"That's the path to the dark side."

Her mother’s child, he’d thought. A wave pattern gifted from the Water Tribe, proof of her rich heritage. Zuko looked to his left where Katara was sleeping.

It had been an agonizing 14 hours of labor. 

Zuko and Katara had been in the middle of a romantic husband-and-wife escapade around Caldera, enjoying a quiet summer morning on their way to have breakfast at their favorite bakery, followed by a stroll around the lakes with the breeze caressing their faces. It was a habit they had gotten to follow every Friday since they started officially courting. 

They should’ve predicted this could happen at any moment. Parading away from the Palace past her due date would only mean uncertainty and surprises. Katara didn’t have time to reach the plaza with the marble fountain before her water broke in the middle of the street. It was the couple at the apothecary’s—a middle-aged man and woman with two teenage daughters who had been accepted into the Royal Guard’s pilot training program—who helped Katara return to the palace and alert the staff, along with Zuko.

Word soon spread that the royal heir was already on the way.

The maids and Northern Water Tribe healers that had moved from Agna Qel’a to the Fire Isles ran in hurried circles to prepare the bed and a basin full of warm water in the unused Fire Lady’s chambers, which from that day and on would be used as their children’s nursery. Lady Katara had requested a water birth—bathed in the comfort of her element; nurturing and healing for her body and soul. The water provided protection and tranquility, relief and trust. 

Zuko had refused to leave Katara’s side for the entire process. During dilation, he sat on the bed with her and read Fire Nation poetry to calm her nerves and ease her, something about nature and birds that she hadn’t really paid much attention to; he prepared her tea and held her body with his when she was becoming restless and fidgety; when contractions were too strong and too sudden, he massaged her legs and arms with the warm hands of a firebender; and when the time arrived to give birth, with the balcony open and the sunset rays streaming in from the horizon illuminating the room, he warmed her basin and held her hands tightly as she pushed, kissing her sweaty hair and whispering words of love and encouragement to her ears.

They welcomed their child on a silent late summer evening, right around that time of the year when the wind starts to get cooler and the sun shines with his last breath, preparing to hibernate until spring comes. Uncle Iroh had called it a surprise from the spirits, a gift from Agni, and Tui and La. Zuko knew it had been a romantic reunion after one of Katara’s long trips to the Southern Water Tribe and a nightstand empty of contraceptive tea. 

Both possibilities were equally well received.

They weren’t not looking for a baby. At that point in his reign, Zuko could allow destiny to decide for him. 

The Fire Nation was stable, having already divided the legislation, adjudication and executive power among his council and gradually dismantling absolutism, reparations distributed among both tribes and the Earth Kingdom; and Katara had established her waterbending school in the South, achieved equal waterbending rights in the North and opened numerous hospitals in both the Fire Nation, her home and all the colonies, on top of her work as the Ambassador prior to marriage. The couple had been maintaining balance together with the rest of Team Avatar. They could afford to be reckless, let themselves go and whatever happened, happened.

And now, with the Moon hanging high in the sky and the gentle breeze making its way into the room, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the wakening small bundle in his arms. 

His daughter blinked slowly and let out a big yawn. Zuko smiled at the gesture, a sense of tenderness flamed his heart and fluttered in his stomach. She stretched her short arms towards his face in her sleep and placed her right arm, the one closest to his body, on Zuko’s naked chest, right over the scar left by Azula’s lightning bolt. 

Zuko lifted his left hand and extended his index finger towards her own, and she instinctively wrapped her little fingers around it. The first formal greeting between the Fire Lord and his daughter, the Crown Princess. Her small, soft and wrinkled fingers reaching out for him transmitted relief and peace. 

This child was a symbol of tranquility and love in a world he’s been building with his friends and his wife for twelve years; she is the epitome of innocence and purity. 

It is then when he realized that his daughter didn’t have a name yet.

“Lu Ten if it’s a boy. And…” Katara was pensive. She really had no clue about how Fire Nation names were supposed to work. Lu Ten was the only name she was familiar with—one that would honor Iroh’s late son, a name fitting for a prince the same way he would be. They had already discussed the possibility of naming their son after the former Crown Prince, but she couldn’t think of a single traditional female name that would have any emotional weight for Zuko. Now that she was part of the family tree, Katara had memorized the names of Zuko’s ancestors—his grandmother Illah and great-grandmother Hazei, and Sulan and Huazo, and all the women who had given birth to a succession of Fire Lords. But no, that wouldn’t make sense. There was no point in looking back at the past. This was their chance to make a change. Katara, and Zuko alike, refused to continue a lineage steeped in blood and suffering just to follow the nation’s customs. “Do you think it would be proper for our first child to have a Water Tribe name?”

Zuko looked down to where Katara rested her head on his left shoulder and nudged it. “You are Water Tribe and this is your child, Katara. What did you have in mind?”

“What about Kanna for a girl?”

He laughed. “Isn’t it too soon to pay homage to your very alive grandmother?”

“Is it?” She smiled innocently. “So…” Katara brought her hand to her neck and touched the necklace her mother had passed down to her.

Zuko was hesitant about bringing up the topic of names, especially ones that tribute a deceased loved one. It was a bit of a delicate topic. He wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to name his heir after a member of her family. Not because he didn’t want to embrace Katara’s culture by having a half Water Tribe child with a Water Tribe name be in the throne of the Fire Nation—that issue had already been discussed from the moment they decided to get married—it had more to do with his family, the same one that led to the genocide of all waterbenders in the Southern Water Tribe. It wasn’t his fault, that much he knew already; but no matter how much he redeemed himself and apologized one thousand and one times for things he didn’t do. 

Would Kya be a good name for a daughter who would eventually become the future Fire Lord? How much more selfish could it be to sit her on a throne that had seen so much destruction, bearing the name of an innocent that died at the hands of the Southern Raiders sent by Azulon? Her own grandmother.

Katara raised her head and placed her lips in the juncture between his ear and collarbone. She sensed that something was wrong. Zuko’s legs trembled under the covers, and his eyes were lost and fixed on a single point in the void. She sat up and took Zuko’s cheek in her hand. “What are you overthinking about Zuko?” 

He raised his other hand and touched hers beneath his. Her skin was colder in his hold, the touch of a waterbender against the warmth of his firebending. He brought her hand to his lips and made eye contact. They were sitting on their bed, naked save for their undergarments, with only their legs covered by a thin silken sheet on a June night.

“Listen, I–”

“What if we look for something original instead?”

Katara had pondered about different options after that conversation. “It’s better if we decide on two names soon,” she had suggested. One if it’s a girl, and the other if it’s a boy. Simple. “Azuka? No, it’s too similar to your sister’s name. Kazumi? Kozu?” She sighed in defeat. “Zuko, you know more about ancient script or whatever. Cooperate.”

Actually, there was no decree that regulated how the heirs to the throne or any other member of the royal family should be named. Ozai had adopted the habit of naming his children after an ancestor, as is the case with Azula and Zuko with their grandfather Azulon; but it wasn’t a custom that dated centuries. “I think one character is enough, love,” he threw in the air. Zuko hadn’t really thought much of it. 

He shook his head and leaned back in the plush chair to rest his head against the headrest. Choosing a name for their baby was turning out to be harder than writing a report or sitting through a two-hour council meeting about whether or not it was a good idea to build a public university in the middle of Caldera. Katara thought it was a good idea, though. But now she was asleep, and he had no way of asking her if she had finally decided on a name or if they should discuss it for a while longer.

With a little squeak, the baby opened her eyes fully and fixed her tiny eyes on him. Zuko let out a tiny gasp of joy and smiled brightly. He thought he could feel tears brewing in the corner of his eyes. 

What greeted him was a wave of warm amber, like a dark shadow of yellow or golden brown. It was the color of the crown he wore on his head—the one that his daughter will wear one day when he’s old and wrinkly and too busy chasing grandchildren around the gardens to care about meetings or scrolls and whatever more; when she is old enough to succeed him at bringing peace into the new world where she was born. 

Too soon for that Zuko, he deadpanned, interrupting his fantasies.

He was fascinated by his daughter, by her eyes so much like his own, but also like Ozai’s, Ursa’s and Azula’s. Katara had mentioned that babies aren’t born with the eye color they’ll grow up with; instead, their eye color changes as the weeks go by. Her mother had told him that he was born with light brown eyes—very similar to the color his newborn daughter had at the moment—but that Azula was born with the golden eyes characteristic of the family.

He greeted this sight back with his own, a mirror of himself resting quietly but curious in his forearms. His daughter had inherited the color of the Fire Nation sunset. It was the color of flames, the color of the honey from the bees in the forests northeast of Hari Bulkan. It reminded him of the yellow hibiscus flowers and the sunflowers that grew on Ember Island during the summer, the ones in bloom now; and the ash bananas cultivated in the shores of Hing Wa, or the expanses of wheat and corn fields cared for by the farmers all around the Fire Islands.

The Fire Nation owed its rich variety of produce to the quality of its soil. Volcanic soil is rich in minerals contained in the porous dry lava that make the lands fertile. Fertile soil nourishes the seeds of sustainment; it produces food and also provides with more seeds that grow into more food. Those seeds grow thanks to the water springs that flow from the mountains from the aquifers hidden beneath the rock. It’s a cycle of fire, earth and water. These springs are essential for agriculture, as they provide a natural source of fresh water to irrigate the crops.

Zuko’s eyes widened in realization. Izumi.

In the Fire Nation modern script, “izumi” is the designated name for a water spring; the water that flows from the mountains and from deep within the earth in the ranges and nourishes the countryside. It’s a fountain of life, a spring that cleanses and renews. Zuko remembered studying the origin during his lessons as a kid. 

泉 (izumi), nine strokes of the quill. It can also be written as 和泉, the kanji 和 meaning “harmony” or “peace” are common for toponyms. 

Izumi means “spring” or “freshwater fountain,” a natural water source. The name is usually translated as “fountain” in reference to natural springs and shall not be confused with a man-made fountain 噴水 (funsui). Izumi 泉 is a combination of the old Fire Nation verb 出づ (idzu) meaning “to come out” and 水 (mi) meaning “water.”

The name izumi reflects a connection to nature, which is a significant aspect of Fire Nation culture. Water is revered in many aspects of life, symbolizing life, renewal, and the cycle of nature. The imagery of a spring or fountain can also evoke feelings of freshness and vitality.

Water. 

Like the kind Katara bent every night of the Full Moon in the turtleduck pond next to the apricot tree in a ceremony of push and pull that answered her call. Her arms marked the path it must follow; whether frozen or liquid. A dance of the waves. One movement—fluid—then two, then three. Right leg forward, knees bent. A flick of the wrist and the water levitating in response, floating around her body as if they were one and the same, a single being. Her braid falling down her back like a cascade caressing her back. Eyes closed, mouth slightly parted and brows furrowed in concentration.

“Do you think it would be proper for our first child to have a Water Tribe name?”

Water is the element of change. It’s free and stubborn, making its way through every nook and cranny it can find. It never stays still in one place. Water cleanses and heals, but it also erodes and destroys everything that stands in its way until it breaks through, no matter what stands in its path. Water doesn’t follow a set course; it finds its way wherever there’s an opening and spreads out until it fills everything in its path. Always against the rules, always transforming.

After all, Fire Lord Zuko married water, its master and embodiment. Katara was the oceans, the seas, the rivers and the ponds that guide Zuko on his journey toward change. His fire will burn everything that was harmful and her water will cause the seeds of change to flourish once again.

Fire is the element of life, but water sustains it as long as there is a source to keep it alive.

“I think one character is enough, love.”

Izumi shares a syllable with his own name in Fire Nation script, the phoneme “zu” is similar to his own 祖 in 祖寇 (zŭkòu), meaning “the ancestor” in ancient interpretations of the word. Although, in reality, rather than giving him a name with a meaning befitting a royal son, his father was seeking the approval of his own father, Azulon, by naming his firstborn after a variation of that name. That is likely why his mother used a different spelling in formal letters.

But Zuko was his name. It was a proper name for a revolutionary and a reformer, not a cold-blooded murderer. Or at least that’s what both his mother and his wife have been trying to convince him of. There was nothing wrong with following a new tradition when he could make it his own. A step forward, a sign of better times ahead. Zuko wanted to live on through the legacy he’ll leave for his daughter and share it equally with Katara. To be remembered through time as people who were willing to put an end to one hundred years of war and transform it into harmony and peace—like water that springs from a land of fire and cleanses everything in its path without regard for what lies ahead, merely changing its form and leaving its mark on time—and that is exactly what the name Izumi means.

Life, harmony, peace, and the tranquility of flowing water. A bright future built on sacrifice and love.

And Zuko thought that if he was the Sun and Katara was the Moon, their daughter would be the Earth; Izumi, a spring that wells up from its very depths and overflows with life, wisdom, happiness, protection, and exceptional beauty that nourishes everything in its path, always safeguarded by warmth and light in an eclipse that will last for centuries. 

She will be someone that is both hers and his, born from the union of two souls intertwined by destiny and fated to find each other across lifetimes. They will live on in her very existence, a piece of each found in the meaning of her name that history will remember.

“What if we look for something original instead?”

Zuko looked back at the sleeping baby in his arms, still holding his index finger in her tiny hand. “Izumi.” His daughter will be named after her mother, but also after him.

“Izumi? Sounds like Zuko. I like it.” 

Zuko looked up to the source of the voice. Katara had woken up from her nap, her lids still heavy with lingering exhaustion. Even though she gave birth in the water and was treated by the healers from the north, it was impossible to heal the draining process of childbirth. Her instinct prevented her from falling asleep after such immense task. Just as it was over and the midwives placed the baby in her arms, Katara began to breastfeed. He recalled her soft smile at the life she and Zuko had created together—the fruit of the love and passion they had shared for years. So as soon as the baby was satisfied and filled, Zuko picked her up in his arms to rock her to sleep.

He stood up from the chair with his index finger still in Izumi’s hand, and circled the bed to sit down next to Katara over the covers, right by her left side so she could take a better look at the child.

“How are you feeling?” He asked.

Katara let out a soft groan. “Nothing hurts. I’m just tired.” She rubbed her eye with the back of her hand and chuckled. “I think I’m ready to nap like a newborn.”

She took a look at the baby resting in Zuko’s arms, wrapped around the blanket her grandmother had knitted just a few months ago, when she visited Wolf Cove to spend a few weeks with her family. Her grandmother had insisted on sewing a blanket for her great-granddaughter with polar-bear wool and seal skin. Katara wasn’t actually opposed to this idea, it was just the circumstances. Kanna’s hands trembled with the signs of age and years of manual labor weighting heavily on her body; and although Katara didn’t doubt of her grandmother’s ability to weave and work with fabrics with tenacity and skill, she knew that this was a more personal and emotional task for her—an act to honorably take over for her late daughter-in-law.

How I wish it could’ve been you mom, she sighed, to be the one to knit a blanket for your granddaughter, just as Gran-Gran knitted one for me and Sokka.

In the South Pole, it’s tradition for grandparents to provide their grandchildren with a blanket and a pacifier. The grandfather would go out alone to hunt and skin the animal, which would then be used to make Blood soup and steamed meat for that day’s dinner, while the grandmother would knit the blanket and choose the soft bone that would become the pacifier. Katara and Zuko had traveled together to Wolf Cove in the Fire Lord’s private airship, along with a small group of guards and staff, for the celebration. It was their second visit in nine months; the first had been to share the news with their family, along with Sokka and Suki and their young son.

Gran-Gran had also knitted a blanket similar to the one wrapped around her daughter for their nephew, with a turquoise and aquamarine pattern that blended the green and blue colors of both parents’ homelands into a design featuring mountains over the blue ocean.

Katara wondered about this baby, born of the Sun and the Moon, of flames and ice, of dragons and koi fish, of volcanoes and icebergs. A daughter born of the union of two nations; of two lovers chasing different dreams and walking opposite roads, forbidden and at war against each other and with themselves, people divided by apprehension but building a path together towards freedom. A symbol of unity and peace, of new beginnings, and of the freedom to pursue whatever one’s mind is set to, regardless of the rules or expectations.

Izumi was a bridge between nations, the beginning of a new journey. Within her resided the will of the South Pole and the Fire Islands—a daughter of fire and water embraced by the spirits of Agni, Tui and La. She will wear her father’s colors, but also her mother’s. Red and blue, gold and silver. She will learn to meditate, but also to hunt and sledge. She will swim on the beaches of the islands, but the polar breeze of the coldest winters will also caress her face. On her cheeks will shine the coldest and warmest sun, and she will learn to become one with the water and unleash her inner fire—or neither; that doesn’t matter.

But one thing was certain: the burden of war wouldn’t rest on her shoulders. She will reach out her arms toward the freedom her parents fought to achieve, and her future will be as pure and bright as her very existence.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” Zuko marvelled, breaking Katara’s train of thought. 

She is, with her rosy lips and full cheeks. Katara noticed then that Izumi’s eyes were open and looked at her hand around Zuko’s finger. “I didn’t even try,” she answered with mocked deflation. “The resemblance is uncanny. That’s a Fire Nation royal baby.”

Zuko let out a soft chuckle and kissed her temple. “She’s just a newborn, my love. Aren’t you the one who said babies change over time? I bet you she’ll inherit your frown and your pouty lips.” He turned his eyes to look at her mouth and leaned down to kiss the corner of her lips. “And besides, she has your curly hair.”

Katara couldn’t do anything but glower. 

Izumi chose that moment to start weeping. Her eyes moved from side to side, her hand never letting go of Zuko’s finger. She must be hungry again. Katara immediately took her in her arms and opened her camisole, pulling her close to her right breast so that she could feed, and Zuko immediately switched hands to give Izumi his left index finger before she started missing her father’s touch. Quick reflexes. Right after, she latched onto her mother to start drinking.

With her free hand, she began to stroke the baby’s face, just as Zuko had done minutes earlier. His free arm outstretched around Katara in an embrace, circling her shoulders and bringing her closer to his chest. He was absolutely enamoured by the sight of his wife and daughter, together in his arms and sharing a moment of tranquility; his world condensed into that very instant. Zuko felt his chest swell with adoration—an emotion so different and intense from anything he had ever felt before and that he never would have thought he’d experience, much less he’d deserve. It was a feeling that filled him from within, as if his heart had expanded to make a space for his daughter to occupy. A genuine, pure, and sacred love; a love that sprang from the depths of his soul, flowed through his heart, and shone in his eyes. 

His uncle was right: loving with a father’s heart is unlike anything else. His eyes now gazed upon his family with pride and joy. He was now a man at peace with the world.

He rested his cheek against the top of Katara’s head and let the minutes tick by, admiring his daughter feeding while holding his finger. 

“She won’t let go of you, huh?” Katara teased. “At this rate she won’t need her pacifier, she’ll just hold your finger.”

“I don’t mind. It keeps me grounded while she hypnotizes me with her eyes.”

Katara giggled. She raised her head to look into her husband’s eyes. They’re almost the same shade as the child in her arms and it filled her with warmth, lucky to be the receiver of such pure and sincere affection. Oh, to be the Moon and be loved by the Sun, to be locked in an infinite embrace with a sky full of stars and heaven as witness. 

“So, Izumi. It sounds beautiful. You finally figured out the dilemma with the writing or is there a darker secret behind her name you can’t reveal?”

Zuko thought about it for several seconds. It was true that he had chosen the child’s name for his wife—a water name that, even though it wasn’t originally from the Water Tribe, would carry the same meaning. The fact that it also happened to match his name was completely coincidental. It was almost as if that was their child’s destiny to share a name with both parents in equal measure. Izumi—a name created specifically for her.

She let go of her mother’s breast in that same instant, now full and satisfied, surely ready to continue her nap. Katara adjusted her camisole and cleaned Izumi’s mouth with her sleeve, then the baby snuggled gently into her arms, still holding her father’s finger, and yawned. She was so delicate, and fragile—the most adorable and beloved child of the Fire Nation and the Water Tribe. 

Their moment was briefly interrupted by a sudden knock on the door. The healers and the midwives had left the couple alone for privacy in the moments following the birth, with the baby cleaned up and all the necessary tests completed to ensure she was healthy. After that, Zuko had given the order to only allow family into the room. 

Uncle Iroh’s head peeked through the door; his face was completely hidden by a smile from ear to ear that almost completely obscured his eyes, and what little hair was left on his head had more white than gray, but he made up for it with a thick white beard typical of the royal men that he had trimmed over the years to reach only past his chin. In his hands he held a rectangular burgundy velvet box. Behind him stood Ursa, with her hair pulled back into a bun that let the rest of her whitening shoulder-length hair fall over her shoulders. Her face was also plastered with a bright smile that showed the signs of maturity that come with age, yet she was still a radiant and beautiful woman in her early fifties. Both were dressed in Fire Nation casual clothing.

“May we come in?”

Zuko detached himself from Katara and stood up, slowly removing his finger from Izumi’s little hand. She was in a too deep slumber to miss her father’s presence around her. He held a finger to his mouth and gestured to them to come in with his head. Ursa stepped forward and crossed the room to place her hands on Zuko’s face, her eyes glazed over and filled with pride. Then she leaned in to focus on Katara, who was lying on the bed with the newborn in her arms, and marched to her side. Next stood Iroh, his palm resting on Zuko’s shoulder and turning around to set their eyes on the women by the bed.

Before them, Ursa and Katara were whispering to themselves. His mother had one hand on Katara’s temple, brushing away the stray hairs that had stuck to her head when Zuko had his cheek pressed against her. Zuko heard her mother speak more clearly then. “Oh, who do we have here?” She reached out her finger to stroke the baby’s face, who then stirred and moved her head to press herself closer to her mother’s chest. “She’s all full rosy cheeks,” she grinned at Katara. 

“A little girl, how delightful,” muttered Iroh with kind eyes.

Izumi slowly opened her eyes again to look around following the new voices in the room, only to close them again and fall asleep for good. Ursa let out a small breath in astonishment when she noticed the baby’s eyes. A distant, fleeting memory flashed through her mind from the day Zuko was born, flooding the deepest parts of her existence—memories of a moment when she was happy and she didn’t feel like a bird trapped in a cage too big for her. And now, when time flies by at lightning speed, it is his son who has become a father to a perfect reflection of himself.

Iroh took his hand off Zuko’s shoulder and walked over to the bed, leaving the box he had brought with him over the table beside Katara’s bed. “We received a letter from your family. They said they had long passed the Air Temples, so I’m certain they will dock in no time.” Hakoda had planned to set out for the Fire Nation when Katara’s due date came closer to share the moment with his daughter and the family. They would take a ship along with Kanna, and Sokka and Suki with their son, who were staying at Wolf Cove that week. He clasped his hands together and grinned. “They will be ecstatic when they learn that the Princess is finally here.”

He reached out his hand toward the blanket covering the baby and placed his hand on it; then, with his finger, he traced a path up to her face and gently stroked her cheeks. At the contact, the baby seemed to have smiled in her sleep, as if by reflex. Iroh let out a hearty laugh.

“You like your grandpa, don’t you my sweetheart,” whispered Katara for them to hear. She thought she felt his eyes water for a brief moment. 

Reaching out for the box by the nightstand, Iroh spoke again.

“Lady Ursa and I have brought a gift for the princess from her paternal grandparents. A small token to carry with her now and forever.” 

When he opened the box, the light from the candles burning in the room glinted on the surface of the contents inside. Iroh picked one object up and held it out to present it to Katara and Zuko. It was a brooch about the size of a walnut, shiny and seemingly lightweight. It was an emblem: one half had a sun carved in gold with tiny crystal beads, decorated with rays protruding in waves like petals in a flower; attached to it was a crescent moon carved in silver and blue accents, also with tiny crystal beads that imitated craters. It was the union of both celestial bodies. From the bottom of both pieces hung a lavender chain running from side to side.

“We had this brooch custom-made at the Hira’a blacksmiths. It’s a lightweight piece of jewelry that can be worn on her clothes.” He showed Katara the brooch before he passed it to Zuko to observe in detail. Their eyes met for a few seconds and shared the same knowing smile, their minds drifting back to that day at the North Pole, recalling that very phrase spoken by a younger Zuko:

You rise with the Moon. I rise with the Sun.

Zuko glanced at Iroh and snickered. As much as he wanted, he couldn’t really blame his uncle for this. 

It was a thoughtful gift. The source of waterbenders and firebenders’ powers were drawn from those bodies, the Moon and Ocean Spirits, and the Sun. Zuko and Katara also carried the symbols in their headpieces: the rod that holds Zuko’s crown to his topknot has two suns in gold on each corner, the same way Katara has two crescent moons in silver. This particular brooch was a precious piece of jewelry carved intricately down to the smallest detail that blended both parents and their elements—one that Izumi will be able to carry with her for as long as she lives, a piece to embrace what she represents. 

“We thought it was fitting for a baby half Fire Nation and half Water Tribe,” Ursa interrupted. “I had planned to incorporate the elements of fire and water, but Kora suggested that a sun and a moon would look better combined into a single piece. She did a magnificent job, didn’t she?”

“It’s really beautiful.” Zuko handed the brooch to Ursa. She turned it over in her hands and leaned down to fasten it to Izumi’s blanket; the jewel’s radiant colors stood in stark contrast to the fabrics surrounding her small body.

She had only just been born, and already she was carrying her grandparents’ devotion on her.

Ursa asked the most important question of the moment then. “Have you decided on a name yet?”

Katara, who had her eyes fixated on the baby, spoke first. “Zuko wanted to call her Izumi,” she ran her fingers over the brooch. “I think it sounds beautiful.”

Iroh and Ursa looked at Zuko at the same time in slight surprise, then switched between the baby and Katara with tender eyes and a kind smile. Katara noticed a faint change in the air, as if the two seemed to realize something and came to the same positive conclusion. They had picked up on an obvious detail that she couldn’t quite figure out. What was it that made perfect sense to them, like an open secret. 

Iroh bumped a shoulder against Zuko. He started blushing profusely. With a hand on his neck he said, “I think it’s perfect…”

Another knock on the door saved Zuko from his awkward misery. From the other side of the door, a voice notified that the ship from the Water Tribe had docked and Katara’s family were already being escorted to the Palace from the harbor. Zuko hurried to grab his dress robes and boots. 

“I’m gonna go out to the gates to greet them. I’ll be right back,” he said while tying his hair in a makeshift bun.

“I’ll come with, Nephew.”

Both men exited the room engaged in a quiet conversation. 

Inside the room, Katara patted the space next to her for Ursa to sit more comfortably on the bed. Alone and in the tranquility of the night, she decided to break her silence about what she had been wondering about minutes earlier with Zuko. “I couldn’t help but notice you before…” Ursa looked at Katara questioningly. “When you asked about her name. I asked Zuko about it but you arrived before I received an answer. Is there something wrong?” 

Before Katara had time to worry more than necessary, Ursa put all her doubts to rest. Looking at the baby’s face one more time, she ran her hand over the brooch that now adorned the blanket and then intertwined her fingers with Katara’s that were holding the baby.

“Izumi,” she began, “is what we call springs in the old language. It’s common to find them on the mountains northeast from here where firelilies grow and you can find the lush forests that surround the island, or on most of the islands used for farming and livestock where we obtain our food. This soil is rich in minerals, fertile due to the multiple eruptions.” She paused briefly before continuing in a softer tone than before. “Fire brings forth destruction but so brings life, as you know. But it would be of no use without those springs from where water flows and turns the land green.”

She smiled at Katara, searching in her features for the moment she would finally realize that her husband had poured all the love and devotion he felt for her into their daughter.

Ursa continued. “For our people, ‘izumi’ reflects a connection to nature; a land so serene and beautiful. Water is revered in many aspects of our life, despite being the nation of fire, our element opposite of what we admire most. It’s life, renewal and part of the cycle of nature, like it’s earth and air all the same.” 

But what she said next struck Katara in the deepest parts of her mind, nuzzled her heart and colored her soul. “Katara, there is no doubt, dear, that my son chose that name for you. Because he adores you.”

There was a moment of complete silence. All that could be heard was the sound of Izumi’s breathing—and probably the sound of Katara’s heart going at a thousand of beats per second. She opened her mouth for a brief moment before closing it again, not knowing exactly that to say. 

She recalled that conversation, many weeks ago, about the topic of baby names. Both Zuko and her had unanimously agreed that they would select an original name for the baby, especially if it was a girl. Katara also recalled mentioning something about suggesting a name from her tribe, but they left that topic to be forgotten because of Zuko’s hesitancy. Not because he was opposed to it, but because she knew there was something deeper welling in his chest.

And now, Zuko had chosen a name with her in mind. Water—her element, a representation of it in its most basic of forms: nurture and sustenance, life and cleanse . Neither of them were a stranger to their disposition. Yin and yang. A game of push and pull between two forces that were so opposite yet so compatible.

In her arms laid the life they had created together. A Fire Nation princess bearing the name of water. 

Ursa removed the hand that was resting on Katara’s and drew the lines of Izumi’s name in the air. Nine strokes of the quill. 

“There’s more to it, actually. The concept of water used to hold a sacred, spiritual meaning for many sages before war break, more than one hundred years ago.” Ursa placed her right hand on Katara’s thigh. “This I learned before I was married, when I used to accompany my father to other towns far away from Hira’a. Water and springs are prominent in traditional poetry called haiku.”

“Oh, yes, those are the ones Zuko was reading to me while I was resting before.” Katara interrupted. She pointed to the nightstand where Iroh had previously placed the box containing Izumi’s gift. Beside the candle lamp lay a small book, the same one Zuko kept in his office desk to read during breaks. 

Both laughed in unison. “You know he is a bit of a theater kid.”

Izumi stirred a little in her mother’s arms. She too was enjoying this conversation about her name.

“As I was saying, ‘izumi’ is sometimes associated with the idea of a serene and beautiful landscape, apart from broader historical and cultural narratives. It has influenced multiple painters and writers that have made an impact in various domains, such as Memories of an Old Land in the Far.” She pointed back to the book resting on the table. “It’s a cherished concept of harmony and natural beauty.”

Katara couldn’t hide the smile that was spreading across her face. A spring. A source of water just like the one she bends and spins and freezes at her whim, as blue as the color of her eyes, resembling the vast sea. It’s the color of her tribe—the blue of the water found in the pattern of their clothing, the waves as they crash against the icebergs. It’s the sound of a flowing river, or the sound of rain falling into a puddle. Water is what unites four nations in a single globe.

And she is the result of a union never before seen.

“I thought he had chosen the name to follow traditions. Izumi, Zuko. They sound very similar.”

“Oh, maybe… I understand what you mean. It’s not common to name children after a parent or an ancestor. Zuko and Azula’s names were Ozai’s idea, another way to make his way into the throne.” Ursa rolled her eyes at the memory. “But hey, it’s quite a coincidence, isn’t it? That way, both of you can be part of her in name and meaning. Now he can adopt that silly act of his father’s and make it yours.”

It was a rather peculiar situation. In her family, every member bore a distinguishing mark similar to the one Zuko uses in his family; the velar plosive sound is present in all names—Kanna, Pakku, Kya, Hakoda, Sokka, and Katara—as well as in Zuko’s and Suki’s names, coincidentally. It was a custom her grandmother had brought from the North Pole. Sokka, for example, hadn’t chosen a customary Water Tribe name for his first son. The little boy with sunkissed skin and auburn hair bore the name of an ancient spirit from a tale about earthmoles and sacks of gold popular in the Earth Kingdom.

Minutes later, the sound of the door handle opening slowly snapped Katara out of her little trance. Hakoda entered first, followed by Kanna, with Sokka and Suki in tow. 

The three Water Tribe members were wearing their traditional clothing but made from Fire Nation fabrics gifted to them during their visits to more temperate climates—lightweight and breathable to maintain comfort with sudden change in temperature—all dyed in the traditional blue and white colors with the respective embroidered patterns.

Sokka walked ahead of his father and grandmother, carrying his two year old son in his arms. He opened his eyes and mouth wide, tiptoeing all the way to the opposite side of the bed from where Ursa had been resting. 

“How are you, sis?” He whispered to Katara, but he quickly ignored her almost-response when he looked at the baby sleeping in her arms. “Awww, look at my pretty niece. Buddy, this is your cousin. C’mon say hi.” 

Zuko snorted out loud. 

Her nephew waved his hand at her and whispered an audible greeting. Katara answered the questions then. “I’m fine, thank you for asking,” she said in a mocking tone, gritting her teeth in the process. Sokka then grinned and kissed her temple.  

On the other side of the bed, Hakoda and Ursa were having a quiet conversation, while Kanna slipped her hand out of her son’s arm and walked toward the bed with slow but steady steps. Katara patted the space next to her.

“Gran-Gran…”

Kanna raised a shaky hand to her mouth to hold back the tears that were welling up in her eyes. She laughed with joy upon seeing Izumi nestled in Katara’s chest. Behind her, Hakoda approached the bed and bent down to place a kiss on Katara’s forehead. 

“Is this my granddaughter?” He asked softly. “Nice to meet you, little cub.”

Hakoda intertwined his hand with Katara’s as she held the baby. His other hand reached across the blanket, rubbing the fabric, then traced the brooch clasped in it.

“She’s beautiful, dear,” muttered Kanna. 

Izumi looked angelic wrapped in her blanket. It was impossible not to be captivated by such sweet sight, her little face with her rosy cheeks. She slept peacefully without a care in the world, surrounded by the most important people in her life—and those yet to come.

Suki walked over to the bed and sat down next to Sokka. She was wearing a loose green summer dress typical of her village, with sleeves reaching around her elbows and a brown belt under her chest. Embroidered on the skirt was a blue pattern found in Water Tribe clothing—probably a gift from Gran-Gran. She had let her hair grow past her shoulders while she was pregnant, now pulled back into a half topknot with blue loopies decorating the loose strands behind.

“We sent letters to Aang and Toph a little after we set sail. They’ll fly here soon.” Suki patted her hand on Katara’s legs over the bedsheets. 

“You know, you could’ve picked us up on your mighty dragon instead of sailing all the way here.” 

“A dragon?” Sokka’s son asked in wonder upon hearing the word, his face lit up with surprise.

“Really buddy, Uncle Zuko has a pet dragon that can fly faster than Appa and breathes fire like him!” Sokka grabbed his son by the arms and lifted him to put him in his shoulders, flying him across the room and making noises with his mouth whoosh and raaahh, like he was flapping his wings and breathing fire. They were giggling together as they paced the room, then Sokka picked him back up and raised him as high as he could until they reached the spot next to Iroh and Zuko. 

Druk wasn’t big enough yet to carry multiple people at once in such vast distances. Dragons grew much faster than humans, but slower than a common land animal. At five years old, Druk was the size of a two-story house and as long as two large Kuai Ball fields, yet he still had a couple more years worth of development. He was an imposing and stunning dragon, with bright red scales that shone under the sunlight and soft white fur. As a relatively young dragon, he was quite playful and loved chasing ostrich-horses around, belly rubs and early morning flights with Zuko during sunrise. The loyalty and trust he shared with his master since he hatched was one of Zuko’s strongest bonds; stronger than man and pet, but rather that of two equals.

“I’ll take you to meet him tomorrow morning,” Zuko offered and ruffled his nephew’s growing reddish locks. 

In the bed, Izumi continued to sleep undisturbed by the minor commotion. 

“She’s such a heavy sleeper, I have the feeling she will be a very calm baby,” Gran-Gran told Katara in response to all the noise Sokka had made. 

“You should’ve seen her earlier. She wouldn’t fall asleep if she wasn’t holding her father’s finger.”

Izumi’s hands were now folded near her face, slightly covered by the blanket. Beside her, Hakoda chuckled lightly. “Oh, she’s just like you when you were a baby,” he said with a nostalgic smile. “You could only fall asleep if your head was resting on my hand, and if I took it away before you had completely fallen asleep, you would start crying inconsolably.”

Katara looked at him with her mouth agape in slight astonishment. 

“Why is it the first time I’m hearing this?” She asked with one eyebrow raised.

“You were quite a handful, my child. Your mother and I had to coordinate your nap hours, and I couldn’t go out hunting while you were sleeping. We had to be meticulously careful because your crying bothered Sokka, and he would start crying right after you.” 

Katara looked at her grandmother in disbelief. Kanna let out a soft laugh.  “Well, aren’t you just like your mother, little Izumi.”

Beside her on the opposite side, Suki added. “How fitting, Izumi.” An eye-smile spread across her face.

Hakoda and Sokka looked at Suki in confusion. 

“What does it mean?”

Katara looked at Ursa, who smiled back at her and nodded, gesturing for her to be the one to explain what she had learned moments prior.

She turned her eyes back to her baby. “It means water spring. It’s an old word, but still in use. It refers not only to the spring itself, but also describes a landscape changed by the presence of natural water sources that fill it with life.” 

Then she raised her head to look at Zuko with gentle eyes filled with gratitude, and he returned her smile with a gentle blush.

Beside him, Sokka nodded his head in agreement.

“If I may add,” Iroh said with a cough, “her name also means peace and harmony—two feelings associated with the presence of water sources that lend a unique beauty to such landscapes.”

“You’re gonna make me cry brother, but I’m not sure yet if of cringe or cheesiness,” Sokka crooned, sticking his tongue out feigning disgust. 

Izumi embodied many of the qualities that defined her mother: change, life, harmony, and freshness, beauty, courage. She carried a special meaning of history about her homeland in the Fire Nation and her home in the South Pole, both connected in the stretch of the vast oceans that make up her name. It’s water, it’s a sound. 

-

In the quiet of their shared room, Katara and Zuko spent some private time in the company of their daughter after abandoning the makeshift delivery room and sending their guests to settle in their respective rooms.

Aang and Toph had arrived a little before midnight, both benders equal parts emotional and excited about the new addition to their found family. The atmosphere was filled with love and happiness in the presence of the entire team and family, all part of recent written history; a group of children that fought with courage and determination for a new world—free and peaceful, and ready for the arrival of future generations. Their heartfelt reunion was extended with the excuse of “baptizing the spawn of Sweetness and Sparky” or something along those lines that their earthbender friend argued and that dragged their encounter for an extra fifteen minutes. 

They took it very seriously.

“Flameo, Steamhighness,” had finally concluded Aang, bowing in respect. “Or should I say ‘hydro’ instead.”

Zuko, leaning over the crib where Izumi was finally asleep until her next feeding, smiled as he gazed at his daughter. They had placed her close to their bed. 

The adjoining room, where the baby had been born just a few hours earlier, was assigned to the Fire Lady or the consorts; it was separated by a thick wall and connected by a door in the middle. Katara had never used that room, being very used to sharing a single home with her entire family and having very little privacy. Zuko agreed—husband and wife must share a bed—especially since he found it quite difficult to be apart from Katara. Instead, the room will be rearranged and converted into a space for when the baby is a little older but still needs her parents’ immediate attention. When she grows up, she’ll have her own room down the hall, and the nursery will be used for other babies or turned into something else. 

Behind him, Katara emerged from the bathroom after her quick washup, with her brown waves cascading down her back and wearing a lavender nightgown. She wrapped her arms around Zuko’s torso and rested her face against his shoulderblades. He turned around and hugged her back, hugging his arms around her shoulders and resting his chin against the top of her head.

They basked in each other’s presence. 

“I would have never come up with the name if it wasn’t for you.”

Katara lifted her head and locked eyes with him.

Zuko continued. “I wanted a name that was special. One that belonged as much to you as it did to me, but also to her. When she opened her eyes and looked at me, I was reminded of the color of the sunflowers on Ember Island, and of the hibiscus flowers, and of the sunset we sometimes watched from the roof of the south tower overlooking the mountains.” Zuko delicately stroked the hair near her forehead. “And I realized that the happiest moments of my life have been the ones where you’ve been standing by my side.”

Katara stood on her tiptoes and pressed her mouth against Zuko’s gently, kissing the softness of his lips and savoring the warmth of all his love in her skin. 

“But those fields of flowers, or the meadows full of fresh green grass, or the hibiscus, the fields of corn and wheat—none of them would exist without the water that irrigates them. That water flows from the mountains, natural springs deep within the earth that spread across the land in small streams. They change over time—they disappear or grow larger, they transform into rivers that flow into the sea or into lakes. They give life and provide sustenance.” He bent his neck to touch their foreheads together.  “It reminded me of you—such finicky thing, water. So untameable and so free. It flows with time, changes, and transforms. It’s as blue as your eyes and just as stubborn as you are. What better name for our daughter than Izumi, a spring.”

“I am the flow and you are the sound it makes as it makes its way through the land,” Katara added in a whisper.

A genuine smile lit up his face.

“I was thinking of officially presenting her name tomorrow before the Fire Sages. I’d like to write her name using the symbols of peace and harmony with spring.”

They spent several minutes locked in an embrace, sharing their deepest feelings of love and devotion for each other and for their daughter. 

It was Katara who broke the silence first. “I was thinking that now we have to raise a tiny baby human and a dragon on the verge of adolescence at the same time.”

Zuko’s whole body shook in the burst of his laughter. “We’ll be alright.”

-

The next day, Fire Lord Zuko and Master Katara presented the name of their daughter to the nation: