Life loved its ironies; Zuko had been the one who was overshadowed by his prodigy sibling, and now he was the prodigy doing the overshadowing. He knew just how much it hurt to be compared to someone who had so much more talent than you – to feel that no matter how hard you try you’ll never catch up.

It was an awful feeling – to know that in the eyes of your father, you had been born inferior.

At three years of age, Sasuke was deemed old enough to begin his basic introductory training, and it soon became apparent that he couldn’t match up to his older brother’s genius. Fugaku wasn’t a terrible father – he was miles ahead of Ozai, but then again, wasn’t everyone? – and he never once voiced his disappointment aloud.

However, while he wasn’t the worst father, he also wasn’t the best. A fact which was constantly proven when he praised his eldest child’s achievements and was noticeably silent about his youngest.

Ironically, it was Sasuke’s struggles to match up to his older brother which endeared him to Zuko, after so long of being wary and keeping him at an arm’s length.

Their parents – especially their mother – were relieved. To them, Zuko had finally gotten over whatever illogical hang-up he’d had about his younger brother. Shisui rubbed it in his face that he had been right, knowing all along that Zuko would eventually end up liking Sasuke.

Zuko himself was just thankful there wouldn’t be another Azula.

Azula had been a very special kind of crazy that Zuko was sure no one could possibly replicate. I mean, what were the chances of Sasuke growing up to have two friends – one perpetually cheerful and the other repressed but secretly extremely moody – then put together a team to chase him across the nations and try to kill him?

Having reassured himself, Zuko eased up on the Sasuke-boycott and allowed himself to talk with the kid without over-analysing his every movement. Now it wasn’t an uncommon sight to see little Sasuke toddling after his older brother and begging for training, his previous cold behaviour forgotten by his young mind.

When he wasn’t being stalked/worshipped by his younger brother, Zuko could be found either training with Shisui or preforming dull, tedious chores for rich, lazy people who could afford over-priced, super-powered brats to pull weeds from their lawns for them.

Life as a Konoha gennin wasn’t nearly as exciting as it was cracked up to be.

However, this actually reassured him since Zuko was sure that if he was in charge, he wouldn’t send out preteens on important missions either.

(Sure, he had been part of a group of teens that had saved the world… but that was entirely different, honest!)

With his faith in the common sense and sanity of the world somewhat restored, Zuko learned to enjoy his time spent gathering garbage from the river, painting fences, chasing demon cats, and babysitting various snotty kids of important parents.

Ok, so enjoy was a bit of a stretch, but at least he didn’t hate it. If he had actually been his age Zuko would have lost his patience by now, but he was an old man at heart even if he had regained the vigour of youth when he was reborn. Patience was something he’d learned after many long struggles, and he didn’t mind waiting to go on more exciting missions.

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

So when his team graduated from over-priced handymen to over-priced bodyguards, Zuko was sure it would be equally as boring. Afterall, they were only a ceremonial team to guard the Daimyo, the actual protecting would be done by ANBU. What could possibly go wrong?

----------------------------------------

There is a point in life where everything seems to fall apart. For some, it’s caused by an excess of teenaged angst when you first get dumped and it’s like the world is falling down around you. You’ll look back later on in your life with the benefit of hindsight and realise that you’d been overreacting.

But for others, the world really can and does end in a single day. For Zuko, it happened the day his father branded him with a half-burnt face and subsequently banished him from all he’d ever known.

(Yeah, Ozai was a dick.)

For Uchiha Itachi, his idyllic second childhood comes to a close when his teammate is cut down by a man in an orange mask.

He comes out of nowhere and there is no hesitation when he kills Tenma, who is just twelve years old. Zuko has seen many atrocities. Atrocities committed by the Fire Nation, by the Earth Nation, by the Water Tribes. Monstrous behaviour is not limited to nationality. If you are human, you are capable of the greatest evils.

Zuko has seen children die before, but it has been so long since those days. Konoha is peaceful, and his world before was as well - had been for decades.

He had forgotten how horrible the sight of dead children was.

Zuko still hadn’t fully mastered wind elemental manipulation, but he had progressed leaps and bounds since he’d first started. The basics of air manipulation were available to him without handsigns, and his control over wind jutsu was even better than some jounin.

The Uchiha spun through the handsigns he’d long since committed to muscle memory and the wind stirred, swirling into twin dragons that shot forward in front of him. As they passed him by, Zuko breathed out and scorching fire ignited the dragons and made the beasts swell in size, tripling the shape and exponentially increasing their deadliness.

His entire view of the horizon was swallowed by the firestorm, ignited and scorched to ashes in mere seconds, the inferno engulfing the masked figure as well. The roar of the technique thundered so loudly it drowned out even the thumping of his heart in his ears.

The man stood before him, absolutely untouched, not even a hair out of place.

But Zuko had seen it. Even through the blinding light of the blaze he’d created, Zuko had seen him. He didn’t weather the attack; it had passed straight through him. The masked man only leaves after ANBU reinforcements approach, and he is so quick Zuko cannot even see him move.

He can do nothing. He is powerless before this man.

He had forgotten how all-consuming weakness could be.

(Screaming beneath his father’s flames, burning burning burning)

----------------------------------------

Konoha is as peaceful as ever. The crickets chirp in the evening air, and his lungs inhale the scent of forest that pervades the village. As Zuko sits on the hard wood of his house’s porch, he knows that this peace is a lie.

It has been decades since Zuko had been so thoroughly beaten. Only Uncle Iroh had been capable of kicking him around so easily, but Zuko had never taken that to heart because the retired General has been able to school Aang just as effortlessly. Zuko suspected that Iroh could have held his own against the entire group of them, but thankfully, the Dragon of the West had let them keep some semblance of pride and had not beaten down the saviours of the world.

Small child-sized fists clenched in frustration.

He had underestimated them. He’d underestimated everyone, this world. He had been… arrogant.

Elemental mastery would not be enough. His prodigious stealth that he’d had even in his past life would not be enough.

Zuko needed strength. He needed power.

Red eyes with two spinning tomoe stared out of his face with burning resolve.

He had forgotten how horrible the sight of dead children was.

Now he will never forget.