🥬 *but it lands in front of him.*
Send a 🥬 to throw a cabbage at Zuko.
He stared down at the small, round cabbage that had just bumped into the toe of his boot with all the menace of a turtle-duck. He looked up at Korra —barely past toddlerhood, hair in messy little loops, a determined expression on her face as she stood across the courtyard with both fists clenched and a wide, defiant stance.
“I threw it at you!” she declared.
Zuko blinked. Then looked down at the cabbage again. It hadn't broken. It hadn't even tilted. It just sat there, lightly scuffed from the journey.
“…Did you,” he said, carefully neutral.
Korra nodded fiercely, chest puffed out. “Because you looked serious. And I’m training. That was an attack.”
Zuko let out a breath through his nose, not quite a sigh, more of a restrained laugh. He nudged the cabbage lightly with the side of his foot, watching it roll a few inches and stop again.
“I see,” he said dryly. “A surprise ambush.”
Korra beamed. “Exactly!”
He crouched slowly, picking up the cabbage with both hands like it was a relic from a simpler time. The weight of it felt familiar, bringing old memories to his mind. “I knew someone who’d be proud of this,” he muttered. “Unfortunately for me.”
Korra was already bending to grab another. “Can I do it again?”
Zuko rose, straightened his back, and looked her in the eye. “…Not until I get some armor on,” he said gravely.
Korra’s delighted laugh echoed off the courtyard walls.
