Shozu

There was something incredible about it. For nearly a year we'd been here, and still, the great wall of Ba Sing Se stood tall, not even a dent having been put in by our rows, upon rows, upon rows of artillery.

Bombarding it for so long, spending taxpayer money with every shell we fired, only to see nothing more than a few pebbles fall, only to be replaced immediately after.

And when breaking through hadn't worked, we had tried to go above.

And it had cost us. Cost me so many.

I refused to do the numbers. I couldn't bring myself to do it. Not even 24 hours ago.

Their bodies are still out there, buried underneath yards upon yards of rubble, and there isn't a damn thing in the world we can do.

That was what tore at me most. I was their squad leader. I was their commander. This wasn't how it was meant to work. If anyone was to die, it was to be me. Then the next most experienced would take over in my stead, and a replacement would follow.

That was how it was meant to be, not…not this, not me looking off into the distance at the wall that had killed so many of my own.

There was something incredible about that wall, and I wanted to tear it down. To tear it down until nothing was left.

It was completely silent that night. There were no celebrations among the Dragon's Host. Those who were dead, they were silent. Those who alive, they were no different. All they wanted now was to sleep. To sleep before the war continued again, before we learned what had gone wrong, and would come to spend the next few months, or even years, trying the same thing all over again on a prayer it would work this time.

The silence was only broken by a shuffling of footsteps behind me, myself turning to find the figure of a man I knew all too well.

All at once, it didn't quite seem so horrible. I knew it was a selfish emotion, but a part of me regretted to admit that I was glad that, of those who had died back there, Gordez hadn't been one of them. It was hard to explain what exactly it was, only that, with him, the world felt as though it made some degree of sense.

"Hey Gordez," I said with a soft smile as he came to a stop behind me, unsure whether to advance right away. Timid as ever, I thought. Or maybe he's just deliberating on how much distance to give me right now. I hid a soft smile, knowing there was a good chance it was the latter. Always considerate, even when unearned. "You got something for me?" I asked.

"The wounded are all accounted for. Got them spots in the infirmaries. They'll be taken care of."

"How bad are they?"

"Zek's wing is clipped and Haz's face is pretty messed up, but they'll recover, they say. They don't think Chero's going to make it though."

Damnit, I cursed to myself. We'd lost enough already. Now him too? I would have much preferred to curse aloud, but held myself back from doing so, only able to sigh and nothing more.

"If, that'll be all, sir, I'll get back to camp and-"

No. Damn appearances.

"No," I stopped him. "It isn't. Please, take a seat."

Gordez looked towards me, confused, as I only turned back ahead to face the wall where it lay ahead, a black shadow in this half-moon night. I wondered if I would need to convert my request into an order to get him to obey, but soon enough, he took a seat beside me on the earthen ground.

Even now, almost a full day later, it still felt as though I could feel the earth shaking beneath me.

"Do you still feel it?" I asked Gordez. "The ground shaking beneath you? Just like those walls?"

Gordez was silent for a while, wondering if he truly wished to give an answer, but, in time, he did. "Yes," he admitted. "Still can."

"Can you hear their screams too?" I knew I could. I still heard Aizo's voice in my mind, telling me we had to cut the chord and get the hell of the wall, interrupted then by his head being blown to a pulp by a flying boulder directed straight down towards us at a speed even beyond terminal velocity. Perhaps the gurgle that had come from him in the same moment he had lost his mind was the most disturbing sound of all. Just having last less than a second, it was still embedded in my mind, playing over, and over, and over again, refusing to get out hard as I tried to will it away. "I still hear them," I continued. I don't think they'll ever go away."

"You can't let it get to you," Gordez said. "You start dwelling on it, letting it eat away at you, then you'll never get out of it,…Boss."

There was hesitation in him speaking it, as though it was unsatisfactory, as though it meant nothing.

If only he knew what it really meant.

"You always did hate calling me that," I observed. "Didn't you?"

"Of course I do," he responded, switching to the present tense to ensure there were no illusions in when in time his hatred was situated. "It's idiotic, you know."

"Not sure if I agree with you there," I answered. I didn't want to argue. Not now. That was the last thing I wanted.

"Is it not? Because it always sounds to me like it's just there to satisfy their own need to remind others that you're in charge."

Is that how he thought of it? The others, at that? Was it a surprise, even? I called myself "Boss." How else was that supposed to be interpreted.

"People are dying out there for you, and you can't even give them the pleasure of knowing who really is leading them. You're just too caught up in your damn need to remind them who's in charge!"

"It's not to remind others that I'm in charge!" I countered, perhaps louder than I had intended, by a good amount. The exclamation had certainly achieved one goal at least in taking Gordez aback. He hadn't seen it coming, and, frankly, neither had I. Notwithstanding, I did have his attention, and it would have been a waste to stop now. "It's to remind myself." Am I really saying this? Now of all times? And why to him? Why to Gordez? Then again, why not to him? Why would I tell it to anyone else? "If I…If I keep on thinking myself as just like them, I won't be willing to do what it takes to keep them safe." What it took to keep them safe, be it putting my life on the line, that of others, if I didn't believe it my responsibility, then how could I ever be capable of helping anyone?

There was a short silence, Gordez seeming to take only a small moment to take in what I had said, a look of genuine surprise on his face as though he hadn't expected to get a real answer from me.

"You are just like them," he finally said. You're only human. You can't hold yourself to something higher and mightier than the rest."

And he still doesn't understand. I had prayed he would, prayed I wouldn't have to go deeper into it, but I had already begun, and there was no turning back now. And besides, if I was to be completely honest, I didn't want to end the discussion here for fear of the conversation ending and lacking any more reason to keep him around. So instead, I tried again.

I turned my head down towards the rank pauldron that was situated over my shoulders, the one bearing my rank insignia, that of Staff Sergeant. "You see this?" I asked him.

"Staff Sergeant," he observed before turning his eyes back up to mine, a look of what could only be described as disgust on his face. The look took me aback, for sure. I don't know what he had taken it as. Does he think I'm pulling rank on him? I asked myself, suddenly realized it must have come across like that.

I endeavored quickly to clarify what I had said, now saying, "This means that there are people beneath me." Shit. That's not much better, now is it? "This means that there are people who, when their lives are on the line, when they are under heavy fire, when they are moments away from death, will look at me, expecting me to know what to do, to tell them what to do, to save them, to lead them." And today, I had failed in doing just that. "When they see the mark on my armor, they believe me to be more than them." And that was the curse of it. The rank I held, there was no glory to it. It was not a privilege, no. It was a responsibility. A responsibility of lives put into the palms of my hands.

"But you're not." Gordez added.

And he's right. "But I'm not, but I have to believe that I am." Because what happens when I no longer do? "If I don't I fall apart. And if I fall apart, it doesn't just mean my life." I turned towards Gordez to meet his eyes with my own. "It means the lives of those I care about."

The command I held-it was no gift. I wanted him to know that. I wanted him to know that, when I called myself 'Boss', it was not because I wanted to exert some selfish will. It wasn't for the others, it was for me.

And I realized then that I had never considered the consequences.

Gordez received his answer. He no longer appeared angry at me, but, nonetheless, he felt defeated. I think a part of him was angry that I had a reason behind what I did. He was counting on me not having a good reason, on it being something he would be able to deconstruct, however long it would take.

But here we were, himself having surrendered to my reasoning, and so it was.

Maybe, at least with some, that illusion need not dominate.

I sighed, and broke the silence. "Shozu," I said.

He turned to face me at the sound of the name I spoke. I think he knew what I was saying, but didn't quite believe it. He required verification. "What?" he asked.

Is this my out?

Am I really saying it?

Yes. I am.

"My name," I confirmed. "It's Shozu."

And there it was, nothing more to hide, not from him anyway, I had said it. And there it was, what I think I had been waiting to see since he'd sat down next to me.

He smiled.

And I think that was where I knew.

Of course, it would take me a little longer to act on it, but at the very least, I had made up my mind that night.

And in those final moments, that memory comforted me. Even as my eyes squinted open to reveal that shadowy figure standing above me that I knew to be death in it's final form made manifest, I felt at peace.

I had fought.

I had done everything that I could to protect those I loved, and I had to believe that they had made it. I had to believe that they were out there.

No. It wasn't only belief.

I knew.

And that was where it stood. I fought all my life, but now, it was over, and 'Boss' could finally rest.

I closed my eyes, and for one last time in my life, I knew what it felt like to be Shozu once again.