dangerous place to be.

He would give his job to any other if he could. But he was too good at it, and Zhao loved efficiency. Because of his position, he was able to sit in on training among the upper ranks, fueling his own progress. His constant improvement kept him alive, and he needed his life to be able to send money back home.

Their blockade had seen no action. It was quiet, and no other incidents had occurred as of late. Usually, that would allow the young man to breathe, but the Commander had been horridly giddy the past few days. He'd met with those shady guys again. Zenmi didn't know who they got on and left the ship, but they did so stealthily. The only reason he knew was because he was needlessly cautious and observant.

Commander Zhao, thanks to whatever news they brought, had been anticipating something, but nothing happened, yet. The crazed ramblings he'd hear coming from his room intensified. He'd often see the man's cheeks dusted with pink and his eyes dazed as if drunk. But the telling smell of alcohol would never be present, and he gave orders clearly and walked calmly.

Zenmi hoped that his twisting gut feeling was wrong. He closed his eyes to the strangeness, kept his mouth shut unless asking for clarification, and did his job. He hoped nothing happened, and that he'd be able to see his siblings and grandmother again.

That quiet dream was the only think keeping his panic attacks to a minimum.

But the magical, flying bison speeding their way proved his gut feeling true. The rumors painted a clear picture of who that was. Zenmi had to take deep breaths to calm down. But when he turned, he almost panicked again.

The manic smile on the commander's face almost split it in two. His eyes were wild, the color on his cheeks darkening. That weird pearl talisman on his hip slightly glowed in the morning light, and the entire vibe Zhao let off made him want to vomit again.

'B-breathe. BREATHE. What did Grandma teach you, Zenmi? What was the method to calm down?'

He took a step away from his commander as he was lost in whatever crazed stupor he was in. He needed to calm down, he needed to think. What was it? Oh, that method using his senses. He remembered, he could do this.

'I see the clouds, a flying bison, a little fire nation ship, seawater, and my hands. Wait, why was there a ship there? No, focus. I hear the messenger birds chirping, the sea waves crashing, the ship creaking, and soldier's footsteps. I hear Zhao's heavy breathing. I'm going to die, he's going to kill me— No. No you won't. He won't, you're his favorite captain, you do the best job and follow orders well. FOCUS. I can feel the lucky marble from my sisters in my pocket, my helmet, and the rail I'm currently holding for dear life. Is my life over? No, no it isn't. I'm fine. I'm fine. I smell my lavender pouch from grandma and salty air. I can still taste the tea I drank this morning. Breathe in, breathe out. Zhao stopped looking like a lunatic. I'm not going to die.'

He took another deep breath, calm(?) once again. He can't have an attack right now. He needed to do his job, do it well. Calm breaths. Think of home, think of smiles, the lovely dream with an orchard.

'Deep, calm breaths, Zenmi.'

"Are you alright, Captain Zenmi?" Zhao, with a glance of concern, looked over his shoulder. He hadn't even noticed how crazy he'd just looked. It proved how gone this man's mind truly was. How could he not notice how insane he was?

"Y-yes Commander. I'm fine."

"Good." Taking a tool from his side, a telescope, the man gazes through expectantly. As he does, his grin widens, "The Avatar," lowering the tool, that disgusting smirk returns, "And the banished prince. This must be my lucky day. Zenmi."

"Yes, sir?" Zhao's words sparked thought in Zenmi. The Banished Prince? As most fire nation citizens had, he'd heard of the prince, even if it was in passing. Some say he was a coward; others gave him pity. Zenmi thought of the youth with respect.

He'd pieced together a bit of the story of how he was banished, only knowing fully that he was scarred by the fire lord himself.

A father that would scar his son for pride is no father. Whatever the prince had done, it couldn't have warranted that. He'd never known the love of a parent, but he'd seen enough good ones to know that none would ever harm their kid in such a way. From most rumors, people actually liked Prince Zuko, as well as his mother, who'd long since been missing.

"W-what are your orders, Commander?" The poor youth swallowed his fear, masking it with duty. He called on his superior with respect, trying to keep his trembling hands still.

Zhao didn't look at him again, thankfully, only calmly watching his target, "Shoot the bison down, Captain. Ready the catapults."

The young man was shocked. He knew the man was vile, but, "What if the fire navy ship is hit, sir? Is it not one of our own?"

"It is that of a traitor, Captain." Zhao turned to him, his eyes portraying glee as he gently patted Zenmi on his guarded shoulder. The boy stiffened, still as a statue as he smiled at him, "It belongs to a traitor, and traitors are dealt with. Correct?"

Zenmi backed away in shock, staring down at the deck as he controlled his panicked breathing. Despite trying to keep a low profile, he'd somehow ended up as the Commander's favorite captain. Did he follow orders too well? Was it fun to tease him with those subtle threats? Did he know he knew?

No, the ease in which he carried himself didn't reveal any hidden caution. Either that, or he wasn't worried about Zenmi possibly knowing anything. What could a young captain such as himself do?

"Y-yes, sir."

Nothing, that's what.

"Good boy."

Zenmi quickly scurried away before he threw up again. He forced through the nausea, telling the others to ready the catapults. He had to do his job, to keep his life, and take care of his family.

Zhao kept his smile as he waited the few minutes it took, turning to face his targets again. Zenmi had been right in his thoughts about the Commander. He thought the younger man was such a good soldier to have. So loyal and quiet. That silence kept him from knowing that the boy knew his dark secrets.

Zenmi's skittish behavior was natural, as he'd always been a bottle of nerves. Zhao hadn't figured out why given his excellent skills and prowess. If he'd had such a talent in his youth, he'd be boasting until the stars heard him. Zenmi was a tenacious fighter, something one wouldn't expect given his timid nature. But always followed orders, and that was something Zhao treasured in his fleet.

Those that didn't meet his standards served him as fodder for his growth.

A darkness flickered in his eyes, the pearl on his hip flashing in the waning light. He'd met that mysterious clan as he searched for knowledge, and they gave him the keys to greatness. Power, glory, he could have it all.

Once he got a taste, there was no going back for him. He gave them whatever information they sought for more, and they gave him strength he could only dream of. They were searching for someone, a special one who would bring their clan from the shadows. He'd only gotten bits and details, having grown through their ranks for many years now. But the appearance of the Avatar had shown light on where that special one was.

Zhao could taste the power already; he could smell their sweet scent even from far above the salty waves. If he looked carefully through the telescope, he could just catch glimpses of that wonderful, snow-silver hair.

The temptation to take it for himself was simply too... delicious.

Once his favorite little captain nodded, all weapons at the ready in record time as usual, Zhao gave the command, "Launch!"