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Author's Note[]

This One-shot takes place pre-LoK

Story[]

He used to think fire was beautiful.

His father taught him the secret of fire, something he learned from long ago. That fire was life, not destruction. His father didn't use firebending too often; only to keep the family warm and if the lights went out. They were poor, but they always had enough to eat.

He was a complex man, one hard to figure out. But he taught his two sons the simplest of things. How to ride a bike, to read and write. But he also taught them to dream, to wish, to love. One of his boys, the one with the green eyes, promised himself to do all those things in life. And so did his brother.

The one with the amber eyes enjoyed spending time with his father, and his younger brother with his mother. His father taught him things that normal people hadn't seemed to know. He taught him that even though stars are far away, they were close enough to give those on Earth warmth and company.

Every time he looked up at the stars, he thought of his words.

One thing his oldest boy noticed was that he never took off that scarf. A dark red one, one that he bought at the dollar store across the street from their apartment. He never took it off. Not even during spring, where snow is replaced with sunshine, and the bitterness is replaced by heat.

In the following months, the boy began to wonder why, why, why? It wasn't like him to get involved in silly things, but this somehow intrigued him. The only reason why he hadn't asked him was because he'd thought that his father would think that he was asking a stupid question rather than a thought-provoking one.

However, one day, he came up to his father, out of the blue and asked him. His father laughed happily at the boy and placed his meaty hand on the boy's shoulder.

"The scarf is special to me, my dear son,"

"But how!" The boy rebuttled. "You bought it across the street for 2 yuans!"

"Yes, it might've been cheap," The man smiled before continuing on. "But it's special for me. I've had it for all these years. It gave me company and warmth, just like those stars

"Even if it's not shiny or expensive, this always gave me warmth,"

After that day, he learned to appreciate the little things he had more. Like his little action figures, which always gave him fun. And maybe his blankets, which always gave him heat on those cold night.

And also his little brother.

Sure, he could be annoying at times, but maybe it was nice to have somebody around. It was a challenge to live with him, but challenges were meant to keep people busy.

When he went to bed, he smiled thinking about his father's words.


The next day is not met with such happiness.

He remembered the flames bursting out of the man's hand, bringing his father down to pavement. The boy had just left his apartment. And his mother. His dear, dear mother, being shocked by lightning.

The boy hid behind a garbage can, afraid to be seen.

He could never forget that monster's eyes.

Apparently, the monster had brought a few other men with him, too. And the boy, scared and powerless, just watched as they took everything away, from their radio to the action figures.

He tried so hard not to burst out in tears.

It was hard trying to explain it to his brother when he came back from school. He was just a little kid, he wouldn't understand. But so was he. He was never taught how to hate and fear.

But he was taught how to value things.

And there was one thing left in the house that he could value; his father's scarf.

And he wore it every day and every night, no matter what the season.

Just like his father.


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