ITB Chapter 7 A Wild Fire

The forest air was thick with humidity, cicadas buzzing lazily from the treetops as the sun filtered through the canopy. The ground was soft beneath the claws of the mongoose lizards, their forked tongues flicking in and out as they drank greedily from the clear riverbank. Their tails swished, sending ripples through the undergrowth as they finally rested after days of relentless pursuit.

Azula stood a short distance away, her arms folded behind her back, posture rigid and regal even in the wilderness. Her amber eyes tracked the faint trail of white fur that clung to the branches and brambles along the riverside path. Each tuft of fur seemed to mock her, daring her to follow further.

The corners of her lips curled into the faintest of smirks. ‘So predictable. The Avatar thinks he can soar endlessly above the world on his beast, but even flying leaves a trail. All I need to do is follow the crumbs until he has nowhere left to run.’

But what pleased her more, what truly stoked the fire in her chest, was the thought of her brother. Pathetic, dishonored, banished Zuko, scrambling endlessly after the same goal. She could already imagine his face when he realized it was her, not him, who would drag the Avatar back to their father. That look of frustration, of powerlessness—it was almost enough to make her laugh aloud.

“Azula?” Ty Lee’s voice broke the silence, bright and sing-song as she sat cross-legged near the river. She dipped her fingers in the water, giggling at the cool rush over her skin. “We’ve been following them for days. Do you think we’re getting close, or are we just going in circles?”

Mai leaned against the trunk of a tree, arms crossed, her knives glinting faintly in the filtered light. Her voice was dry, as always. “If we were going in circles, I doubt Azula would admit it. She’d probably tell us that circles are a superior form of hunting strategy.”

Ty Lee laughed at that, her energy a stark contrast to Mai’s deadpan delivery. “Well, circles are pretty, don’t you think? Nice and round and—”

“Enough,” Azula snapped, though her tone carried more amusement than true irritation. Her smirk deepened as she stared at the trail of fur ahead. “We’re close. The Avatar’s beast sheds like an old robe. It doesn’t take a genius to see where it’s going.”

Mai’s amber eyes rolled lazily. “Good. Because I’m getting tired of sitting on that lizard for hours at a time. My legs are stiff, and the forest floor isn’t exactly luxurious either.”

Ty Lee leaned back on her palms, tilting her head as she looked at her friends. “Still, it’s kind of fun, isn’t it? Like a big camping trip. Just us three girls, chasing the Avatar across the world.”

“Fun?” Azula arched a brow, her smirk fading into something sharper. She turned to Ty Lee, her voice cold but precise. “This isn’t a trip, Ty Lee. This is history. When we return home with the Avatar in chains, when the Fire Nation stands at the brink of absolute victory, whose names do you think will be remembered? Not Zuko’s. Ours. Mine.”

Ty Lee blinked, her cheer faltering for a moment at the intensity in Azula’s gaze. Then she nodded quickly, her usual smile returning. “Of course, Azula. You’re right. You’re always right.”

Mai pushed away from the tree with a sigh, brushing stray leaves from her robe. “Well, if we’re making history, we might as well get it over with. I’d rather be remembered from a palace balcony than eaten alive by mosquitoes out here.”

Azula’s smirk returned, a flicker of fire dancing in her eyes. She turned back toward the trail, the wind carrying with it the faint smell of animal fur and airbender flight. “Rest is over. We’ve wasted enough time.”

The mongoose lizards lifted their heads as if answering her command, tongues flicking. Azula straightened, her armor gleaming faintly in the dappled light. In her mind, she could already see it: the Avatar bound at her feet, the fire of victory burning in her father’s eyes, and Zuko’s expression twisted in bitter defeat.

That vision alone was enough to quicken her steps as she strode back toward her mount.

“Come,” she ordered, voice as sharp as steel. “The chase continues.”

Mai sighed, Ty Lee hummed, and together the three girls were walking to their lizards once more. 

Azula’s boots had barely touched the earth as she moved toward her mongoose lizard when the world shattered.

With no warning. Azula, the fire nation's princess, was just gone.

—--------------------------------------

One heartbeat she was in the forest with Ty Lee’s chatter and Mai’s sighs filling the air, the next her world blinked out, replaced by something utterly alien.

The ground beneath her was wrong. A damp, spongy carpet squelched faintly under her steps, the smell of mildew and rot rising with each shift of her weight. The air was heavy with dust and mold, dry in her throat despite the damp floor.

Above her head, an endless fluorescent lights hummed, buzzing in a constant rhythm that seemed to burrow into her skull. They flickered lazily, casting pale, sickly light across the yellow-stained walls that stretched on in every direction.

Azula froze mid-step, amber eyes went wide for just an instant. Her breath caught in her throat. Then, slowly, deliberately, she forced her posture straight, shoulders squared, chin raised.

“This isn’t…” She turned slowly, scanning the walls, the peeling wallpaper, the stains that bled into each corner. “…where I was.”

Her words sounded small against the vast emptiness, swallowed by the buzzing overhead.

She remembered the river. Ty Lee smiling, Mai complaining, her lizard mounts slurping noisily at the water. She had taken one step—one step—toward her ride, and now—this.

Impossible.

Her hands curled into fists. ‘No one moves Azula like a pawn on a board. No one.’

“Ty Lee!” Her voice cracked like a whip, sharp and commanding. It echoed down the endless halls, bouncing back in distorted fragments. “Mai!”

Silence answered her.

The fluorescent lights hummed. The carpet squelched. Nothing else.

For a fraction of a second, something in her chest tightened. Fear? No. Azula smothered it ruthlessly. She would not tremble. She would not dare to look weak, even in this void where no one watched.

Her lips curled into the faintest sneer, masking the shift in her gut. “Pathetic. As if I would need either of them anyway.”

But her mind whispered differently. ‘I was with them. They were there. If I can vanish and be brought here, why not them too?’

She pushed the thought down, burying it beneath iron discipline.

Her amber eyes swept the endless hall again. No doors, no windows. Just more yellow. The same walls repeated into infinity. She raised her chin higher, forcing her body into perfect composure, wrapping herself in the familiar mask of control.

“If I wait here, nothing will come,” She muttered under her breath, her tone deceptively calm. “Answers are not given. They are taken. So…”

She turned sharply on her heel, the motion practiced and precise, and began to walk.

Her boots struck the damp carpet in measured steps. Each one echoed faintly, accompanied only by the droning buzz of the lights.

The endless sameness pressed down on her. No breeze. No scent of trees or ash. No life. Just yellow. And silence.

She walked, her hands behind her back, every inch the imperial princess despite the decay surrounding her. Her mind churned beneath the mask. ‘Where am I? Who dares to take me from my path? If this is some trick? Am I in the spirit world? Whoever took me will learn what it means to cross Azula of the Fire Nation.’

Her smirk flickered faintly back into place as she strode onward.

And so began Azula’s walk alone—her amber eyes sharp, her body rigid, her thoughts her only company in the maze of endless yellow halls.

—-----------------------

The monotony of the endless yellow halls pressed down on them as they walked, the buzz of the lights their only constant companion. Still, in the midst of that oppressive sameness, the three found themselves talking, if only to keep their minds sharp and their spirits from sinking into despair.

“So…” Issei scratched the back of his head, his voice echoing faintly off the damp walls. “If you guys could eat anything right now—like, your absolute favorite food—what would it be?”

Yuuka perked up immediately, a little bounce in her step despite the soggy carpet underfoot. “Ooooh, easy! Fried rice with pork belly, green onions, and eggs. My mom used to make it every weekend… super crispy, super greasy, soooo good.” Her lips curled into a fond smile, though her eyes dimmed slightly at the memory.

Issei chuckled. “Man, you just made me hungry, and we haven’t even been hungry since we got stuck here. That’s cruel, Yuuka.”

Yuuka stuck out her tongue playfully. “You asked!”

Weiss, walking ahead with her rapier loosely in hand, glanced back over her shoulder. “Interesting… your diets seem far richer in oils and seasonings. In Atlas, many meals include meat with only a few able to afford vegetables. My favorite is Pasta Alfredo with chicken. I wouldn’t mind blueberry frozen yogurt flavored ice cream.”

Issei and Yuuka exchanged glances, both blinking.

“Wait, wait, wait—” Issei raised his hand. “You’re telling me your world’s food is pretty much the same as ours? Like with pasta, chicken and ice cream. We have that back home.”

Yuuka nodded vigorously. “Yeah! I thought for sure it would be super exotic. Like… I dunno, food made out of crystals or something.”

Weiss gave them both a flat look. “Food is food. It sustains us. Why should it be so different?”

“Because you're from another world!” Issei said, throwing up his hands. “At the very least, I expected the names to be weird! Like instead of rice it’d be ‘grain pearls’ or something.”

Yuuka giggled at that. “Grain pearls! Oh, I’d totally eat that.”

Weiss rolled her eyes, but a faint, reluctant smile tugged at her lips. For a moment, the suffocating sameness of the Backrooms almost felt lighter, their conversation carrying them forward.

That was, until they stepped into the next room.

The hallway opened abruptly into a large chamber and this one was… different.

Rows of racks stretched out across the carpet, each one sagging under the weight of countless clothes. Dresses, shirts, coats, trousers—everything from casual wear to elaborate costumes. The fabric was stained in places, some pieces torn, others immaculate as though never worn. A faint, musty scent of mothballs and mold hung in the air.

The trio froze at the threshold.

“…What is this?” Yuuka whispered, clutching her pipe tighter.

Weiss’s gaze swept the room, every muscle taut with suspicion. “A trap?”

Issei stepped cautiously forward, eyes darting across the racks. “I… don’t know. But…I think these are just clothes?”

The three moved carefully inside, every step deliberate, their eyes searching the corners for movement. The buzzing lights overhead flickered once, then steadied. After a tense silence, it became clear—they were alone.

Yuuka finally let out a breath. “Okay… this is weird, right? Like, really weird? Who puts an entire clothing store in this nightmare maze?”

Weiss lowered her rapier slightly, though her posture remained stiff. “…The better question is, where did these clothes come from?”

That thought silenced them for a moment.

Issei, however, was struck with a different realization. He glanced down at himself—and grimaced. His school uniform was in tatters, bloodstains splattered across the fabric, the collar ripped from the last fight.

“Man…” He tugged at his sleeve. “I look like I got run over by a bus. No wonder it still feels sticky. Ugh, yeah, this is gross.” Without hesitation, he began pulling at the buttons of his shirt.

Yuuka blinked, her brain stalling for a moment. “…Wait. Wait, wait, wait—Issei, what are you doing?!”

Weiss spun around at the sound of fabric tearing, her eyes widening in outrage as she caught sight of him stripping off his shirt. Her pale cheeks flushed instantly, but her voice came out sharp as a blade. “Issei!”

Issei froze mid-motion, now bare from the waist up, his toned torso exposed beneath the flickering lights. Scars and fresh bruises marred his skin, a testament to the battles he’d endured, but his posture was casual, almost oblivious.

“…What?” He asked blankly, glancing between the two girls. “My clothes are ruined. We’re literally in a room full of clothes. What else am I supposed to do?!”

Weiss’s face burned red as she snapped her head away, voice taut with fury. “You could at least warn us before undressing in the middle of the room!”

Yuuka had her hands half-covering her face, peeking through her fingers with a bright blush. “Y-Yeah! Geez, Issei, you can’t just—just do that! You’re such an idiot sometimes!”

Issei looked at them both, utterly baffled. Then, scratching his cheek, he laughed awkwardly. “Oh, come on, it’s not like I’m naked! It’s just my chest. You two are acting like I committed some crime.”

Weiss’s hands clenched around her rapier, her voice icy. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Issei, most civilized gentleman, don't disrobe in front of women without warning!”

Yuuka’s blush deepened as she turned away, muttering, “Still… I mean, he doesn’t look… bad…” before quickly clamping her mouth shut.

Issei blinked, utterly lost. “…Huh?”

The two girls avoided his gaze, their faces red for similar reasons.

Issei then walked through the racks of clothes looking for a good shirt. Until finally arriving at one that looked similar to his favorite color. 

After putting it on, Issei stretched his arms out once, the fabric of his new shirt snug across his shoulders. He had swapped out the shredded remains of his old school vest and red shirt for another plain red shirt, he then slipped on a brown jacket over it for good measure. Layers, he thought. Layers were important. If something nasty dripped on him again—or if claws ripped through—the extra cloth might buy him just enough time to react.

He glanced down at his school pants. They were still intact, aside from some tears at the knees and dark stains he’d rather not examine too closely. “Eh,” He muttered, tugging at the fabric. “Still usable. Pants are pants.”

Turning back to the girls, he dusted his hands together. “Alright, all done.”

To his surprise, the moment the girls turned around to face him, both Weiss and Yuuka looked… almost disappointed. Their faces quickly shifted back to neutrality, but he didn’t miss the faint downturn of their lips.

Weiss huffed, folding her arms. “Honestly, Hyoudou, you could have at least tried to pick something stylish. That jacket doesn’t match at all. You look like you raided a bargain bin.”

Issei blinked, glancing down at himself. “…Clothes are clothes. They keep me covered and warm, plus they don’t itch, so it's fine. It’s not like we’re walking a fashion show down here.”

Yuuka snickered into her hand, though her cheeks were faintly pink. “Yeah, Weiss. You sound like my mom. Still…” her eyes flicked briefly over Issei before darting away, “…I guess he doesn’t look too bad.”

Weiss’s expression twitched, though she didn’t comment. Instead, her gaze shifted downward to her own uniform.

Her once-pristine combat dress was torn, the white trim stained with streaks of dried blood and patches of yellowish grime. Sweat had soaked through the fabric, stiffening it unpleasantly. 

Yuuka’s Fuyuki school uniform was not better—her shirt ripped at the shoulders, her skirt dotted with spots of unidentifiable liquid. Both girls frowned in unison.

“…This is unacceptable,” Weiss declared sharply, tugging at a ripped sleeve. “I can hardly swing a blade properly when my attire is falling apart.”

Yuuka pinched her shirt between two fingers, grimacing. “Ugh, it smells too. Yeah, no thanks.” She turned to Issei, placing her hands on her hips. “Wait outside. We’re going to change.”

“Eh?” Issei blinked, taken off guard. “You’re just—right now?”

Weiss’s icy stare pinned him in place. “Yes. And you had better not peek.”

Yuuka jabbed a finger at him for emphasis. “Yeah, no peeking, mister! We’ll know if you try.”

Issei raised both hands defensively, sighing. “Alright, alright, I get it. I’m not suicidal enough to mess with you two while you’ve got weapons.”

Still, disappointment gnawed at him as he stepped out into the hallway. A little part of him grumbled about the missed opportunity, but another part reminded him that if anything attacked while they were vulnerable, he’d never forgive himself. So he stood guard, his back to the door, staring down the endless yellow stretch.

The lights buzzed overhead, their flicker carving shadows across the damp carpet. Every creak and drip in the distance kept his senses taut. The Boosted Gear itched faintly to be summoned, as if reminding him it was there.

Behind him, he could hear faint shuffling—the sounds of clothes being shed and fabric rustling. He shoved his hands into his pockets, trying very hard to keep his thoughts elsewhere. ‘Protect. Don’t peek. Protect.’

Minutes stretched.

Finally, Weiss’s voice called, cool and composed as always: “Issei. You may return.”

Issei quickly entered and stopped dead.

Both girls stood there, no longer in their battered uniforms, but clad in heavier clothing scavenged from the racks. Weiss had chosen a long navy coat with silver buttons, layered over a white blouse and dark trousers. It wasn’t her usual battle attire, but it carried the same sharp elegance, tailored enough to frame her figure. Yuuka, meanwhile, had gone with a hunter-green jacket over a simple black shirt, sturdy boots laced up to her calves, and a scarf loosely draped around her neck.

The discarded remains of their old clothes lay crumpled in the corner like shed skins.

Issei blinked, caught off guard. “Whoa.”

Weiss smoothed down her coat, her expression stern though her eyes flickered with something softer. “It isn’t ideal. I would have preferred proper combat wear, but beggars can’t be choosers. Layers will do. There’s no telling what might touch us in this place.”

Yuuka spun once with a grin, her scarf flaring. “I like it! Makes me feel like some kind of adventurer. Way better than that old skirt.”

Issei’s grin widened, genuine warmth in his tone. “You both look… beautiful.”

For a moment, silence hung in the air. Weiss’s cheeks flushed pink, her mouth opening only to snap shut again. Yuuka squeaked, her face bright red as she tugged at her scarf.

“T-thanks,” Yuuka stammered, refusing to meet his eyes.

Weiss looked away sharply, muttering under her breath, “…You still look ridiculous in that jacket.”

But her voice lacked bite, and her hands lingered on the hem of her coat a little longer than necessary. Weiss then adjusted the cuffs of her new coat, flicking an invisible speck of dust from her sleeve. The faint pink still lingering on her cheeks from Issei’s earlier compliment had been smothered by her usual mask of composure. She raised her chin and gave a decisive nod toward the open hallway.

“It’s about time we leave. The longer we linger, the more suspicious this place becomes. There’s no telling if some… thing is lurking here.”

Yuuka, still fiddling with her scarf, bobbed her head quickly. “Yeah, let’s go.”

The two then head to the exit, but before they could take a single step out, Issei raised a hand. “Wait.”

Both girls froze, turning to look at him.

Weiss arched an eyebrow, her tone crisp. “What now, Hyoudou? If this is another excuse to waste time, I’ll—”

But she stopped short when she saw him already moving down one of the aisles, plucking random shirts and jackets from the racks. He tossed them over his shoulder in a messy heap, humming to himself.

Yuuka blinked. “…Uh, Issei? What are you doing?”

Issei glanced back with a grin, a bundle of clothes now clutched in his arms. “Isn’t it obvious? Backup gear! I mean, come on, we just got lucky finding this room. Who knows when we’ll stumble across another one? If our clothes get shredded again, we’ll be screwed. Might as well stock up while we can.”

Weiss folded her arms, ready to lecture him—then paused. The logic was irritatingly sound. She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “For once… you actually make sense.”

Yuuka chuckled, following him into the rows. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Can’t exactly fight monsters in underwear. That would be awkward.” She glanced sideways at Issei, grinning mischievously. “Although, maybe you wouldn’t mind that…”

Issei sputtered, nearly dropping the shirts in his arms but still looked down as he pictured it. “H-Hey! Don’t make it sound like I’d want that!”

Weiss’s glare cut across the racks, icy enough to freeze him mid-step. “Issei. Eyes forward.”

“Y-Yes, ma’am…” He muttered quickly, resuming his scavenging.

The three of them worked quietly after that, scanning racks for anything in decent condition. Weiss gravitated toward long coats, trousers, and gloves—practical, combat-ready pieces. Yuuka, by contrast, picked out lighter shirts and extra scarves, making sure they were flexible enough to move in. Issei didn’t care much about style; he grabbed whatever looked sturdy, stuffing it into the growing pile.

After a few minutes, they gathered back near the center of the room. Issei dropped the bundle onto the floor with a grunt, then crouched and opened his backpack.

“Alright,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “Let’s make this work.”

Weiss crouched beside him, her movements neat and efficient. “Give them to me. If we simply toss everything in, you’ll waste space.”

Yuuka knelt on the other side, giggling softly. “Yeah, Issei, if we left it to you, you’d just cram them in and the zipper would pop.”

“Hey!” Issei shot back, but he didn’t stop them from helping. Truth be told, watching the two of them fold each piece with precision and stack them neatly was oddly calming.

Weiss organized by type: shirts rolled tightly, trousers folded flat, jackets layered on the bottom. Yuuka tucked scarves and gloves into the corners, filling gaps. Their hands brushed once as they reached for the same shirt, and both girls froze for a fraction of a second before resuming silently.

Issei leaned back, scratching his cheek with a sheepish grin. ‘Wow. They really make a good team. If it were just me, I’d have turned this thing into a wrinkled disaster.’

Finally, Weiss zipped the pack shut with a crisp motion. The bulge of extra clothing was obvious, but the bag was neatly packed, balanced for the weight.

“There.” She dusted her hands, satisfaction flickering across her face. “That should last us until we encounter another opportunity.”

“Yeah,” Yuuka agreed, her tone softer as she tightened her scarf. “It feels… safer, having spares..”

Issei swung the pack over his shoulders, the straps creaking faintly. He flashed them a grin. “Good thinking, right? Admit it—you’d both be lost without me.”

Weiss sniffed, turning sharply toward the door. “Don’t push your luck, Issei.”

Yuuka rolled her eyes, though her lips curved into a small smile. “Still… thanks, Issei.”

He blinked, caught off guard by her sincerity. “Uh—yeah. No problem.”

With their supplies ready, the three of them stepped out of the clothing room, the yellow hallway stretching ahead once more. The buzzing lights hummed, the damp carpet squelched, and the endless maze awaited.

—----------------------------------------------

As Azula walked through the endless halls. Her boots squelched faintly against the damp carpet, each step echoing into the empty stretch of hallways that never seemed to end. The yellow walls stretched on forever—identical, repeating, suffocating. Some halls were narrow, forcing her to march shoulder to shoulder with the peeling wallpaper, while others ballooned into cavernous rooms where her footfalls felt swallowed by distance. Yet the pattern never truly changed. Same hum. Same light. Same decay.

At first, she carried herself with the imperious grace befitting the Fire Nation’s princess. Chin raised, spine straight, steps sharp and decisive. Even here, in this foul maze, she would not falter. Azula was not one to be cowed by silence or shadows. She wore her authority like armor.

‘They are lucky to have me as their leader. Without me, Ty Lee would be reduced to nothing but a clown. Mai would be some bitter shadow of herself, wasting her skill on nothing. And Zuko… pathetic, sniveling Zuko. He’d still be chasing shadows of the Avatar, failing at every turn.’

The thought made her lips curl into a small smirk. For a while, she let it buoy her.

But then the silence began to shift.

At first, it was subtle—a flicker in the buzz of the lights, a distortion in the echo of her own footsteps. She brushed it off. But as she turned corner after corner, as she entered room after room only to find the exact same yellow walls and moldy carpet waiting for her, the silence deepened. The hum became oppressive, drilling into her skull.

Then came the voices.

“Azula.” Her head snapped around, eyes narrowing. Nothing. Only the faint flicker of a light overhead.

She forced herself to breathe, rolling her shoulders. ‘I am not weak. I am not afraid. This place will not break me.’

“Disappointing. I thought you were better.” Her heart lurched before she could steel herself. That voice—her father’s. Ozai’s tone was cold, flat, and commanding. She had heard it so many times before, shaping her, molding her, praising her when Zuko failed… and yet now, it dripped with contempt.

“You are nothing without me.”

Her fists clenched, nails digging into her palms. “You will not speak to me like that,” she muttered to the empty hall. “I am your prodigy. I am perfection.”

But then another voice slid through the buzzing, soft and warm but sharp as a blade.

“My poor, monstrous child.”

Azula stopped dead. The voice was Ursa’s—her mother’s. That gentleness she had longed for, now tainted with accusation.

“No,” Azula hissed, turning in circles, her eyes wide. “You left me. You abandoned me. You do not get to call me that!”

But the words echoed, again and again. Monster. Monster.

Her mask of composure cracked. She picked up her pace, boots striking harder against the carpet. ‘It’s not real. None of it’s real. They’re not here. I’m in control. Always in control.’

“Azula…”

This time, the voices were higher, familiar. Ty Lee’s trembling softness, Mai’s flat tone. She could see them in her mind’s eye—turning to her, their gazes no longer loyal or admiring, but fearful. Disgusted.

“You scare us.” 

“We can’t follow you anymore.”

Azula’s steps faltered. For just a moment, her throat tightened. “No… you wouldn’t… you’re mine. You wouldn’t betray me.”

The walls seemed to lean closer, pressing in, the buzzing louder now, almost like laughter.

And then came the final voice. Harsh. Spiteful.

“I hate you.” Her breath hitched. Zuko.

Her brother’s face flashed in her mind—not weak, not pathetic, but filled with hatred. For her. For all she had done.

“No!” She shouted, fire sparking at her fingertips. The flames flickered wildly, illuminating the endless yellow around her. “You’re nothing without me! NOTHING!”

Her words echoed back to her, hollow, mocking.

She staggered forward, clutching at her temples. Her carefully constructed mask of confidence was fracturing, piece by piece. The voices, the sameness, the endless walls—everything was pressing down on her, suffocating her in a cage of her own making.

Her breaths grew shallow, frantic. Sweat beaded on her forehead despite the stale cold of the air. The composure she prided herself on slipped away, replaced by the twitch of paranoia in her amber eyes.

—--------------------

At this moment was when something else stirred.

The air grew heavier, denser. The buzzing of the lights deepened into a drone, like the low screeches were heard of various hidden beasts. The moldy scent thickened, sour and rotten.

In the distance, down one of the endless corridors, came a sound.

Thud.

Slow. Heavy. Too deliberate to be an echo. Another.

Thud.

—------------------------

Azula’s breath came ragged, her usually sharp amber eyes wild with frantic motion. The walls felt as if they were closing in, the voices of her family drilling through her skull—monster, disappointment, hatred. Her fingers twitched violently, flames bursting at her fingertips as if to drown them out.

“Silence!” She shrieked, hurling a fireball at the empty wall where her mother’s face had just shimmered. The wallpaper blackened, mold sizzling away, the stench of burning rot filling her lungs. But when the smoke cleared, the whispers persisted.

“You’re weak.”

“You scare us.” 

“You’re all alone.”

“No!” Another jet of blue fire erupted from her hands, washing across the carpet, leaving only scorched threads and thick smoke. The flickering fluorescent lights sputtered above her, shadows dancing madly. She turned in circles, every phantom voice met with flame, every hallucination consumed by her fury.

But the more she raged, the more the world answered.

Her negativity spilled out like a beacon, her aura of paranoia and wrath echoing through the endless yellow halls. And the predators lurking in the void heard.

The first sign was the skitter.

Faint, barely audible over the hum, but distinct—thin legs scraping across the carpet, across the walls. Then came the sound of mandibles clicking together, like bone snapping together. From the shadows of the far hallway, black shapes emerged.

Grimm.

Not Beowolves, nor Ursas, but twisted arachnid forms—Spider Grimm. Their bodies sleek obsidian with bone white plating, their many legs sharp as blades, their red markings glowing faintly in the buzzing light. Dozens of eyes, like molten rubies, focused on her trembling figure.

Azula’s chest tightened, her paranoia spiking. “You dare—” She spat, her voice cracking. “You dare mock me?! Another illusion?!”

The spiders clicked in unison. Then the world shifted.

Their aura of corruption rippled into her mind, weaving new hallucinations. The yellow halls twisted, replaced by visions of her past. Ty Lee cowering away, Mai turning her knives against her. Zuko, standing tall and proud, glaring down at her with hate-filled eyes. Her father’s shadow, looming, whispering the word disgrace.

Azula screamed, fire bursting from her hands in a wild wave. The blue flames incinerated the nearest spiders instantly, their chitin cracking and blackening as they screeched. The walls blackened, smoke choking the air. But where one Grimm fell, two more crawled in from the shadows, climbing across the ceiling, their legs tapping a steady rhythm like a death knell.

She spun, her hair whipping wildly, eyes wide as she threw jet after jet of flame, each one brighter, hotter, less controlled.

“You will not control me! You will not mock me! I AM NOT A FAILURE!”

The firestorm answered her fury, roaring down the halls, consuming racks, walls, and carpet. The mildew stench was drowned by acrid smoke, the air shimmering with heat. The fluorescent lights burst overhead one by one, glass raining down as the inferno spread.

But the spiders kept coming. Their illusions grew stronger, their phantom voices overlapping with her real memories until she could no longer tell which was which. Her mother’s voice screamed at her from the ceiling. Her brother’s shadow darted between the Grimm’s legs. Ty Lee’s laugh twisted into a cry of fear.

“NO!” sShe roared, flinging fire in every direction.

The flames spread uncontrolled, painting the yellow halls in sickly orange. Azula’s breath came in sobs now, her composure shattered. Sweat streaked her face, her vision blurred by heat and paranoia. Every inch of her screamed to burn, to destroy, to silence the voices.

The Spider Grimm shrieked as their bodies crisped to ash under her fury, but more poured in endlessly, drawn like moths to her fire and her pain. The more she fought, the more they came, their skittering claws echoing like a chorus of derision.

And yet Azula could not stop.

Her flames spiraled higher, licking across the ceiling, racing down the hall. Control was gone. The princess of the Fire Nation, the girl who prided herself on precision and discipline, had become a beacon of chaos—lost in paranoia, swallowed by her own bending, unable to stop the inferno that consumed both her enemies and herself.

And still the voices whispered: Monster. Disgrace. Alone.

—----------------------------

The trio had been walking for what felt like hours again, their footsteps muffled by the soggy carpet. The sameness of the yellow halls pressed on their minds, but it was broken this time by something new—something out of place as they came across a multi-hall pathway leading to various hallways.

But it was then that Issei sniffed the air and wrinkled his nose. “Uh… do you guys smell that?”

Yuuka’s expression twisted as she sniffed too. “Yeah… it’s like—smoke?”

Weiss came to a sudden halt, holding her rapier in caution. Her blue eyes sharpened as she tilted her head, listening. The faint crackle of something distant reached their ears, accompanied by a haze of black drifting from the left hallway of the crossroads before them.

“Something is burning,” She said firmly. “And from the sound it's not something small.”

But before they could decide whether to head toward the smoke, a skittering noise made all three snap to attention.

From the opposite hallway, a spider Grimm crawled into view. Its long, blade-like legs clacked sharply against the damp carpet, and its many glowing red eyes gleamed under the buzzing lights.

Yuuka gasped and raised her pipe, ready to swing, and Issei clenched his fists. Weiss’s rapier gleamed in the fluorescent glare. But then…

The Grimm ignored them. It scurried past, heading straight down the hallway where the smoke was spilling.

“…What the hell?” Issei muttered, lowering his guard slightly.

Yuuka frowned, her knuckles tightening on her weapon. “Wait? Why didn't it attack us? It didn’t even look at us.”

Weiss’s brows furrowed deeply. “That’s… highly unusual. Grimm are drawn to humans by instinct, especially through the emotions we emit. For it to ignore us completely…”

Issei blinked, gears turning in his head. “Maybe it's distracted or maybe something else has its attention?”

“Curious.” Weiss replied grimly. “The only thing that could pull a Grimm away from prey standing right in front of it is a person giving off stronger emotions,” 

Issei's eyes widened as he quickly realized something. He looked back toward the smoke with worry. “Someone must be in trouble.”

Yuuka turned to Weiss and Issei, her expression uncertain. “If that’s true… What do we do? Go after it?”

Issei clenched his fist, eyes fierce. “Of course we do. There’s someone out there who needs help. We can’t just sit here and do nothing.”

Weiss’s lips pressed into a thin line, her gaze never leaving the black haze drifting down the hallway. “Wait, let's think. That smoke isn’t from a small fire. Whoever is there must have lost control of themselves—or their power. If we charge in blindly, we’ll be fighting Grimm and fire at the same time would be suicide.”

Issei frowned, irritation tugging at his chest. “What’s there to think about? There’s someone in distress. We go and we help them.”

Weiss’s head snapped toward him, her eyes sharp as ice. “And if it’s too much for us to handle? What then? What happens if we’re trapped in flames, surrounded by Grimm, unable to retreat? We’ll be walking straight into a death trap. You, me, Yuuka—all of us.”

The words hit him hard. His chest tightened, his throat dry. He glanced at the two girls—Yuuka clutching her weapon nervously, Weiss’s eyes sharp but filled with unspoken worry.

‘She’s right,’ He realized bitterly. ‘If we rush in headfirst because of something that might already be hopeless, I could be dooming all of us. I can’t do that to them.’

Issei exhaled slowly, forcing down the instinct to argue. His shoulders slumped slightly as he muttered, “…You’re right. I don’t want to endanger either of you.”

The silence between them grew heavier, broken only by the faint buzz of the fluorescent lights and the slow curl of smoke creeping across the ceiling tiles. Weiss’s lips pressed together in a hard line, her rapier gleaming faintly as she thought.

Finally, she exhaled sharply, her voice crisp but steady. “Then we’ll head in—carefully. With great precaution. If the situation proves hopeless, we leave. Immediately.”

Issei blinked at her, surprise flickering across his face. Yuuka’s eyes widened, her pipe lowering an inch. Both stared at Weiss as though she had said something entirely unexpected.

Weiss noticed instantly. She whipped her head toward them, cheeks tinged faintly pink. “What?”

Yuuka smiled nervously, her voice pitched high. “I-I just didn’t think you’d actually agree to go help…”

“Same here,” Issei added, scratching his cheek with an awkward grin. “You sounded so against it before. Thought you’d tell me I was being reckless again.”

Weiss turned away, her long coat shifting with the motion. She gave a sharp “hmph,” lifting her chin. “Don’t misunderstand. I am just being cautious and am not a heartless monster. I want to save whoever this is just as much as you do. I simply refuse to do so blindly.” Her blue eyes cut toward them, icy but carrying a flicker of warmth she couldn’t quite hide. “I won’t lead us into certain death without a plan.”

Issei and Yuuka exchanged a look, both of them biting back grins. There was something strangely endearing about Weiss trying to mask her concern behind cool logic.

“…Adorable,” Yuuka muttered under her breath, just quiet enough for Issei to hear.

Issei chuckled softly, leaning close. “Totally adorable.”

Weiss snapped her gaze toward them, her cheeks coloring deeper. “I heard that. Both of you. If you wish to continue this journey alive, I suggest you hold your tongues.”

“Y-Yes, ma’am,” Issei said quickly, holding up his hands. Yuuka giggled, hiding her mouth behind her sleeve.

With that, Weiss turned her attention back to the hall, composing herself. “Enough wasting time. Prepare yourselves. We don’t know what we’ll find ahead.”

The three of them grew quiet then, the weight of the unknown settling in. Issei adjusted the straps of his backpack, feeling the weight of the spare clothes inside shift against his shoulders. Yuuka steadied her pipe in her hands, trying not to let her nerves show. Weiss tightened her grip on her rapier, the polished blade catching the faint glow of the buzzing lights.

Together, they faced the hallway filled with smoke.

The air was thicker here, the acrid scent of burning carpet and wallpaper stinging their noses. Shadows flickered faintly down the corridor as if the fire itself was moving. Their footsteps echoed quietly as they began to walk, every sense sharpened, every muscle tense.

None of them spoke now. They all knew—whatever lay at the end of this hall would not be simple.

And yet, side by side, they pressed forward.

Done. Tell me what you think and if I made any mistakes.