Dong~! Dong~! Dong~!
The crisp beat of the night watchman's drum echoed outside, marking the end of the last class of the day.
Inside the classroom, every student stared eagerly at the teacher, waiting for the final word.
The teacher glanced at the expectant faces and sighed. Clearly, their minds were already gone from their books.
With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the textbook onto the podium and said flatly:
"Class dismissed."
"Goodbye, Teacher!"
In perfect unison, the students stood, bowed respectfully, and then—like ducks freed from their cages—rushed out into the courtyard, shouting and laughing as they scattered.
"Class dismissed, class dismissed!"
"Kahn! Want to come play with us?"
"No, thanks."
"Kahn, hey… are you okay?"
"I'm fine. Thanks for asking."
Kahn calmly packed his bag, answering each question with mechanical politeness. After leaving the classroom under the concerned stares of his classmates, he let out a weary sigh.
So troublesome.
The news about his family tragedy had clearly spread through the school. Ever since he was forced to return, everyone had been walking on eggshells around him.
Their sympathy was well-intentioned, sure. But to Kahn—who was no longer the original Kahn—it all felt hollow. He had inherited the boy's memories, but not his emotions.
To his classmates, though, his quietness just looked like lingering grief, so they only became more careful and concerned.
Kahn: ?
After packing up, he didn't go straight home. Instead, he made his way toward the school's library—the second largest in the Fire Nation, only smaller than the royal archive itself.
Students were allowed to enter freely, and lately, Kahn had spent most of his time there. It was, honestly, the only part of school life he enjoyed.
He'd been in this world for several weeks now. The biggest shock during that time?
The Fire Nation had compulsory education. Six years of it, from age six to twelve—completely free.
Though his parents' deaths were tragic, as a nine-year-old, he still had to attend school. Dropping out wasn't an option.
How miserable.
But if he had to pick a time that was even worse, it was the first few days after he'd transmigrated.
Back then, he was completely lost—and to make matters worse, all the household servants had been dismissed.
For nearly a century, the Fire Nation had been waging war against the other nations. Every aspect of their government now revolved around the war effort.
When both his parents died, the law dictated that his assets be seized for state management, and that he be sent to a government orphanage.
So all the maids and guards were dismissed.
And, of course, once the government "managed" your property, you could kiss it goodbye—just like the red envelopes your relatives "held" for you when you were a kid.
Luckily, his late father had been someone of merit—an officer under a very powerful figure.
"Hey, Kahn!"
A booming, good-natured voice called out.
Kahn turned around and saw a broad-shouldered man with graying hair and a thick beard. The man's hairline had long since retreated, but his energy filled the street. His smile was warm, yet his presence was unmistakably commanding.
Now that's what a Bald God looks like.
The man waved cheerfully.
Speak of the devil, Kahn thought.
This was none other than General Iroh—the former Grand General of the Fire Nation, commander of his father's unit, and, more importantly, the Crown Prince himself.
A very thick thigh to hold on to.
As for why Iroh was former Grand General—it was because of a tragedy.
Years ago, Iroh had led the Fire Nation army to besiege Ba Sing Se, the capital of the Earth Kingdom, for an entire year.
Despite his brilliance, the city's defenses held firm. And when he finally breached the outer wall, his only son was killed in the battle.
Overcome with grief, Iroh withdrew his troops. The Fire Nation suffered its first major defeat.
Once called the Dragon of the West, Iroh's unbroken streak of victories ended that day. The defeat shattered his legend and lifted the morale of the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribe, who began reclaiming lost territories.
The backlash in the Fire Nation was enormous. To stabilize the situation, Iroh stepped down from command.
Coincidentally, Kahn's own father, Tate, had also died in that campaign.
Kahn had met Iroh only twice. The first was when the government tried to seize his home and send him away; Iroh personally intervened and protected him. The second time—was now.
Kahn approached and greeted him respectfully:
"Uncle Iroh."
It wasn't flattery. Iroh had insisted on the title himself.
The first time they met, Iroh had been disheveled and haggard, his gray hair and beard making him look much older.
Kahn, trying to be polite, had called him Grandpa—and nearly sent the poor man into an existential crisis.
Later, when Kahn learned Iroh was the Crown Prince, he'd tried "Your Royal Highness," but Iroh had waved it off, chuckling, "Just call me Uncle."
"Long time no see," Iroh said kindly. "How's school life treating you?"
"The library's great," Kahn replied without hesitation.
Iroh blinked, then chuckled. "That's it? No friends? You're not being bullied, are you?"
Kahn snorted. "I have friends. I just prefer being alone. It's quieter."
He meant it sincerely—but Iroh mistook the answer for pride masking loneliness. The old general smiled, ignoring Kahn's protest as he reached out and tousled the boy's hair.
Kahn frowned. My hair…!
Iroh, however, just sighed softly.
Tate, Kahn's father, had been one of his most loyal officers. He'd always felt guilty for the man's death—and after learning that Kahn's mother had taken her own life in despair, that guilt deepened.
That was why he'd taken it upon himself to look after the boy.
He had hoped that school life and socializing would help Kahn heal, but seeing how withdrawn he still seemed, Iroh realized it wasn't working as planned.
Fortunately, he had a backup plan.
"Children grow best when they have good company," Iroh said warmly. "I brought a friend for you today."
He stepped aside with a broad smile, revealing a small boy who had been hiding behind him.
"You two should get to know each other," Iroh said. "This is my nephew—Zuko. Zuko, say hello."
The boy stepped forward shyly, bowing politely.
"Hello… my name is Zuko."