Tale of a Tea Shop III

Iroh awoke, but instead of rushing out of bed in his usual manner, he lay there, staring up at the ceiling and thinking.  A shaft of light had broken through the window and was passing over him, and the old general watched as the steam of his breath swirled, dancing with the focused illumination before disappearing into the shadows once more. He smiled and shivered briskly; winter had indeed come early.

Pulling himself out of bed, Iroh rubbed his hands together as he made his way to the washroom.  There, he splashed some water on his face, and began to comb out his beard as he gazed into the mirror.  Holding his beard in his hand, the dragon paused, contemplating something before he reached for a pair of scissors.  Carefully, he trimmed the length down, shaping it to what it had looked like when he was a general.  His hair was next, cutting the long braid in half and brushing it out before tying it back into a topknot.  Humming cheerfully, Iroh cleaned up the trimmings and got dressed.  

When he opened the door there was a wall of cold there to meet him, and Iroh winced and bundled his robes about himself.  There weren't many on the street as he made his way towards the Jasmine Dragon, so he blew a breath of flame into his palms to warm them.  Hands dropped to his side as he walked on, the fingertips resting on the pouch of Pai-Sho tiles tied to his belt.  He smiled to himself, amber eyes dreamily regarding the front doors of the tea shop as he unlocked them.

The last couple of weeks had been bliss for the old man.  Every other night or so, Honshu would show up as the tea shop was closing, helping Iroh clean before sharing a cup of tea and some conversation with the old dragon.  When she had produced a set of Pai-Sho tiles and asked Iroh if he knew how to play, he was unable to hide his elation.  Iroh's nights were full of tea, Pai-Sho, and the company of a lovely huntress who happily listened to him ramble on and on about everything.  He told her about his life as a general, his siege of the city, the death of his son.  He told her about Zuko, and Ozai, and his treacherous niece, Azula.  He told her everything, and Honshu listened quietly, taking it all in and only saying enough to prompt the old man into talking some more.  She asked thoughtful questions about this and that; his son's birthday, where Zuko was now, the fate of his brother and niece.

Once, Honshu asked about Lu Ten's mother, and Iroh had grown quiet.

"She was…a lovely girl," he finally answered, staring at the tea in his hands and smiling gently.  His face soon fell.  "But she was a girl, betrothed to me for reasons of political tie and bloodline.  It was her duty to provide an heir, and she died doing so, which was why my son and I grew close.  I felt awful about the fact that I barely knew her…but it was war.  I was constantly on the battlefield, as was expected of the crown prince.  When I was home, there were council meetings and…"  Iroh shook his head.  "It is a poor excuse, but a valid one.  It took losing my son to realize that the position I was in was one that made it impossible to have what I really wanted, a family.  There is not a day that goes by where I do not regret learning my lesson so late.  I may not have been able to save her from her fate…but."  He sighed.  "Perhaps that is why I did not put up a fight when my brother betrayed me and took my crown.  That was a mistake as well…I would have ended this war years ago, if I had been the one making the calls.  So many mistakes…and my errors have cost so many lives."

Honshu could see the regret in his face, and the sadness in the old man's voice.  She couldn't help but take his hand and squeeze it gently.

"The important lessons take longer to learn, old man," Honshu murmured to him, and Iroh had peered over at her and smiled.

Not all their topics were so serious.  They talked about music and food, about this place Iroh knew of where they could go dancing, perhaps.  She had peered at him curiously and admitted that she would love to, and the general had to fight back the urge to pick her up and hug her.  Instead he had nodded, smiled, and beat her at the game of Pai-Sho they had been working on.  Honshu had chucked a knotweed tile at him, which erupted into a small battle armed by flying Pai-Sho tiles.  When the board was clear, and their sets were now scattered about the floor of the Jasmine Dragon, they had laughed and gathered them together.

As happy as he was, there was something tugging at the old man's mind.  She spoke little of herself…from what he could gather she was an orphan from the war, and had spent her time on the road since before she could remember.  Honshu had no affiliations, no family, nothing holding her to any place in particular.  She earned what she could by hunting, and taking small jobs on farms and in towns until she had enough money to press on.  Iroh had offered Honshu a job at his tea shop when her contract with the city had run its course, and she had promised to consider it.

He pondered about the huntress as he started the fires, set the tables, and measured out the tea leaves.  Iroh wanted to know more about her, but Honshu seemed the type that wouldn't volunteer anything about her past easily.  Something didn't add up; for someone who had lived such a life, she had the knowledge and culture of one born in a higher caste than a mere drifter.  Honshu's particular enigma was her hands.  Though they did show the tell-tale callouses of an archer, and they were strong and deft from skinning game, her nails were constantly trimmed and polished.  Her gestures were graceful; her touch alighted upon his hand or arm gently like the daughter of a nobleman.  The juxtaposition of elegance and utility confused Iroh, and intrigued him.  He wanted nothing more than to take her hands in his own.  

As the first of his workers walked in, however, Iroh put his thoughts on pause and welcomed them.  One of the greeters stopped when she saw the old man and smiled brightly his way.

"You look very nice today, sir," she mentioned, bowing to the dragon before hurrying off to sweep the storefront.  Iroh beamed.

It would not be long until the customers came in, and the old man took the teacups down for the drying rack and stacked them on the counter for the servers.  He checked the small pots of honey that some used to sweeten their tea, grimacing to himself at the thought of anyone that would ruin the brew with such additives.  Iroh had noticed quickly that Honshu didn't add anything to her tea.  He mused that if he were a younger man, he would court her, marry her, and maybe then he would learn of her past.

But Iroh was not a younger man, and this was always nagging at him whenever the huntress walked through the tea shop doors.  A trimmed beard did little to wind back his sixty-six years, and his sixty-seventh was just around the corner.  He saw how other men looked at Honshu as she passed by, and he knew that it would not be long before she would take notice of one of them.  Would their nights of tea and Pai-Sho end when that happened?  Iroh wondered about that…but not as much as why she wasted her time with him.  Honshu was a capable young woman who chose to spend her evenings with a retired general in his tea shop…perhaps she felt the same way about him as he did about her.  Iroh knew this was a stretch, but for the time being he decided to let himself keep believing this.

He was a little sad that he had told her not to come that night, but it was the night of the full moon and he had other arrangements.  Full moon and new moon, he and a handful of older gentlemen would gather to play Pai-Sho in the back of a quiet flower shop on the eastern side of the middle ring.  There, dressed in modest blue robes, the members of the White Lotus would discuss matters of importance…as well as gamble the night away.

Leaving the Jasmine Dragon in the hands of his workers, Iroh made his way towards the train station and waited patiently until the eastbound one pulled in.  It took about twenty minutes to get to his stop in the middle ring of the city, and Iroh gathered himself as soon as he saw the green rooftops in the moonlight.  Many of the city's stores were in this ring as well, and as Iroh wandered down the streets, one store in particular caught his eye.  The merchant was taking his wares inside; flowing kimonos of many different colors, with obis hanging folded from rods.  Iroh took one in his hands before the merchant could take it down, and with a bow, he asked how much it cost.  After a short discussion about size and proper style, Iroh carefully laid his purchases on a length of burlap he had on him, wrapping them gently before securing the makeshift satchel across his chest.

After the war ended, Fung had moved his flower shop from the Si Wong Desert and into Ba Sing Se.  Conditions outside of the city walls had worsened, and Iroh had made it possible for him to find a store that would meet the needs of the White Lotus.  That was where Iroh was headed on this night, with his Pai-Sho tiles ready and a modest amount of his earnings set aside to gamble away…not that he ever lost.  With this in mind Iroh wore a crafty smirk as he knocked on the back door of the shop, exchanging the traditional greeting with the doorman and entering the warm firelight of the windowless room.  

Upon his arrival, most of those present stood and bowed to the Grand Lotus as he pulled back the hood of his cloak and saluted the room.  Fung trotted up to offer Iroh a cup of tea and a smile.

"Good news, sir.  We have a visitor tonight!" the wiry shopkeeper exclaimed, and Iroh perked a brow at him.

"Oh?  Who?" the dragon asked, and the one member who had not bowed threw back his hood and shot an evil smirk at Iroh.  King Bumi snapped his hand towards the Pai-Sho table he had waiting and cackled.

"I have traveled across many miles…to take your money!" the old master exclaimed, stomping on the ground and summoning an upshoot of stone through the tatami mat to use as a seat.  Fung wilted and grabbed his head.

"My floor!" he cried, and Bumi waved a hand in his face.

"Oh settle down, I'll pay for it with Iroh's money." The King smiled sweetly at Iroh and batted his lashes.  Iroh sat down and grimaced.

It was a rare occasion that Bumi would leave the city of Omashu, and his presence at that night's meeting meant that he had caught wind of something important.  Business aside, Bumi enjoyed visiting with his younger comrade…and as skilled as Iroh was at Pai-Sho, the earth bender always managed to take much of the old dragon's money.  And as much as Iroh respected and liked Bumi, he still thought he was a total jerk, especially when he won.  Which was often.

As those present settled into their places, some around Pai-Sho tables and others simply looking on, conversation began to turn from casual chit chat to more pressing matters.

The world had changed quickly after Zuko and the Avatar had brought an end to the war.  The peace that they had all wished for had yet to fall over the world; Skirmishes still erupted at the borders of the Fire Nation territories claimed in the lands of the Earth Nation, and disputes over land were prevalent.  Families who had lost fathers, sons, and brothers were now seeking compensation from their respective kingdoms.  There was now a surplus of men and women who had been making their livings fighting the war, producing weapons, and fortifying towns and cities, and not nearly enough jobs all of them.  In both the Fire and Earth nation, there was a huge drop in the overall economy, and the poorer parts of the cities grew as more and more soldiers came home to seek whatever work they could find.

The Water Tribes, whose isolation had served them well during the war, saw the calamity befalling the other nations and chose to pull away.  Introverting on their own concerns, they saw to the needs of their own people and were attempting to cut off communication with the rest of the world.  Though there was some bitterness about this, the Fire and Earth nations chose to focus their hate upon each other due to both proximity and the large extent of their dealings during wartime.  Riots were not uncommon, and it was hard to quell the feelings of hatred and mistrust.  Zuko and Aang had their work cut out for them, and the tension brought about by a century of war was not going to make it any easier.  The Order spoke of all these things before slipping into the matter of current gossip and rumors.

"I hear that General Akio passed a few weeks back.  Such a shame," mumbled Kin, one of the younger members.  Iroh looked up from his game.

"Akio?  How did he die?" he asked, and Kin looked over and shrugged.

"Passed in his sleep, apparently.  He was pretty old, you know."  Kin looked around at the glares from the elder Lotuses, and hunkered meekly over his tiles.  Iroh stroked his beard.

"Akio wasn't much older than me," he mumbled, and Bumi spoke up.

"He was probably in better shape," the King blurted, and Iroh glared at him.  "Or at least faster…your move!"  Iroh moved a rose tile into play.  Another of the order spoke up as they watched the games.

"Akio was not the only one; a few days ago, Shinu was found dead.  He was overseeing some of the territories outside of Pohuai when a storm rolled in and his escort lost sight of him.  They found him face down in the mud, no sign of foul play.  His heart simply stopped."  Iroh looked over at Jiayi, the one who had spoken, and frowned.

"Shinu was a good man…and not very old at all."  Iroh pondered this quietly as he turned a tile over and over in his fingers.

"Speaking of dying generals," Bumi blurted as he slapped down a rock tile, blocking Iroh's harmony and causing the old dragon to glare at him.  "There is rumor that a network of assassins has been planning to target notable figureheads of the Fire Nation military.  While this is just a rumor for the time being, I would be cautious, since rumors often carry some truth to them."  Bumi looked at Iroh pointedly.  "And if the military is being targeted, I would think that the royalty would also be at risk, my friend."  Iroh grunted and nodded to the fellow Lotus.

"I appreciate the warning, Bumi," murmured Iroh as he laid down a lily tile, attempting a second arrangement, "Is there anything notable about the supposed assassins?  Are they from a particular nation?"  The old earth bender shook his head.

"Nothing that tangible yet, I'm afraid, though it isn't likely that they are Fire Nation!"  Bumi laughed maniacally before suddenly calming and continuing on.  "There have been no attempts as of yet…no threats against anyone have arisen, so everything is still speculation and whispered words.  Just keep an eye out for anything suspicious; perhaps send word to your nephew and his friends."  Iroh bowed his head to Bumi and sighed.  

"I shall take your advice, thank you," he grunted, and Bumi moved his final tile into place with a gleeful caw.

"And I shall take the pot!  Pay up, kid," he snickered, poking fun at the younger elder and holding out a hand for his winnings.  Iroh grumbled and counted out coins, and Bumi took the opportunity to peek into the satchel that Iroh had been hovering over all night.  With a loud cackle, he unfurled the kimono for the others to see.

"Oh, how pretty! But Iroh," he peered at the old man appraisingly as an irritated Iroh snatched for the dress, "To fit into this you are gonna need a girdle, or two!  Been slacking on those sit ups, haven't you?"  Bumi poked Iroh in the stomach, making him huff before he finally got hold of the kimono.  Carefully, he refolded it.

"It's not for me, you crazy old goat," the dragon grumbled, and Fung perked up and peered at him.

"I didn't know you were courting someone, when did this happen?" he asked, and a few others looked Iroh's way, interested.  The old man frowned and slipped the bundle back into his satchel, tying it securely to himself once more.

"I'm not courting anyone.  It's for a friend of mine," he stated, and Bumi eyed him.

"I'm your friend, but you never buy me anything that nice!" he crowed.  Iroh scowled.

"That's because you rob me every time you visit!"  With that, Iroh and Bumi shared a good-natured punch or two, and the subject was soon dropped.

The meeting lasted until well after midnight, and with the full moon beginning to set in the west, the old dragon started home.  Bumi chose to walk him to the train station, and waited on the platform beside his old friend.  He watched as Iroh yawned widely, and then looked out over the rooftops.

"So.  Who is it really for?" he mumbled, now that they were out of earshot of the others.  Iroh smiled slightly.

"Her name is Honshu.  She came to Ba Sing Se about a month ago with the first winter storm.  She is…absolutely lovely."  A dreamy look passed over Iroh's face, and Bumi raised a brow.

"You love her?" he barked suddenly, and Iroh snapped out of his happy daze and shook his head.

"No…no."  The old man thought for a moment, then sighed.  "Maybe."

"Well do you or don't ya?" Bumi asked, smacking Iroh on the back of the head and causing the old dragon the flick a small bolt of flame his way.  A lightly scorched Bumi licked his fingers and put out his smoldering eyebrow with a glare at the smirking general.  "The one thing you can be certain of at our age, is how uncertain it is that we will live another day.  When I was your age, if I had been told I would have fifty good, solid years left in me, I would have done…so many things differently."  Bumi sighed, his face thoughtful for a moment as the train pulled into the station.  "Figure out if you have a valid reason for hesitating, and act upon what you find."  Bumi bowed to Iroh as he boarded, and the dragon returned the gesture.

"I will think upon your advice, old friend," Iroh replied as the train took off.