♰ ͲᎻᎬ ᎻᎬᎡϴ ᏆΝ ͲᎻᎬ ᎠᎪᎡᏦ ♰

Chapter 2: The Disappointment

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚

The scent of damp earth filled the air as Zuko stepped into the dense forest, his boots crunching on fallen leaves. Evening had already fallen, and with it, the shadows of the trees stretched long across the clearing, merging with the growing darkness. Ahead of him, a large, worn-out tent loomed-a place Zuko both dreaded and knew all too well.

The tent belonged to his father. Kaito Takashi, once a top-tier hero known as Blazing Inferno, was a living legend, though not for reasons that filled Zuko with pride. His father was a towering figure of power, discipline, and merciless ambition, having retired not due to age or weakness, but because his thirst for perfection had finally turned inward-to his son.

Training with him was grueling, unforgiving, and more about punishment than growth. For Kaito, nothing was ever enough. Zuko's quirk wasn't the fiery, destructive inferno that his father commanded. Instead, it was something different-a mix of fire and shadow, and that difference was something his father despised.

Shadowflame-that's what Zuko called it. But to Kaito, it was nothing more than a watered-down version of what Zuko should have been able to do.

The air inside the tent was thick with heat, the canvas trapping the warmth from Kaito's earlier fire-based exercises. Zuko hadn't even fully stepped inside when his father's voice cut through the air.

"You're late."

Zuko's stomach tightened as he ducked under the flap of the tent. His father stood in the center, his broad frame silhouetted against the dim light of the lanterns scattered around the space. Even in the poor lighting, the sneer of disapproval on Kaito's face was clear.

"I was training in the city," Zuko muttered, doing his best to keep his voice neutral. His heart was racing, but he knew better than to let that show. Weakness, in any form, was unacceptable to Kaito.

"Training?" Kaito's voice dripped with disdain as he turned to face Zuko fully, his arms crossed over his broad chest. "Is that what you call it? Running around with that spark of electricity you call a friend? Or perhaps you were too busy playing the hero to some school children?"

Zuko clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. It was the same thing every time-every little thing Zuko did was picked apart and criticized until it felt like he couldn't breathe.

"He's not just-"

"He's weak," Kaito interrupted, his voice like a slap to the face. "And weak people will drag you down. You don't have time to play around with those beneath you. You're supposed to be preparing to surpass me. And yet here you are, wasting time with worthless distractions."

Zuko's fists tightened further, his anger bubbling up. Distractions? Denki had been the one person who didn't treat him like a burden or a tool. But saying that out loud would only make things worse. His father had no patience for anything he deemed unworthy, and that included Denki, friends, or anyone Zuko tried to trust.

"Show me what you've been working on," Kaito demanded, stepping back. "Let's see if you've made any progress at all, or if you're still floundering."

Zuko exhaled through gritted teeth, stepping into the center of the tent. His hands, already trembling with frustration, moved into position. He had to focus-he couldn't afford to lose control now. He closed his eyes for a moment, shutting out the weight of his father's gaze, shutting out the memories of every failure, every insult.

Inhale. Exhale.

When he opened his eyes, the tent was bathed in a soft purple glow. Dark flames danced at his fingertips, curling upward like smoke. The flames weren't just ordinary fire-they were infused with the shadows around them, giving them a unique, ethereal quality. Zuko's body began to glow with the strange, dark energy, and the shadowflames spread, enveloping his arms, his shoulders, his chest.