Renjiro rose from his chair. "Come," he said, motioning for Kaen to follow.
They stepped out of the tea shop and into the bustling streets of the Fire Nation's capital, where a lacquered noble carriage awaited, its crimson and gold finish gleaming in the sunlight. The driver bowed deeply to Renjiro before opening the door.
Inside, the carriage smelled faintly of sandalwood and herbs, the cushions softer than anything Kaen had ever touched.
As the carriage began to roll, Renjiro folded his hands in his lap and turned his gaze on the boy. "Kaen," he said, his tone calm but firm, "I would like you to be more than just my cook. You have a rare talent, one that goes beyond tea. With proper guidance, you could master herbs, tinctures, medicines. You could create remedies to ease suffering—not just for the fire nation, but for the entire world."
Kaen's throat tightened. He bowed his head slightly. "That's… an honor, sir." His voice wavered, caught between gratitude and hesitation. "But I… I don't know yet. I'll give you my answer once I figure out what I want to be."
Renjiro studied him in silence for a moment, then inclined his head with the smallest of approving nods. "A wise answer. The path of mastery is not one to be chosen lightly."
The carriage wheels rattled on the stone road, carrying them deeper into the heart of the capital—and into a future Kaen hadn't imagined when the day began.
The carriage slowed before a sprawling estate nestled behind high crimson walls. Lanterns of polished bronze hung at the gates, glowing faintly with captured firelight. When the doors opened, Kaen stepped into a courtyard paved with black stone, every corner trimmed with manicured shrubs and rare flowers.
It was nothing like the cracked roofs and alleys he had called home.
"Welcome to my home," Renjiro said simply, striding forward with his usual measured grace. Servants bowed low as he passed. He didn't stop until they reached the inner hall, then turned to a young attendant. "Take the boy. Guide him to the bathhouse. Prepare him as you would a noble guest. Attire, grooming, everything."
Kaen blinked, caught off guard. "Wait, what—"
"You are no longer a street rat under my roof," Renjiro interrupted, voice calm but unyielding. "Here, you will be treated as someone worthy. Now go."
The servant bowed again and motioned for Kaen to follow. Reluctantly, Kaen obeyed.
The bathhouse was larger than any room Kaen had ever slept in. Steam curled through the air, fragrant with herbs and oils. A stone tub the size of a pond bubbled gently, heated by firebenders channeling controlled flame beneath it. Bowls of powders, soaps, and neatly folded towels lined the shelves.
The servant spoke with patient formality. "Please, undress. Leave your clothes here—they will be burned. They are not fit to keep."
Kaen hesitated, clutching at his tattered shirt. "Burned?"
The servant's eyes flicked over the ragged cloth with faint distaste. "Trust me, sir. You will not miss them."
With a quiet grumble, Kaen shed the filthy layers. The moment he slipped into the water, he gasped. Heat licked across his skin, loosening grime that had clung for weeks. The herbs infused in the bath stung at first, then soothed, leaving his body light and uncoiled.
Servants worked around him in efficient silence, scrubbing away the layers of dirt that soap alone could not. His hair, matted with grease and ash, was washed until it shone jet-black again, the tangles combed free. Oils scented with jasmine and pine were massaged into his scalp and skin. His nails were trimmed and cleaned, rough heels scraped smooth.
When the water finally ran clear, they helped him step out, wrapping him in a robe of soft crimson silk. He almost melted into it, the fabric too smooth, too alien against skin used to coarse rags.
Another servant brought in a folded set of attire: a noble's outfit in deep red with black lining, tailored to fit him as though it had always been his. The sash was tied with practiced hands, the collar straightened, boots slipped onto freshly washed feet.
Kaen stared at the mirror of polished bronze they held before him. For a heartbeat, he didn't recognize the boy staring back. Gone was the urchin in rags. What looked back at him was sharp, clean, fire-eyed—like someone who belonged in the noble quarter, not the gutter.
"Sir Kaen," the servant said with a respectful bow, "you are ready."
Kaen swallowed, still gripping the silk sleeve between his fingers. So much good from a man of this stature—a Fire Nation noble, no less—scared him.
Kaen followed the servant down the polished staircase, each step echoing faintly in the vast home. The air smelled faintly of incense and roasted chestnuts, a comforting warmth that contrasted with the gnawing unease in his chest.
At the foot of the stairs, Renjiro stood waiting in a formal yet relaxed stance, his hands folded neatly behind his back. A faint smile touched his lips as he gestured toward the grand room beyond.
"Kaen," Renjiro said warmly, "there are people you should meet."
The doors slid open, revealing a spacious hall bathed in amber light from paper lanterns. Seated around a low lacquered table was Renjiro's family.
"This is my wife, Lady Hana," Renjiro introduced first. A graceful woman in a flowing crimson kimono embroidered with golden lotus flowers rose from her cushion. Her dark hair was bound in an elaborate knot, and her eyes, sharp yet kind, studied Kaen with quiet curiosity.
Beside her sat a young man, perhaps seventeen, with a lean, disciplined look about him. His posture was flawless, his black topknot bound tightly. "My eldest son, Riku," Renjiro said. Riku gave a curt nod—polite, but distant, his gaze lingering on Kaen's commoner's features even beneath the fine robes.
Next to him was a girl of about fourteen, her long hair flowing freely past her shoulders. She wore a lighter robe of rose-red, her cheeks carrying the faintest blush of youth. She smiled brightly, unguarded where her brother was not. "And this is my daughter, Aika."
Finally, in Lady Hana's lap squirmed a little boy, no older than five. His chubby hands clutched a wooden toy dragon painted in gold. "And this," Renjiro said with a rare chuckle, "is Haru, the youngest of my house."
The family's eyes were all on him now. Kaen bowed stiffly, as he had seen nobles do, though he nearly overbalanced in the heavy robes.
"It is… an honor to meet you all," Kaen said, the words careful, almost foreign on his tongue.
Lady Hana inclined her head politely. Aika's smile widened, while Riku's remained cool and unreadable. Little Haru only giggled and held up his toy dragon for Kaen to see.
Renjiro's hand settled firmly on Kaen's shoulder. "This boy," he told his family, "is Kaen. He will be staying with us tonight as an honorable guest. Treat him with the respect."
Kaen bowed once more, his pulse hammering in his ears.
They gathered around the low dining table, lacquered wood glinting beneath the lanternlight. Platters of steaming rice, grilled river fish, and pickled vegetables filled the air with savory fragrance. Kaen's stomach clenched painfully at the sight.
A servant placed a pair of lacquered chopsticks before him. He picked them up gingerly, awkwardly, holding them more like tongs than tools. He tried to scoop a bit of rice, only for the grains to tumble back into the bowl. Again and again, he fumbled, his face heating with every failed attempt.
Aika leaned closer, her voice soft with a mischievous smile. "Do you want me to show you how to use them?"
Her gentle offer set off laughter around the table—Haru's giggles bubbling freely, Lady Hana covering her mouth with delicate composure, even Renjiro's lips twitching at the corners. Kaen's ears burned, but a small smile escaped him despite the embarrassment.
Riku, however, sneered. "As expected from a commoner," he muttered, his words sharp as a blade.
"Riku," Lady Hana's voice snapped gently but firmly. "That was uncalled for. Apologize."
"But it's the truth," he shot back, his expression cold, eyes never leaving Kaen's.
Renjiro's hand struck the table softly, but the weight of it silenced the room. "Enough. Quiet, Riku."
The boy stiffened, his jaw tight. Without another word, he pushed back from the table, rose, and left the room with sharp, echoing steps.
An uneasy quiet lingered in his wake. Kaen stared at his bowl, the rice finally balanced shakily between his chopsticks. His lips parted to apologize, but before he could, Renjiro's deep voice cut in.
"Do not apologize, Kaen. That is the arrogance of youth, not your failing. Many young nobles act so. Pay it no mind."
Kaen exhaled slowly, nodding, tension easing from his shoulders. He finally brought the rice to his mouth, savoring the warmth spreading across his empty stomach.
Lady Hana, in her gentle wisdom, broke the silence. "I hear from my husband that you are quite the tea maker," she said, her tone warm, curious.
Kaen lifted his gaze, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "That's right. If you wish, I can brew you the best tea you've ever tasted."
Aika's eyes lit up. "Really? Then you must! I want to taste it too!"
Haru clapped his little hands together, chanting "Tea, tea, tea!" as Lady Hana chuckled softly.
The mood lightened. Conversation flowed again as Kaen listened and added a word or two when asked, Aika often directing questions at him with genuine interest. By the end of the meal, the dishes were cleared away, and Kaen rose, bowing slightly.
"If you'll allow me, I'll prepare the tea now."
He stepped into the kitchen, the workers glancing curiously as the ragged boy-turned-guest walked among their tools. Kaen's hands moved with instinctive precision, herbs and leaves meeting water in perfect harmony, every motion smooth and deliberate, like a dance long practiced. The fragrant steam rose into the air, rich and calming, curling out of the kitchen and into the hall.
When he returned, carrying the teapot and cups with careful grace, all eyes followed him. He set them down, poured, and waited as Renjiro, Hana, Aika, and even little Haru took their first sips.
The quiet that followed was not uneasy this time—it was reverent.
Lady Hana's eyes softened the moment the tea touched her lips. She closed them, savoring the delicate balance of warmth and aroma, and for a moment her noble composure cracked into a true, unguarded smile.
"This is…" she murmured, almost to herself, "gentle yet alive. Like spring returning after a harsh winter."
Aika leaned forward eagerly, blowing across her cup before taking a sip. Her whole face lit up. "Mmm! It's so smooth! Not bitter at all! Kaen, this is amazing!" She set her cup down, eyes wide with admiration. "You have to teach me one day."
Across the table, Renjiro said nothing at first. He simply sipped, slow and measured, his expression unreadable. But the faint crease between his brows eased, his shoulders relaxing as he exhaled through his nose. A subtle nod followed, the kind of approval that carried more weight than words.
Little Haru, meanwhile, took his tiny sip with both hands on the cup, then smacked his lips exaggeratedly. "Good! More, more!" His giggles filled the room, and even Kaen couldn't help but chuckle.
Kaen and the family sat together, warmed by the lanterns and the tea, conversation flowing with ease. Kaen answered Aika's endless curiosity, smiled politely at Lady Hana's questions, and caught Renjiro's rare glances of approval.
Later, when the evening wound down, a servant guided him to a quiet guest room. The futon was already laid out, crisp and clean, a small lamp glowing faintly by his side. He lay back slowly, staring at the ceiling beams, still half-convinced he might wake up back on a cold rooftop.
The thought made him laugh under his breath.
The head of a tea shop, or something close to it. That had never been in his plans. He'd thought of thievery. But brewing tea for nobles? Sleeping under a roof?
He wasn't complaining.
His stomach was full, his body clean, and he was under a roof that wasn't threatening to collapse on him.
He turned on his side, whispering to himself. "Not bad, Kaen… not bad at all."
Sleep claimed him quickly.