Big mistake. Big, big, big mistake.

The seven-year old was now pinned against the wall, his left eye searing with pain, and wondering where the heck the fellow seven-year old (not to mention bigger, stronger, and—oh yeah, the older brother of his best friend) had suddenly materialized from. Zuko scrunched up his face as though preparing himself for another punch to the eye; thankfully, it never came.

“Gran-Gran!” Sokka hissed in protest, swinging his arms as his elderly grandmother took hold of his shoulders and pulled him away from Zuko. “Look at what he did! Look at Katara!”

Yes, Zuko decided. It had been a very big mistake to mention to Katara that he wondered what her hair would look like short, and that maybe it wouldn’t get into her face so much if it were, or how it would be less of a hassle and then her Gran-Gran wouldn’t have to torture her with brushing it (was that mass of tangles even possible to brush?).

In the bathroom sat the five-year old, perched comfortably on the sink. Clumps of thick brown hair decorated the floor and beside her were a pair of scissors. Being five as well as incapable of realizing a horrifying ‘do even if one were to pop up in her face and scream “Boo!”, Katara could be found admiring her new haircut and grinning ear-to-ear.

Perhaps the situation wasn’t so bad after all. She liked it, at least, and had even given him a hug and a twinkie afterward as rewards. And Katara’s grandmother had always been a polite, calm, and patient woman. Maybe she wouldn’t get—

A shriek pierced his ears.

“You’re dead.” Sokka grinned maliciously.

Zuko did the only thing he could think of: he turned and ran.