"So, I wanted to talk about a few things today," Uncle finally said after a painfully long half hour of dinner.
The atmosphere had been thick with small talk, but now he was ready to get down to business. "First off—Gee, Deyzhi, how's fire magic coming along?"
Gee is only a year older than me, but he's been studying magic for a whole year and a half now.
Which naturally leads to a burning question: Why the hell is he still stuck learning how to read and write like some toddler fresh out of diapers? And he had to fight tooth and nail just for that!
In a world ruled by magic, not having any is basically a death sentence. If this keeps up, he's going to spiral into full-blown existential despair. Magic isn't just power—it's prestige.
Even if it's not official, people with magic get noticed.
Without it, you're invisible.
Worse, you can't even challenge someone to an Agni Kai.
How the hell do you defend your honor without fireballs?
"I picked up a few new techniques. The teacher even said something nice," Gee replied lazily, stretching out his words like he was allergic to conversation.
Clearly, he wanted this meeting to end so he could run off and do whatever mindless thing brings him joy.
"And you, Deyzhi?" Uncle turned to my other brother.
"I've learned three new katas," he said, crisp and confident.
Straight to the point.
Though, if we're being honest, calling what they do "fire magic" is a stretch.
Right now, it's just fancy martial arts routines.
They're barely even playing with sparks.
But in the Fire Nation, even martial arts are technically firebending—go figure.
"Not bad," Uncle Ji offered his royal approval. Then his eyes fell on me. "And you, Takeshi? You've been learning to read and write for a while now. How's that coming along?"
Whoa.
That's new.
Usually, they forget about his existence the moment he sits at the table.
"I can read and write now. I'm learning calligraphy and working on mastering the nuances of our language," he answered smoothly.
Writing and calligraphy aren't the same, by the way.
Writing is just putting words on paper. Calligraphy is making those words look pretty.
At first, he thought it was pointless fluff.
But after spending hours trying to write anything without turning the scroll into a battlefield of ink blots, he realized it was a necessary evil.
His sanity thanks him.
Father, bless his sour soul, grimaced like he'd just announced he was becoming a circus performer.
What's his deal?
He was being productive.
Useful, even.
But maybe... maybe it's time he admit it—maybe he really didn't have fire magic.
Still, he couldn't help but think there's been a mistake.
No person who gets reincarnated shows up
without any powers.
"Hmm. Well done," Uncle nodded, his voice unusually approving.
Wait.
That's weird.
"That's pretty impressive for your age," Ji added, clearly noticing something on my face. "Kids usually don't get through library-level books until their second year at the academy."
Yeah, well… those kids didn't reincarnate.
"What was the last book you read?" Uncle asked, for some reason refusing to let me fade into irrelevance.
Fire Magic for Dummies: The Starter Pack, he wanted to say. But instead:
"The Basics of Breathing for Fire Magic," Takeshi lied smoothly.
That book's been gathering dust for two weeks now.
He's move on to more technical stuff—local sciences, math, philosophy.
But he can't let them know that.
Best to play dumb.
There's wisdom in under-promising and over-delivering.
A quote from some local book, he read.
The adults shared a glance.
There was a flicker of something like guilt or pity on their faces.
"Takeshi..." my father started, trading a look with Uncle and softening his tone—a rare event in itself.
"I'm afraid you don't have fire magic. We performed the ritual. Normally, magic manifests on its own, but… I'm sorry. You won't be a mage."
Takeshi looked around the table.
Everyone was watching, bracing for a meltdown.
A tantrum.
Maybe even tears.
How sweet.
He gave them a shrug and stared at my plate, letting his voice drop just enough.
"I… kinda figured. My brothers were already training at my age. I'm still on the basics. The signs were all there."
Too mature?
Maybe.
But whatever.
Let them think I'm just a thoughtful kid.
"Alright then," Uncle nodded. "That means next year, you'll be going to the academy. Given your progress, you'll skip the first year and start in the second. But you'll need to catch up on some philosophy. The rest will come in time."
"I can already add, subtract, multiply, and divide," Takeshi offered casually.
Please, anything to skip baby math classes.
Uncle raised an eyebrow. "From where?"
"Well… books. Our library has a lot of philosophy books."
Ji smirked. "Alright, then count how many of us are at this table—and how many swords we could be holding."
Was he testing him?
Alas, Takeshi didn't care.
It wasn't hard for him to do so.
While both his brothers were turning their heads, clearly trying to solve the little puzzle thrown at them, Takeshi answered without hesitation.
After all, the number of people here never changed.
Static, like a locked equation: himself, his two brothers, their father, uncle, and the wives. Seven people. And the swords?
Well, if each one held a blade in both hands, that made it fourteen.
"Hm," his uncle muttered, eyes gleaming with something strange—something unreadable.
Even his father caught it. That flicker in the uncle's gaze.
Tch. Yeah, Takeshi didn't like this anymore.
"Then there shouldn't be any problems," his uncle concluded, abruptly ending the conversation.
Fine.
Let them play their little games.
Slow and steady wins the race, right?
At least they told him about magic.
Even though, honestly, Takeshi was convinced they'd messed up somewhere. There's no way he didn't have magic.
It just didn't make sense.
The conversation shifted then, turning into a more open discussion instead of one-on-one questioning.
The latest topic? The siege of Ba Sing Se, currently being led by Prince Iroh.
The moment that name came up, the image of a jolly, pot-bellied old man obsessed with tea popped into his head. Weirdly comforting.
Then, surprisingly, his mother joined in.
She voiced doubts about their ability to take the city, pointing out how quickly Earthbenders could reseal breaches in the wall if pressure let up even a little.
His father tried to hush her—more out of principle than anything—but his uncle actually backed her up.
He agreed the siege was dubious at best, not to mention the sheer amount of resources being dumped into it.
The Fire Nation, for all its industrialization and wealth, wouldn't last more than two years at this rate.
And if there was no real progress in one year, the whole thing would probably get scrapped.
No one wanted to burn everything on what was far from the final Earth Kingdom stronghold.
This entire operation? Most likely Iroh's pet project.
Maybe he knew something the rest didn't—or maybe it was just ego.
It would've made more sense if this was the last city, like it was with the Water Tribe.
But it wasn't.
The Earth Kingdom was still kicking, and resistance was alive and well across the continent.
They might not have had much hope of reclaiming lost territory, but they were holding the line impressively.
Of course, everything would change when the Avatar arrived.
Even without his past life memories, Takeshi knew that much.
The Fire Nation would take the blame. And when you've got a kid with godlike power and a brain that's easy to mold... well, cities could fall, empires could crumble.
The adults eventually moved on, shifting toward talk of "family advancement"—which basically meant cozying up to Azulon's throne.
And honestly?
Takeshi got it.
Reading the history books, it was clear Sozin and Azulon had kickstarted a massive industrial overhaul.
Quality of life had skyrocketed in record time.
The side effects were obvious: aristocracy, apprenticeships—things that should've faded by now were still kicking.
The speed of progress had been absurd. In a single decade, they pushed reforms that would make any bureaucrat in Takeshi's past life break out in a cold sweat.
Universal education, mandatory military service, rapid factory construction—all under the direct hand of the Fire Lords.
Takeshi wasn't a political science expert, but even he could spot the iron grip of a ruler just from reading between the lines.
His past life taught him how to sift truth from propaganda, and this didn't feel like fairy tales.
So who would succeed Azulon? Right now, it looked like Iroh had the crown locked down.
Even if he botched the siege, the man was a living legend, with hundreds of successful missions under his belt.
People worshipped him.
But in the end?
It would be Ozai.
Takeshi remembered that much.
A shame, maybe.
Although... brave warriors rarely made good rulers.
Maybe things wouldn't be as bad as canon.
Time would tell.
For now, dinner was over.
Time to retreat to his room.