The Avatar's Guardian: The Lost Story (Avatar the Last Airbender fanfic)

Chapter Thirty

Satomi's P.O.V.
I sigh as I pull on one of Zuko's night shirts. It falls all the way down to the middle of my thighs and envelopes my frame. The dark red shirt is soft and smells like him. The shirt was the easy part though. I groan as I pull the dark red shorts over my hip bones. I bunch up the extra fabric and tie it in a knot to keep the shorts from slipping off me. Another sigh breaks past my lips. All of my muscles ache, and my back throbs. I can't walk or bend. My head thrums in rhythm to my back.

With a soft groan, I rake my fingers through my hair. This is awful. If I didn't know any better, I would say I was getting sick. This-

Zuko knocks on the door. "You finished?" he calls, his voice muffled by the door.

"Yeah," I reply slipping the band back over the glistening brand. He cracks the door open assuring I'm decent before slipping into the bathroom.

"They're a bit big on you," he comments cocking his head to the side. His eyes roam over my form. There's no way he would be able to figure out- "How much weight have you lost?" he whispers lowly. I stand corrected. I peer out the door looking for Iroh. If he over hears this... Zuko pulls the sliding door shut. He leans back against the wall crossing his arms over his chest. "How much weight have you lost?" he repeats.

"I don't know," I whisper back. Zuko narrows his eyes. "It's not that big of a deal," I hiss wrapping my arms around myself, squirming. He sighs.

"You were light when I rescued you from Zhao, and at the north pole you were even lighter. Now you're not even," he sighs shaking his head. "If you don't put on some weight, you're not going to be able to fight. You'll get sick and," he trails off. I raise an eyebrow.

"I know that. It's not like I'm doing it on purpose. The others barely get enough food to scrape by themselves, and they've not been trained to go without food for expanses of time," I deadpan curling in on myself.

"And you have?" he retorts in exasperation. His face begins to color as blood rises to the surface of his skin.

"Yes," I huff, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Look, I've been trained to do a lot of things that an Avatar or a normal person wouldn't be trained in. In physical, I've been trained to function without sleep and food for extensive periods of time while conducting harsh physical activities. I learned several different fighting styles, extensive sword play, and bending. I know how to survive in the wilderness. I know basic medical knowledge, amongst a variety of other skills," I list off without missing a beat. Zuko blinks once before sinking back into himself. That didn't throw him off for long.

"Yes, but you need to take better care of yourself," he scolds, kneeling down in front of me. He begins to peel my shirt up, but I shove it back down, my hands trembling. Too close. "I'm just going to look at your stomach and ribs," he assures me. I shake my head unconsciously covering my scar with my elbow. His eyes follow the movement. "I've already seen your scar," he breathes.

"I didn't know you had seen it. That's different," I trail off looking away from him.

"Satomi," he murmurs brushing my arm with his fingers. My skin tingles where he brushes against it. I lock my eyes back on to him. His scar that never stood out to me before glares at me now. My fingers curl out to brush against it, but I stop myself, curling my fingers back. "It's okay," he assures me. My fingertips feather against the edge of it, and his eyes flutter shut. He's so warm, even against my frigid skin.

Dancing my fingers over it, I feel along the edge and around the outside of his eye. My thumb lingers over his cheek for a moment. I don't think I've ever touched anyone's face before, at least not like this. It feels different. "Sorry," I mumble drawing my hand away to be wrung by the other in the comfort of my lap.