Zuko stepped out of Ain's creaking hut, the brittle bamboo door sighing shut behind him. The heat of midday clung to his skin, yet there was a fire inside him now that no sun could match. Ain's fierce eyes, his crude notes, his trembling mother — it all lit a fuse Zuko hadn't known was still buried in his chest.
He dragged in a deep breath, trying to steady his heartbeat. At that moment, he spotted a figure ahead: a small girl trudging along the muddy lane toward Ain's hut, her shoulders hunched, hair limp and tangled. Nasuha.
Zuko paused. He remembered her face all too well. That night, when the High Council's carriage rolled past his window — the muffled cries, the wine-soaked laughter of the old mages dragging Null girls into the brothel's back door. And there she was: this same girl, her eyes glassy under the torchlight.
He shook his head, banishing the memory. It was poison he didn't want in his veins right now.
"Hei," he called, forcing a smile as he stepped closer.
Nasuha froze mid-step. She looked up, and for a split second her wide eyes held no recognition — then they darted to Zuko's fine cloak, the polished boots, the golden trim still clinging to his frayed noble garb.
Her breath caught. The world seemed to squeeze around her as she stumbled back, her thin knees giving way. She hit the mud with a wet smack, arms hugging her chest as if to hide herself from eyes that had already stripped her soul bare.
"No! Please! I didn't… I won't—" Her voice broke into a hoarse shriek. She trembled so violently that the dirty scarf slipped from her head.
Zuko's hand flew up in alarm. "Wait— no! I'm not—"
He knelt to help her up, but before he could touch her, a shadow slammed into him. Ain shoved him back, stepping between Zuko and the girl.
"Don't," Ain growled, his eyes cold as the metal gates that caged his people.
Zuko raised both hands, palms open, but his mouth hung dry. Nasuha clung to Ain's side, her face buried against his threadbare tunic, her shoulders hitching with sobs that barely made a sound.
Ain's voice cut through the silence, harsh yet low enough to shield Nasuha. "You think she wants your noble hands on her? Look at her, Zuko. She's not scared of you. She's scared of what you wear."
Zuko's heart squeezed painfully. He stepped back, looking at the girl — really seeing her this time. The bruises that purpled under her sleeves, the raw fear still coiled like barbed wire in her eyes.
He couldn't breathe.
Ain's mother appeared in the doorway, her thin arms opening just enough for Nasuha to stumble into them. Ain gave her one last look, then turned to Zuko with a blade of frost in his voice. "Leave her be."
Zuko stood rooted for a moment, then wordlessly turned away. His boots squelched in the mud as he walked down the narrow path. Around him, the slum stretched out like a festering wound — crumbling huts, emaciated faces, children fighting over a stale crust of bread.
How did they breathe in this? How did they live knowing this was all they'd ever get?
Ain's rough voice pulled him from the darkness. "Zuko—?"
Zuko spun on his heel, grabbed Ain's arm with a grip that dug to the bone. Ain tried to yank free but Zuko held him there, eyes blazing.
"What the hell are you doing?" Ain hissed.
"Something you can't do alone," Zuko spat back. "You want to change everything? Then come with me. Right now."
Ain's brows furrowed. "Where? Into the city? You want me dead? If they catch me past the gates they'll skin me alive for fun."
Zuko's lip curled into a half-mad grin. "They won't touch you if you're with me. I still have the name Hearthfilia stitched to my throat — and I'm going to use every thread of it."
Ain hesitated, glancing back at the hut. Nasuha's muffled sobs drifted out into the oppressive heat.
He turned back. "Fine. But if you get me killed—"
"Save your curses," Zuko barked. "You'll need them for the nobles."
***
They marched through the dirt lanes to the massive iron gates that split the Null slums from the Holy Stone City proper. Towering walls loomed overhead, topped with spears and rows of enchanted crystals that pulsed with faint blue mana — enough magic to kill a hundred Null in a blink.
Five armored knights leaned on their spears, eyes half-lidded in the heat. The second they saw Ain, they straightened — snarling like dogs catching a rat in the grain.
"Stop there!" The lead knight barked, leveling his spear at Ain's chest. "Nulls don't cross the gates. Drag him back—"
Zuko stepped forward, pulling a small velvet pouch from his cloak. It jingled with the hush of gold coins. He flicked it in the air — the knight caught it clumsily.
"House Hearthfilia business," Zuko said, his voice dripping with bored nobility. "He's with me."
The knight looked at the coin, then at Zuko's eyes, then at Ain's filthy tunic. He spat to the side, but stepped aside.
"Fine. Five minutes. If we see that thing running—"
Zuko clapped the knight's shoulder so hard the man almost toppled. "You won't."
***
Inside the gates, Ain froze. He'd seen the city from a distance — its gleaming towers, cobbled roads, mana lamps that flickered to life at dusk. But to stand here, on clean stone streets, while the sun gilded every polished sign and merchant's stall… it felt like stepping into a cruel fairytale.
The passersby noticed him instantly. As Zuko strode confidently through the market road, Ain skulked behind, drawing gasps and sneers. Perfumed ladies lifted their hems to avoid his muddy footprints. Merchants tugged their children away. One man pinched his nose theatrically and spat at Ain's feet.
Zuko ignored it all. He marched Ain to a massive wooden building ringed with steam: a bathhouse. Above the doors, gold letters read Jasmine Springs – For Gentlefolk Only.
Ain balked. "What is this—?"
Zuko grabbed his shoulder and shoved him through the doors. Inside, warmth and perfumed steam wrapped around them. Attendants in crisp linen froze when they saw Ain.
"A Null?" one gasped. "Get out! This is a sacred—"
Zuko slammed a handful of gold onto the marble counter. "He bathes. Now."
Silence. Then, grudgingly, the attendants led Ain past rows of marble pools, each steaming with heated spring water. Nobles gawked openly as Ain stripped his ragged shirt and lowered himself into the water. Gasps, curses, but none dared approach Zuko.
For the first time in his life, hot water touched Ain's skin. Filth he thought permanent melted away. He scrubbed, scoured, until raw patches stung. Zuko lounged at the edge, kicking water at him like a smug older brother.
"You look like a half-drowned dog," Zuko laughed.
Ain splashed him back. For a heartbeat, the slums felt far away.
***
They left the bathhouse only for Zuko to drag Ain into a cramped barber's shop. Within minutes, Ain's matted hair fell away in heaps. His face emerged: sharp eyes, clean jaw, no longer hidden behind years of grime. The barber eyed him warily but did his work in silence, glancing at Zuko's coin purse often.
Next, Zuko hauled him into a tailor's stall. Fine linen shirts, sturdy boots, a brown coat that might pass him off as a poor apprentice — not a Null to be spat on.
Ain looked at himself in a polished brass mirror and barely recognized the boy who had once fought over moldy bread.
***
They ended at a general store near the city gate. Zuko bought sacks of rice, dried meat, barrels of clean water, bolts of cloth, old shoes — so much that it took ten ox-carts to hold it all. The shopkeeper nearly fainted at the pile of gold Zuko dropped on the counter.
***
When they returned to the gates, the same guards squinted in disbelief at the mountain of supplies.
Zuko shoved another pouch into the lead knight's hand. "Open it."
The iron gates yawned wide once more.
***
Back in the Null slum, word spread like fire. Ain and Zuko stood atop the carts, tossing bundles of bread and bolts of fresh cloth to the hungry, the half-naked, the forgotten.
Children who once fought for scraps now laughed with sticky rice on their cheeks. Mothers wept over warm blankets. The hopeless eyes of the old flickered with something fragile: trust.
At the end of it all, as the sun dipped low, Ain sat beside Zuko on the edge of an empty cart. The world smelled of steam, bread, and muddy hope.
He looked at Zuko, voice low. "Why? Why do this? You're a prince. Why pretend to care?"
Zuko didn't look at him. He watched the children run barefoot through the mud with new shoes still tucked under their arms.
"I'm not pretending," he said quietly. "I'm just… trying to remind myself that people are people. Even when the palace forgets."
He turned, met Ain's eyes, and a ghost of a grin tugged at his lips.
"I'm just trying to make humans human again."