Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Katara was sixteen years old when they moved to Mythbrook. She couldn't forgive her father for separating her from the ocean. Her life-giving force. After crossing the city border, she felt as if she had gone back to the fifties of the last century. Mythbrook was shrouded in fog at this time of year. The town was archaic, as if from another era, well-groomed, with evenly trimmed lawns and fancifully trimmed shrubs. Driving Maple Lane for the first time, she couldn’t help but notice that the architecture was also harmonious and coherent, subordinate. Rows of pastel houses, without white fences or any enclosure. In front of each of them, a column of sprawling trees, with wide trunks – hornbeams or sycamores – with equally spreading branches forming a lush green tunnel above the road and high, slender lanterns, straight from nineteenth-century London. Here and there green squares, on which stood stone monuments. It looked like one of those aesthetic movie or TV towns. An ideal, textbook place for earthbenders. But she was not an earthbender.

Katara was sixteen years old. Skin swarthy, from constant exercise on the beach. Temperament untamed. She never removed the blue medallion from her neck, the only memento of her mother. Although these were the first qualities you noticed when you looked at her, Katara was convinced that her characteristic, what defines her, is her magic. She thought she was a powerful water bender. But she lacked humility. Because although her talent was unprecedented, it was raw, unhewn. And maybe it was enough in her small village, where there were few benders. But Toto, we weren't in Kansas anymore. Or Hawaii in this case.

Half-measures at Mythbrook are not enough. They will eat you alive. Despite this, Hakoda decided that it was a suitable place for the development and future of his children. Although Katara thought otherwise, he haven’t done it to make her angry, but thought only of her. Sometimes he had remorse because he actually put his daughter in the foreground by making a decision, belittling Sokka. But he loved both of them the same.

There was nothing unusual about Mythbrook. No mysterious vampires, no programmed wives, no dancing ban. Ordinary small-town boredom and kids fleeing to the neighboring large metropolis at the closest possible opportunity. It was not surprising. There was a playground, shops, a café. There was a lack of thrill, adrenaline. Adults worked from nine to five. The school cycle was equally normalized.

School was the only entertainment. The teenagers spent most of the day there, for most of the week. Girls gossiped in the school yard. The boys owed them nothing, doing the same on the stairs in front of the entrance. They spent time together, ate lunch, played games, interfered with lessons. As in any normal school. Mythbrook School was slightly different from other schools though.

Katara noticed this as soon as she started reading the letter with the school layette. Apparently, she was not alone, as the white door of her new room opened with a bang. She was laying on the bed, with metal, rounded handrails, in a shade slightly darker than the door. On the evenly distributed bedding lay a plaid, in the color of a summer, cloudless sky.

“Did you see it? What the hell is that?” Her brother laid down next to her. Still laying on her stomach, she couldn't see his face. “Three white shirts. Three red or green or blue or yellow shirts. Two red or green or blue or yellow ties. Two black sweaters...

“Two skirts above the knee plaid, in red or green or blue or yellow. Two skirts in front of the knee in black. Two skirts over the knee in black... “She sighed as she put down the paper. “I have the same thing.”

“I didn't think it was one of those schools.”

“Me too Sokka” She answered quietly, playing with the tip of a thick braid.

“You're not nervous, aren’t you?” He asked, twisting on his stomach. Now they were laying shoulder to shoulder.

“No. Maybe a little. There was no school on the island at all. I liked homeschooling. But I think it will be interesting.”

“Sooo… Do you think I can buy a red tie, a green shirt and a blue jacket?” They both started laughing.

***

'Elite Clothes  &  Tailor' was run by a charming woman with her young son. Through the brown grilles in the shop window, you could see mannequins and folded clothes. Inside, it smelled of pine. Under the dark walls in the color of bottle green stood rows of wooden wardrobes. In the corner stood a single lamp on a thin leg. Next to it were two, slightly worn armchairs made of brown leather. The whole room gave the atmosphere of a club for gentlemen from the twenties.

“Let me guess dear ones. School starts in a week and you still don’t have a layette?” The three of them nodded their heads in turn. “Do we complete the whole set from scratch?”

“Yes.”

“What is your element?”

"I am a waterbender," Katara replied proudly.

“I don't have the element...” Sokka added, as if embarrassed.

“Don't worry, love. What kind of people do you come from? Also a tribe of water?” The boy nodded. “See? And after the problem. Please stand on the platforms. Haru  will measure you.”

They headed towards the circular platform, in front of each of them stood three long mirrors, reflecting the whole figure. The boy took turns collecting measures, writing them down in a small notebook.

“So what group did you decide to join?”

“Group?”

“At school” He replied as if it were obvious.

“Popular one? Certainly not nerds. That's what we have Katara for, right?” He smiled broadly and sarcastically at his sister.

“I meant classes” Haru  nodded his head in amusement.

“Oh right, classes...” The boy saw that they had no idea about anything.

“Benders have their own activities, improving their talents and teaching them control. Each element has its own class and master. Those who are not gifted must choose something for themselves. No one in this school can hang around," he laughed again. Apparently, Haru was cheerful by nature. “There are classes in cooking, technical, martial arts...”

“Martial arts, I will definitely choose martial arts.”

“Aren't you afraid they'll kick your ass?” Katara made fun of her brother.

“No. You know what I can do, we've been practicing together since we were children.”

“If I were you, I would be afraid. There’s this junior, Suki. Insurmountable.

“Well, I'm not afraid of him.”

“Sure you are not.” He smiled again, while shaking his head.

Haru gave his mother the measurements, and she came back with an armful of clothes, a list probably learnt by heart long time ago.

“We have a basic version and a bit more expensive, more diverse.”

Embarrassed, Hakoda wondered for a moment. Katara and Sokka looked at each other and nodded their heads in in accordance.

“We’d like the basic version.” They replied at the same time.

The woman smiled warmly, looking at their father with parental understanding.

***

Mythbrook School was like from a movie. An aesthetic masterpiece. Although autumn was just beginning, the leaves fell from the trees, forming a shapeless, golden carpet on the driveway. It creaked under the soles as Katara and her brother took uncertain steps behind the steel gate. The school building was hidden in the depths of the property. They didn't talk, both of them trying to face the situation in their own way.

“Katara, do you see what I see?”

Behind the monumental oak there was a lot of land. Well, maybe the castle was an exaggerated term, but manor, the noble, wealthy, impressive manor house was the most correct. The building made of red, burnt brick was full of white cavernous, checkered windows. The path led directly to the main entrance, in front of which stood a round fountain, made of white stone. Water slowly flowed down four plates, each of which was decorated with different symbol, assigned to a particular element. The massive stone staircase was topped with mahogany double doors, with golden knockers in the shape of lions' heads. The building was arranged in a horseshoe, with the main part withdrawn. Here and there you could see soaring turrets and chimneys. On the side wall of the building lazily wied ivy. It smelled like damp bark and rain.

“They have elan don’t they?” She nervously smoothed out her short pleated skirt.

“I didn't know it was a private school.”

“This isn’t a private school.”

“I don't care about the legal status. And you know I'm right.”

Slowly, shoulder to shoulder, they moved to the entrance. From the main square there was a buzz heard from afar, characteristic of the first day. In the windows on the ground floor, you could constantly see groups of students passing by. Someone quickly ran up the stairs. Someone threw a paper plane. Someone shouted someone's name, waving their hands over their heads. Each of them was dressed in some variation of uniform. Shorter skirts and knee-high socks. Long pants, white shirts and ties. Collars of colorful shirts protruding from under black sweaters. Despite this diversity, everything looked consistent. Just before the entrance, on the roundabout that was formed by the fountain, a black limousine was parked. Three sixteen-year-olds stood by the car. They all had sailor uniforms. Black pleated skirts, reaching to the middle of the calf, which gently undulated in the wind. The lowest of them tied brown hair in a fancy braid. Her facial features were mild, something warm was glowing from her. She chewed gum, shooting a pink balloon every now and then. The taller one watched everything with a bored expression on her face. From time to time, she smoothed down the black straight hair that cascaded down her back. Some of it was fastened into two small buns. Both of them had white shirts with short sleeves. On the cuffs, fancy patterns were embroidered with red thread. The girl standing between them was of medium height. She tied her dark hair into a single bun, leaving a few loose strands. She was beautiful. Keen eyes and full lips. Her face, however, was contorted with a slightly ominous, mocking smile. Unlike her friends, her blouse was black, with long puffy sleeves. A red ribbon protruded from under the collar on the front of the clothes. They were definitely a variety of, more expensive versions of uniforms.

“And who is that?” Azula, the girl standing in the middle, asked rhetorical question as the siblings passed their vehicle at a distance. In her hands loosely lowered along her body, she played with small, blue flames.

“Am I delusional or this boy was handsome?”

“Ty Lee, I don't think you're serious,” Mai replied in a voice as bored as her face.

Sokka involuntarily turned his head looking at the personalities. Entering through the door, he whispered to his sister.

“I thought uniforms were there to make everyone equal.”

Apparently, there were equal and more equal.

***

Though she didn't realize it, Katara learned quickly under the watchful eye of the masters. Something that took others months she assimilated in weeks. Until now, however, she had not received professional education, so she was still lagging behind the whole class. She was frustrated, not realizing the things she was doing. Her peers also didn’t see the above-average potential of Katara. One of the guys would make jokes from time to time, controlling her exercise water, or spilling it on oak wardrobes standing against the walls, or sapphire curtains hanging between them. The only person who saw the girl's abilities was a white-haired Yue of delicate beauty, who always studied others more closely. She knew that this was a useful trait in making friends. After one of the morning classes, she hastily packed her things into a brown leather bag. She wrapped her fingers on the strap over her shoulder and stood in front of the girl.

“Hi, I'm Yue. I thought we could practice this sequence together” she smiled cheerfully.

“I know I can't do it. You don't have to point it out to me," Katara burped, a bit angry.

“I meant that training together would give us a lot. I did it correctly only once in an hour.”

“You're right, I’m sorry. I'm just tired of it. No matter how much work and effort I put in, I still can't catch up with the rest.”

“My father used to say that by comparing yourself with others, you can become vain and bitter, for you will always find better and worse than yourself. Maybe it's worth to stop comparing and focus on yourself?” The girl smiled gently again. Katara looked at her with a piercing look. As if she could read the girl's thoughts and intentions behind it.

“As for these exercises... I have a big yard.”

“Sounds perfect.” Together they went towards the chemistry room.

***

Katara wasn't the only one who had difficulty adapting and being irritated. Sokka had trouble learning. He was an intelligent boy, so he made up for the shortcomings with logic, but not every subject required the ability to think logically. He was open-minded, and yet he couldn't find a friend. He became a bit alienated. One evening he couldn't stand it. Like every night, he practiced with his sister in the yard behind the house. They've been doing this since they were children. Katara didn’t use her power when she fought with her brother. They thought it was more fair that way. Thanks to this, the girl unconsciously perfected herself in combat. She was more durable, both in condition and in pain. Stronger than most girls her age. More agile, taking steps with grace. Most benders based their advantage on their talents, honing them. They saw no point in fighting.
The sun, half hidden behind the horizon, cast the last golden rays of light.

“Sokka, don't you think it's enough?” She was panting heavily, standing a few meters from her brother.

“That's all I have left, Katara. Fighting is all I have.” He replied somewhat desperately, approaching her.

“Sokka...”

“I just wish that I could be like all those cool kids," he sighed pitifully, interrupting her in mid-sentence. “Because all the cool kids… They seem to fit in.”

He sat down on the ground, nervously pulling out clumps of grass on his sides. The sister came closer, kneeling beside him. Still wet with sweat, her hands grabbed him by the wrists to stop.

“You are cool Sokka.”

Sokka couldn’t find a friend. That was until Suki returned from a family vacation.

It's been a little over a month since the start of the year when he crossed the threshold of the training room on a sunny Monday morning. It was the only room he entered with his head held high. He didn't keep the books by his side. Moronic snow-white shirts didn’t wrap on his shoulders. No one told him to fix the loose tie. Above all, however, Sokka felt confident in the fight. He was the best. Even if someone wanted to, no one could mock his technique. The blue T-shirt adhered tightly to the muscular body, but didn’t restrict its movements, and he tied slightly long hair on the top of his head so that it wouldn’t block his view. Sokka may not have been a bender, but his element was fighting.

A girl sitting on one of the mattresses, laying under a row of ceiling-long windows, put down her phone, looking over his right shoulder.

"Suki!" She screamed sharply, while rising.

Boy turned around, following her with his eyes. From under the hood of the green sweatshirt protruded a few brown strands. She wasn't tall. Two maybe three centimeters taller than Katara. She accentuate her eyes with an expressive red shadow.

“I can finally meet this famous... You are a girl?!”

“And you are...?” She measured him with a half-hard and half-curious gaze.

“...Theo and Joo Dee, Sokka and Suki...” Instructor enumerated pairs for class.

“I won't fight her. She's a girl!”

“This is beyond dispute.”  He cut short, making it clear that he wouldn’t debate again. “Jet and...”

“So it was Sokka, wasn’t it?” Girl tilted her head, with a feiful smile. “Are you afraid that you won’t win?”

“Are you kidding? I don't want to hurt you.”

“Sure thing you don't.” Suki spread an olive fan, covering the lower half of her face. She bent her legs at the knees, taking a position.

“You are you going to dance or what?”

***

The strands still damp after the shower, fell on his forehead as he sloppily tied his tie. The top button of the shirt left unbuttoned. He walked out of the still crowded changing room, heading towards the women's locker room. He leaned against the white wall next to the door, feigning nonchalance. From time to time, groups of girls came out of the room, glancing at him and giggling. The one he was looking for wasn’t among them. In five minutes he would start a history lesson, but he didn't care. Finally, brown-haired girl, dressed in a black skirt and a white blouse, closed the door behind her. She looked at him, raising an eyebrow in amusement, but left without a word. He stared at her back for a moment before following her.

“Are you lost?” She still hasn't looked at him.

“I was wrong. You took me down. That's what you want to hear?” He replied irritated.

He followed her down the corridor, constantly walking in her way. She maneuvered carefully, avoiding him and passing students.

“Tell me something I don't already know.”

Every now and then he would lean over her from behind or put his hand on the wall blocking the passage. He didn’t stop her for a moment, she took steps lightly, as in a dance. Finally, she stopped in front of a row of gray lockers. She opened one at the height of her head, separating herself from the boy standing next to her.

“Teach me. Please.”

When he couldn't see her face, she allowed herself one radiant smile. She returned to a neutral expression. She looked out of the locker for the first time, looking directly at him.

“I don't know. You could hurt me.”

"Sorry! Okay? Forgive me.”

“I don't want your apology. I want respect.”

The boy didn’t answer, no longer paying attention to her. She turned around, following his gaze. In the middle of the corridor, with her back to them stood a girl in a blue uniform, with hair braided in a thick braid. Opposite her stood a brunette with an angry expression on her face. They were arguing about something, but from that distance she couldn't tell the specific words. However, she knew very well who started this dispute. She turned to the girl in a red cashmere sweater.

“Azula. Enough.” She said shortly and sharply.

The girl looked at her briefly. She said the last word, with the intention of leaving. However, she remained in the same place. Flush began to appear on her cheeks. Red spots were also slowly present on the neck and décolleté.

“Stop. It hurts.” She growled, grabbing herself by the ribcage.

“Katara...” She turned only to the sound of the calm whisper of her brother, who was now standing next to her. The grimace disappeared from her face, replaced by misunderstanding.

“I didn't do anything.”

“I think you boiled the water in her blood.” Suki appeared on the other side of her. She responded calmly, albeit with a slight fear.

“She has no self-control. Just like Zuko.”  This time Azula left the group. Two friends followed her like shadows.

***

At dawn, on her seventeenth birthday, Katara entered the attic. Like she often did. She passed a few dusty boxes, heading towards the window. She opened it, then climbed onto the window sill, placing a cup of coffee next to her. She pulled her legs up to her chest, resting her chin on her left knee. With her right hand, she began to draw unnamed patterns on it. She looked at the surrounding buildings, but she saw the whole of Mythbrook. All the houses so similar to her own. With wooden, bright façade. A veranda running around the side wall. Wooden pillars supported on brick foundations, on which shoots of plants in pots flowed. A protruding attic, in the shape of a triangle, with a gable roof, the same one on which she was sitting. In her head she saw a small greengrocer on Jackson Street, whose owner was as stingy as old. School, where she spent more time than at home. A tailor's workshop, where she bought her first uniform. Even the railway tracks looming somewhere on the horizon. She wondered when she had become this small-town girl. It took them a whole year, but the siblings finally adapted. They began to feel at home. Katara, with Yue's help, before the end of the year, was in no way inferior to the rest of the class. Maybe she wasn't the best, she wasn't even in the top three, but she still did better than the averages she didn't have a chance with at the beginning. After classes, they went to the tea house "Huo". Girls hung their jackets on the backs of chairs, loosening blue ties. On a round table, they spread out books, notebooks and highlighters, doing homework together. Somewhere between the third and fourth paragraph, among the pages, the waiter managed to spot the only free place where he could put a jasmine drink. On weekend mornings, they practiced together in Katara's garden. They shared the scrolls given to them by their fathers, showing each other movements and sequences. This yard has never been left empty. Yue came two days a week, Suki twice, and Sokka practiced with his sister on the other three days. Although Katara was a year younger, she helped him with lessons. Soon he became completely average, in the best sense of the word. Contrary to what he believed, he fitted in. With Suki, neither in the classroom nor in school, they had no equal in the fight. They always practiced together, challenging each other and provoking them to push the boundaries further and further. After some time, he befriended the boy next door. He was Sokka’s age and his name was Aang. Together, they looked comical because Aang was much shorter than her brother. However, he still had a good ten centimeters more than Katara. His slender hands were covered with characteristic blue tattoos in the shape of arrows. He’s never took off his orange baseball cap from his head. Besides his father, Aang was the only air bender in Mythbrook. Katara didn't know him very well. He was always quiet and phlegmatic. Withdrawn. When he came to their house, he said nothing but a short ‘hello’, after which he and Sokka locked themselves in a room, playing video games. It took months before he opened up more. Before she could see it, he was part of their pack, which they named "Gaang" after him. The siblings took on a provincial rhythm, fell into a routine. That was until one hot Thursday afternoon. It was about two weeks after the start of the new school year. Katara sat with Yue and Suki on a marble bench in a remote corner of the school courtyard. They basked, stretching out their legs, their faces pointing towards the sun. Every now and then, one of them muttered something over and over, thanking for global warming. There was a sweetish smell of Japanese maple in the air. They took off their jackets, throwing them next to them carelessly. They unbuttoned the upper buttons of their shirts, rolled up the crumpled sleeves. A bee buzzed around the nasturtium flowers. Idyll. Until someone stood straight ahead, casting a long shadow over them.

“Sokka!” They shouted in union, outraged.

“What? I just wanted to...”

“What's going on?” His sister interrupted him, nodding her chin towards the building.

A group of five, maybe six girls looked out of the narrow window on the first floor. They whispered frantically among themselves, leaning over each other. They pointed at something with their fingers, covering their mouths with the other hand. As if on cue, a group of girls, in red and green uniforms, passed by.

“Zuko is back...”

“That's what I heard...”

“After this accident...”

Zuko. She had already heard the name somewhere.

For the other two girls, this shred of conversation was enough. They turned their faces to each other. There was a shock on both of them. Almost at the same moment, they asked.

“Zuko is back?!”

“Who is Zuko?” Sokka said Katara's thought out loud.

“He’s Azula's older brother.”

The aforementioned girl appeared in the right part of the cloister circling the courtyard. She wore short skirt in red check, as usual, she had a fancy white blouse.

“What a pity Zuzu. You will no longer be the most handsome boy in school.” She addressed the teenager walking by, but she clearly spoke in an elevated voice so that it would be heard around the square. Mischievous smile didn’t leave her lips.

Katara hid her hands under her thighs, leaning in curiously. She tilted her head, parting her lips and squinting her blue eyes slightly. He was turned to them sideways. Despite the hot day, he was dressed in a black sweater, from which the collar of a ruby shirt protruded. He was much taller than his sister. In her shoes on a small wedge heel, she barely reached his shoulder, from which a black backpack hung. He could have been Sokka's height, maybe a little taller. His profile was striking. Sharply outlined cheekbones, hard line of jaw. Katara fixed the strand of hair that covered her face.

“Don't worry darling. The whole school was crazy about him,” Suki looked at her with amusement mixed with understanding.

The girl blushed, but didn’t look away from him. His head was down, and untamed, wild, lenghty strands of raven-black hair fell on his face. It was as if he wanted to cover himself. The girl couldn’t understand his attitude. It lacked the certainty characteristic of a boy who, apparently, no girl can resist. It was rather nervous. As if he wanted to escape or disappear. Although every person in the courtyard was watching him, and he was rather far, it was as if he sensed Katara's gaze, he turned his face towards them, crossing his gaze with her. She drew in the air louder, feeling her cage undulating, but she didn’t break the contact.

“What’s with his face?” She asked while still looking at him. She tilted her head even more, in a gesture of even greater interest. Through the left profile, around his eye, there was a scar from a burn, in a shade slightly lighter than his shirt.

“Not long before your arrival, two, maybe three months, Zuko... He was practicing with Azula and an accident happened," Yue said slowly, looking for the right words.

“After the fight, Azula let go of the flame from her hands," Suki said belligerently. Critically.

Why would she do this to her own brother?”

“Azula’s sore loser.”

The boy frowned, then looked away, lowering his head again. Seconds later, he and his sister disappeared into one of the school corridors.

***

Zuko stayed out of the way. Katara haven’t seen him again, although she heard whispers. She tried to pretend that she wasn't impressed by the boy's appearance in town, but the same evening she saw him for the first time, she unsuccessfully tried to track him down on any social media. He was probably the most interesting thing that had happened since their arrival. The only element of mystery in this god-forgotten place. A beautiful blemish on the Mythbrook mirror.

He spent his breaks at school with Aang. They seemed to be good friends before Zuko left. But the girl didn’t feel that the boy spent less time with their pack. On the contrary. On one of the Saturdays, Aang appeared with Sokka in her room, and he unceremoniously threw himself on her bed. In hand above his head he held a phone while browsing Instagram, with the fingers of the other unconsciously began to calmly rub her skin, just above the ankle. Sokka went to the closet looking through her clothes, then dismissively threw them behind him on the floor.

‘Guys! What the hell?” She asked appalled.

“Get ready, we leave.”

“What? Where?”

“This is it, little sister. Last year. This is my year. The year Suki will go on a date with me.”

“Uhuh.” She muttered leniently, focusing her attention again on the screen of the laptop laying in front of her. “And you need our mental support or are you afraid that she won’t want to go when she sees that we are not with you?”

“Very funny. It just so happens that Aang got us four invites to the party. A very fortunate coincidence that Yue spends the day at her grandmother's.”

“Would you go without her?” Katara was outraged.

“No way!” He immediately denied. Then half-heartedly added. “I would have gone without you...”

One of the pillows hit him in the back of the head.

“So what kind of party is it?”

“Just house party in the neighborhood.’

“Ten, maybe fifteen minutes on foot," Aang added.

“And what about dad?”

“I'm supposed to keep an eye on you and we're supposed to come back at a decent hour.” Katara bit her lower lip, thinking.

“Move away from my closet,” she said as she got out of bed.

She was looking for something simple, without exaggeration. She took a black, narrow skirt reaching the middle of her thigh and black, cotton knee high socks.

“Are you crazy?! You can't go to a party in a school uniform. It will be social suicide. Slaughterhouse and not even five.”

“I'm glad you started reading the books, but shut up and trust me.”

“Okay, but don't pick on me when they start calling you Saint Mary," he waved his hand over his shoulder as he left the room. “Come on Aang. We also have to prepare.”

Katara rummaged through the shelves for a while before choosing a plain white T-shirt with the inscription 'Be water  my friend'. White contrasted gracefully with her tanned skin. A short sleeve revealed a white tattoo on her left shoulder. The symbol of their village in the pattern of foamy waves in a circle. Sokka had the same symbol, but much larger, running from the nape, through the right part of the neck. Everyone received it on their fifteenth birthday, during a traditional ritual. Their people valued belonging and loyalty. On her neck, as always, she had a blue ribbon with her mother's pendant. Instead of sneakers, she wore black, suede, laced Lita boots. She swayed into the hallway.

“Sokka, how much time do we have?”

“Half an hour, maybe forty minutes.” She heard from the other room.

This gave her a lot of possibilities. She left her makeup in shades of brown that emphasized the blue of her eyes, only gently refreshing it. She took flesh lipstick from the dressing table, throwing it into her purse. She sat down in front of the mirror, separating her hair into strands. Most of them left dissolved, falling on their backs in waves. She dyed only two thin front strands with a turquoise colored hair spray. From her holiday experiments with Suki and Yue, she was left with at least five bottles in three different colors. When she was satisfied with the color, she circled them around two more strands, falling loosely from the temples, and then tied them at the back of her head, making the blue highlights look like a crown from a laurel wreath. She went out into the hall the same second Sokka was closing the door of his room. He was dressed in a gray, loose T-shirt, on which he put an unbuttoned shirt with a blue and black check. On his black pants, there were drops of water that flowed from his hair after a shower. Aang, also opted for simplicity with black pants and a canary yellow sweatshirt.

“Katara, you look beautiful.” He said softly.

“Thank you.” She didn't know why she blushed. It wasn't the first compliment from the boy's mouth. She looked at her brother, with an expression of victory. “You see, Sokka? You can bite me.”

“Let's go. Suki is already waiting for us there.” He rolled his eyes, and then he was the first to start going down the stairs.

The girl intertwined her fingers with Aang, and they headed down. It was nothing out of the ordinary, they often did that. Katara felt, however, that this was not a purely friendly gesture. She was reminded of the date they had gone on during the holidays. They both said it was one of the most embarrassing experiences in their lives and it's better not to repeat it. Some had better chemistry as friends than a couple, and they were just such a duo. However, sometimes Katara thought about their kiss and wondered if they had made this decision too hastily. She wondered whether to give them a second chance. She wondered if Aang though the same, when he was grabbing her hand or she was sitting on his lap. He did it even before the date, it was as natural as breathing. But then Katara looked at him more like a second older brother. Now she couldn't.

***

Several minutes later, they were approaching the outskirts of the town from the forest side. Katara had been uncomfortable since the sun had set. The sound of leaves and twigs cracking under their feet echoed into the darkness, dying between the trees. However, just moments after entering the forest path, strong vibrations and loud music joined the sound of crushed twigs and foliage. The evenly trimmed lawn in front of the house was illuminated by the spotlight. Rectangular stone slabs arranged among it marked the way to the entrance. The house was stately. Made of wood, concrete slabs and glass, so despite its modern appearance, it fit into the space, creating a feeling of consistency. It consisted of several rectangular and square blocks connected with each other in sophistication, into a geometric, shapeless solid. Through the big windows one could see the people inside. Only in one room upstairs was light was off.

“Zuko's father is the CEO of the corporation he took over from his father.” Aang explained as if he knew exactly what they were thinking. As if he had thought exactly the same thing years earlier.

“Do you want to tell me that you took me to a party at Azula’s?!” Katara exploded.

“No. You heard him, he said Zuko,” her brother interjected.

“Sokka...’ She gave him a warning look. “You know I despise her, with reciprocity. She hates me.”

“Don't exaggerate. She hates everyone.” He saw that it didn't convince her. “Come on. Zuko is Aang's oldest friend. He threw a party to celebrate his return, after this disastrous accident. Aang is your friend. You don't want his happiness?”

Girl sighed submissively. They walked past bushes planted near the garage, formed into perfect balls, passing a few kids talking over a cigarette on the way. Aang squeezed her hand, in an encouraging gesture that was likely to make her brave, and then he let it go, to hold her door open. It wasn't just a house party.

The girls looked towards the entrance in disbelief. They sat on a red, leather sofa placed on the mezzanine in the living room, from where they had an excellent view of the entire ground floor in this part of the building. Each had a different type of glass in their hands.

“What is she doing here?” Azula growled angrily.

“Did she really come to the party in school uniform?” Ty Lee said almost at the same moment.

“You all look as if you had come back straight from baseball practice.”  The girls looked at each other, after Zuko's comment, who, spread out on the couch next to them, watched the room with boredom.

Ty Lee was dressed in a short red skirt, not much longer than her long braided hair, into which she pushed her distinctive blouse with red vertical stripes. However, she left it unbuttoned, so that one could see a black lace bra and a small pendant between her collarbones. Azula wore the same skirt, but she matched it with a black baseball jacket, with gold sleeves and inserts, with a Japanese dragon and flower motif. Tar-colored hair protruded from under a white baseball cap with the symbol of Ozai's Angels, a baseball team sponsored by her father. A black choker was tightened around her neck. Mai was the only one to wear black jeans. She was wearing a T-shirt similar to Ty Lee's, with vertical stripes, but hers was black, with short red sleeves. A golden inscription  Ozai's Angels ran through the middle. She tied the lower part in a knot, leaving her belly exposed. Like Azula, she wore a hat, but a red one, turned back. She tied her hair on the sides in two buns.

“Hot practice.” Mai stood up, heading towards the curly, metal staircase. Her voice was a little offended, a little provocative. She knew that her friends were about to join her, and she began to descend without looking back.

“I'll go look for Suki.” Sokka tried to shout through the music as soon as they went inside.

A glass bottle in the shape of a skull slipped through the surface of the coffee table. Next to it was an open can of Coca Cola and an ashtray full of not even half-smoked cigarettes. A lot of people she didn't know, or only knew by sight, passed red cups to each other or poured alcohol into their mouths straight from the bottles. It was obvious that some of them had long since finished school. A boy was squeezing through the crowd, around who a cloud of smoke with a characteristic smell swirled. A girl in a short white blouse, in black patterns, lay on the table, crushing the other one with her body. Next to her was a tall boy in a hat, who didn't care about them at all, lighting a cigarette for a girl with braids. A teenager with purple lipstick held a rocks glass, in which there was already more ice than whiskey. It was only after a while that Katara recognized her as Mai. Aang kept his hands behind his back, so she could hold him as he led her through the room. On the right, the boy jumped down the stairs on a skateboard, and broke it in half. There was audio equipment in the corner, which made her ears rumble. In the hallway, a girl with large, round earrings tried to fix her makeup, looking in the screen of her iPhone. Katara felt like she had landed on the set of a music video, or a strange movie, because she was convinced that no normal party in the neighborhood was done with such flair. After all, after moving, she was on a few. But looking at the house and the hosts, she knew she couldn't expect anything less than crazy project X. On the other side, Ty Lee appeared. Azula, as usual, closed the entourage in the middle.

“Well, well, well… Who do we have here.” She smiled falsely. Ominously.

Jet sat down next to him on the blood-red couch, his arm colliding with a friend, who now seemed much more interested in the party.

“What’s with Aang? Where did he get that chick from? Did he bring her straight from school?”

“Oh, please. She’s got it, and she knows she’s got it.” Jet looked at him surprised, with a face that said, ‘Dude, what the fuck?’

“Holy Mary.”

“Quite the opposite. If  anything more like Maria from Blondie’s song.” Jet answered with a non-understanding expression on his face. Zuko forgot how few people have good musical taste.

“She moves like she don’t care, smooth as silk, cool as air," he quoted.

“Dude, you must have drunk one too many.” Zuko didn't drink a drop that evening. He watched the situation downstairs.

Aang stood in front of the girl, covering her. He had known Azula all his life. He knew what she was capable of.

“Can I know what you are doing in my house?” She didn't pay attention to the boy, as if he were transparent.

“Azula.” A confident, low voice came from behind said girl. “ From what I remember, it's my party. Guest list as well. You didn't even say hello to Aang. Aang missed you very much, didn't you, Aang?” Katara couldn't see it while standing behind him, but Aang raised the left corner of his mouth slightly. He looked at his friend with a communicative look.

“Right Zuko.”

“Hi Aang,” the brunette strained through clenched teeth.

“Jet is waiting for you upstairs. I guess you don't want to make him wait?” If looks could kill, Zuko would be a dead man, but she left without a word, her fists clamping on the blue flames.

Katara couldn’t recognize him as a boy from school. It’s true that she had seen him only once in her life, and from the distance of the school courtyard, but he didn’t resemble an inconspicuous, oversensitive teenager, who looked like an animal put on display, locked in a cage in the ZOO. He exuded self-confidence, maybe even audacity. Now she could see his old magnetism. Apparently, he also found it.

“Are you alright?” He directed the question towards a friend.

“Now, yes.”

“I’m glad you came," he shook his hand, looking at the teenage girl, who was still clinging to Aang's left arm with both hands, painfully digging her fingers into it. “Isn't this our famous, little enchantress?

‘Enchantress?! I'm as good bender as you, probably even better, you prat. Who do you think you are?’ These were the first thoughts that flew through her head, but Katara knew better than to snap back at the host, especially the one she had just met, who in addition saved her from Azula. So she didn't say it out loud, angrily nodding.

“Yes, that’s Katara.” Aang was not aware of the tension.

“What did you do to mess with my sister? Did you take too loud breath?” Without waiting for an answer, he added “I wish you a lot of fun. Let Mythbrook know that Zuko is back," he winked at them before turning away.

Katara watched his back, the way he moved, and his smoke-hoarse voice still buzzing in her ears, despite the music. Burned face or not, he was devastatingly alluring. The girl had no idea what he looked like before the accident, but she could easily imagine what they were making such a fuss about. Now, well... It’s said that girls are into scars. And apparently he began to realize this.

“Come, I'll make us drinks, while Sokka is not looking.” Aang's voice called her to reality. Again she was standing in the middle of a crowded living room. “Then maybe we can slip through this comical limit of two cocktails.”

He pulled her deep into the apartment. The kitchen was located in the very corner and was as refined as the rest of the interiors, but at the moment it was in chaos. The boy went to the cabinet on the right. It was clear that he felt at home. The room had the shape of a long rectangle. Instead of a wall on the left, windows were inserted, occupying the entire space from floor to ceiling. On the right there was a white table top, on which stood bowls of fruit, overturned bottles or used cutting boards, covered with lime peels and mint residues. Two teenagers, a boy and a girl, took out another one, holding two lemons and a bottle of tequila in their hands. Somewhere in the middle, was a modern stove. At the end of the room, in front of Katara, there was a steel, two-door refrigerator. She was separated from it by the largest kitchen island she had ever seen. It stretched for almost the entire length of the kitchen, as wide as the two islands in her house. By its characteristic gray tints, she easily recognized marble. The bar stools facing the window were probably lined up on a normal day, but not this evening. A sink stretched along the island, in the shape of a withing stream, filled to the brim with ice. It was full of bottles, glass and plastic, of every content. Juices, vodka, whiskey, beer, even bottled water.

“Glass or plastic?” He asked, waving his hands, holding a glass in one, like from a Bond movie, in the other a classic cheap red.

“Cup. I don't want to break something by accident. Those glasses are probably worth as much as my laptop.”  She sent him a half-smile, which he reciprocated.

He scooped up ice and rum. Katara turned towards the window. A group of girls were sitting around a box, eating pizza. Next to the sneakers were Carlsberg cans and a disposable plastic bag. On the lawn slept a bearded boy, wearing sunglasses, with one slide broken. She felt a tap on her shoulder, as she turned, she saw a drink ready beside her head. Aang opted for a dark brown bottle of beer.

“Are we going to dance, or do you prefer to add lightness to your movements first?” He asked, pointing to the cup.

“Why not both?” She replied before taking a big sip, and leading him back to the living room.

They quickly blended in with the dancing crowd, staying close to each other. Although Katara was still completely sober, from time to time she splashed some of her drink around. But since it was Azula’s floor, she didn't have the slightest problem with it. They held drinks over their heads, swaying to a song that radio stations had been playing all summer. She threw her free hand on his neck. He leaned in, whispering something in her ear. She could feel his cheek twitching, probably tickled by her hair. However, because of the music and the bustle, she couldn’t hear him. She turned around, pressing her back to his chest. Still dancing, she pressed the cup to her mouth, clenched her teeth on it, unconsciously smiling. She rose slightly, but in these shoes she didn’t have to exert herself, she was almost the same height as him. She stretched out her head, letting him know she was listening. He leaned in again, this time pressing his lips to her ear to make sure she could hear.

“Hide it. Sokka.” Before she understood the meaning of the words, she heard her brother's voice.

“One, Katara! I see it! You only have one left!” Sokka screamed through the living room. Suki danced next to him. He himself in both hands raised above his head, he waved two bottles of beer, with the same labels as on the one in Aang's hand.  “Aang you have to keep an eye on her! Do you hear Aang?!’

“Yes, sheriff!” He put the beer bottle to his temple, saluting in a mocking gesture.

They remained in this position, dancing until Katara emptied the cup.

“Want another one?”

“I can do it by myself.” She turned around and then added. “I beg you to keep an eye on Sokka.”

She began to squeeze through the dance floor, rubbing against sweaty bodies with her bare shoulder skin. In the kitchen, she stopped in front of the island, wondering what she really wanted.

“And? Have you decided?” She heard a familiar voice next to her.

“What? Are you going to snitch to Sokka?” She laughed.

“How well you know me,” Suki smiled briefly. “I'm already running to him. And now, if you allow, move your butt, you stand perfectly to block the rum.”

“Make it two.” Katara stepped back, handing her the bottle.

“Do you have the strength for the second round on the dance floor, or did Aang exhaust you?” She asked, giving her a full cup.

“Do you even need to ask?” She bowed, gallantly stretching out her hand. “Can I ask you to dance?”

“I'll be honored.” Suki chuckled. Apparently, Sokka's limit didn't apply to her, because it took more than two drinks to get a chuckles out of Suki.

“In fact, I would like to go to the bathroom first.”

“Sure.” She stopped, pointing to the door on the opposite side of the hallway.

She knocked, but in vain. Even if someone screamed, she wouldn't be able to hear them. She gently pressed the handle, and when she felt it give way, she slowly opened the door wider. On the left was a small sink, on which stood a bottle of red wine, reflecting in the mirror. The other was in the sink. Across from the entrance was a bathtub, in which two black boys were sitting, smoking a joint. There was a toilet between the sink and the bathtub. On the closed toilet seat, sat a third teenager who looked like the brother of the two. Through his neck, like a Louis Vuitton’s scarf, he had toilet paper hanging, ending in the bathtub. They began to scream, and though she couldn’t understand a word through the mixed voices, she knew exactly what they wanted from her. She closed the door behind her.

"There's another one upstairs," Suki said.

“How do you know?”

“I was friends with Azula, I used to hang around here quite often.” Katara raised her eyebrows, but didn’t comment. She let herself be led to the upper floor. "In the story of the Three Musketeers, no one ever remembers that there were actually four of them. Poor d'Artagnan.”

This time the bathroom was empty. In the bathtub instead of kids there was ice, drinks and alcohol, but otherwise it didn’t deviate from the norm. When she left, Suki was waiting for her outside the door. They began to walk towards the stairs.

“So... Azula?” Suki rolled her eyes, but not in a gesture of irritation. More as if she hoped to avoid this question. She leaned her back against the cream wall of the corridor, then slowly slided down it, sitting on the carpet. She began to nibble the sleeve of her sweatshirt. Katara followed in her footsteps.

"We've known each other since we were children. Our fathers did business together. Our families were close. We were born on the same day. It's hard to find any pictures from my childhood without her. We were inseparable. I couldn't forgive my parents for sending me to school early, even though we wouldn't have had half of the lesson together. In retrospect, I guess I'm starting to understand why they did it.” She paused for a moment.

Her friend didn't rush her. She wondered what her childhood was like. Three children running on the lawn where the crumpled cups were now. Two girls, in identical dresses, smiling from a faded photo. She couldn't imagine Azula with a smile other than mocking, even as a child. Would Suki be a different person now if they didn't grow up together? Would she have been different if they had still been friends? Would she have been friends with her then?

"I've always admired her confidence," she resumed. "She taught me it. Mai and Ty Lee as well. Their fathers joined the board even before I went to school. It was clear to everyone that we, too, were obliged to become friends. After all, the business didn’t end with the closure of the meeting room door, in which they de facto introduced us. Something like an arranged marriage. Damn they even planned that. Not seriously, they never suggested it directly, but as we played together, they kept saying if it wouldn't be wonderful if one day Zuko and Mai got married. You know how it can irritate a seven-year-old boy, and they didn't stop. Instead of the names of their grandchildren, they were coming up with a name for the company that would include both last names. But even so, we still did what was expected of us. We were a complement to their business card, a fulfilled American family.” She laughed bitterly. "You don't even know how happy they were when it turned out that we really became friends and wanted to spend the night over, over and over again. The fathers called us angels. Azula's father even named a team after us. And sure, I saw what she was. From a young age, she was everything but an angel. But I always found explanations for it. Besides, I only had her and the girls. How could I leave them? We went out together, did some shopping, studied after school, told each other everything. What would happen to our girl power?”

“So what happened?”

“Everyone calls it an accident. But we were there. We saw everything. It wasn't an accident at all. Azula deliberately wounded him. Zuko is a good boy, even if he sometimes acts like a dick. He didn't deserve it. That broke the camel's back. I chose him instead of her.”

“You fancied Zuko.” She more said, than asked.

“But that didn't affect my decision. Maybe a little. The merits was that Azula crossed the last of the lines. I couldn't look for excuses for her anymore.”

They sat for a moment in silence, confronting the words spoken.

“It got gloomy...” Suki sighed deeply, then smiled as if this situation had not happened. “And the party is still going strong. You promised me a dance.”

***

An hour later, she was sitting on the kitchen counter, Aang standing between her legs. They shared a glass with a pink hue drink. Katara had no idea how many times they had already replenished it, but they laughed louder than usual, and she felt lighter than ever.

"I can't believe you're hanging out with him, he doesn't seem like type of friend for you at all. But can’t argue, he’s throwing not so bad parties.

"He's not that bad. I wish you had known him before. He did whatever he wanted and wasn’t bothered by anything. He should have broken his neck so many times, because he wanted to feel alive and did all these stupid and dangerous things. He kept saying he was a God.

"That's my song!" she shouted suddenly, pushing him away from herself and jumping off the counter.

Aang zeroed out what was left at the bottom of the glass as Lana sang that she was an angel in a world full of gods and monsters, and then let himself be dragged to the dance floor dimed in the yellow light of lamps. The melody began slowly and temptingly. The boy at first didn’t know what to do, it wasn’t a typical song to dance. Others apparently thought the same, considering it a good time to refill glasses and for a bit of rest, because the parquet had thinning. A dozen or so couples remained, who pressed against each other, rhythmically rubbing their bodies. The girl slowly raised her hands, twisting her wrists and maneuvering her thin fingers. In her bedroom, she danced to this countless times. She could recreate the whole routine. She placed her hand on his shoulder, slowly drawing her way through his arm until she grabbed his hand. She turned, her back resting on his cage, his hand throwing over her shoulder, so that he enclosed her in a tight embrace. She began to sway, giving them a rhythm. The boy adapted without any problems. Directly opposite her, on the far side of the room, Zuko stood over the crowd, halfway up the spiral staircase, watching them closely. She felt his keen gaze even before their eyes met. He unhurriedly raised his right hand, lazily putting cigarette to his lips. There was something mesmerizing about it. Without breaking eye contact, she continued to dance, singing. Put  your  hands  on my  waist  do  it  softly. Along with the lyrics of the song, she directed Aang's hand to her waist. She did it almost unconsciously, almost without noticing him. She focused all her attention on the piertruding, amber eyes in front of her. Still holding his hand, she pulled it upwards, marking the curvatures of her body. She felt her breath get stuck in her throat. Me and  God  we  don't  get  along. She accentuated the third word, tilting her head, and saw that the brunet understood. Aang no longer danced with her. Although he kept his hands on her hips, making them move in synchronized movements. He was just a backdrop for her. Zuko was surprised that she didn’t start weaving water, her movements were so sensual. Like in a psychedelic trance. Her hands drew strange alluring  patterns, occasionally landing on her body. He could feel his fingertips heating up. They itched, as if they were almost begging him to let them touch her. He slowly released smoke. There was a strange confidence in the movement as she watched him through the dissiphating cloud. With her nails she hooked on the edge of her skirt. He never knew what was about those innocent outfits that made everything bizarrely more appealing. She bowed her head, feeling Aang's wet lips on her neck, and for the first time closed her eyelids in silent pleasure, taking her eyes off his irises.

He felt that the boy behind him was also watching her.

"And now, Jet? Still Holy Mary?” He asked, without turning around. A trickle of smoke escaped from between the fingers clamped on the railing. He blamed it on a dying cigarette.

Before she could notice the song had changed, and Suki took Aang's place again, jumping and singing all over the room. A couple from her English class kissed in the crowd. They laughed, both tipsy living and dancing as if there was no tomorrow. A boy with a camera walked by, confetti was spinning around, and she could only wonder how much cleaning there would be in the morning. They probably had housekeepers for that.

Aang was sitting on the mezzanine, which seemed like Zuko's permanent place at the party. He was looking at the ceiling, smoking joint, that circled between the group sitting there.

“So… Katara?” Zuko asked with a well-hidden curiosity, while watching the dance floor. This is the first time he has seen a friend in such a situation.

At first, Aang didn’t know that the boy was addressing him.

“Katara what?” He asked, not understanding. Zuko sent him a characteristic, suggestive look. “No, no, no. We are not together. Sure, I think about it sometimes. Look at her. She is beautiful and so smart. But just somewhere deep down I know that we could try a million times and it wouldn't work out that way. It is better not to destroy what we have. And she knows that too.”

“She didn't look like she knew it too. And so did you. I thought we were saying everything to each other. I didn't think you would be ashamed to introduce your girlfriend to me.”

“We are just close. We trust each other," Aang replied somewhat irritated. “We’re bot a little lonely sometimes. And we’re not doing anything wrong. It’s not like we’re dating other people. We’re just lonely. But it's not like that. There’s something missing.”

“If you say so.” He decided to let go.

At that time, Aang mechanically handed the joint to the person sitting on the right. A shock passed through his body, as if electrocuted.

“Did you feel that too?” He asked the girl, their fingers still touching, clenched on the object between them.

“Definitely, twinkle fingers.” He looked at her fascinated.

The girl was petite. Much smaller than him. She had a storm of black hair around her head. Her bangs escaped from under the green hairband, covering her eyes. It was only when he shifted his eyes to them, which looked as if they were hidden behind a milky fog, that he realized that the girl couldn’t see him.

“Don't get so excited,” Zuko interjected bored. “Toph, Aang is an air bender. Aang, Toph is an earth bender. Your elements are opposites. It's natural.’

“So you say that the water bender electrocuted you?” The girl asked roguishly.

“Oh, shut up smartass," he replied bristlingly, putting his hands on his chest.

***

He looked around the room, which was illuminated by the golden rays of dawn. Hours earlier, it had been stuffed to the brim. Now he was standing alone in the midst of the mess. Bare feet made a deafening noise in the collision with the Swedish floor as he headed for the kitchen. His movements were unhurried, calm. It was only when the last guest came out, that he took out a whisky glass and poured amber liquor into it. The first glass of the evening, or rather the morning. He wondered if it qualified for drinking before ten o'clock. He didn't seem to pay attention to the battlefield around him. Sticky stains and crushed chips. He took a sip. In the sink, the ice melted almost completely. Only single crystals undulated on the surface next to cigarette butts and empty cans. With his free hand, he took out a bottle of water from it, lifting the other one back into his mouth, and then began to go to his room. He knew that when he got up, the house would shine. With his foot, he closed the door behind him. He dragged himself straight into the massive bed opposite the entrance. He didn't bother with the shower. Halfway through, he put the still full glass on the bedside table, placing the water bottle next to the bed. He took off his clothes, scattering them carelessly, and then threw himself on the bedding.

***

The boy woke up in the morning. Dark bangs fell on his forehead as he sat down to check the text messages. As usual, a few from Jet, who always got up early, one from Aang to book time for him after school, and a few messages from different girls on Facebook that he hadn't replied to the night before. He walked through the room, entering a small dressing room. He lit the light, as it was quite dark, because of the black of the wardrobes in the room. He went to the wall opposite the entrance, where two rows of hangers were attached. On one hung snow-white shirts, on the other pants ironed into a hem. He chose the variance of the red uniform and still tying the tie went downstairs. For a moment he burst into the kitchen, where on the kitchen island there were prepared two sets with a lunch for him and his sister. He put the package into his backpack, and went to the garage, scooping up his leather jacket on the way. In the corner was a classic motorcycle, in retro style. Like everything Zuko owned, it was black and red. He took his helmet out of the seat and put his backpack in its place. He waited for the gate to open enough for him to leave, then closed the helmet cover. He was always impatient. There were five girls standing in front of the school. As always, they gave him a few flirtatious glances, appraising him with their eyes. He knew what he was doing when he asked for a motorbike for his sixteenth birthday. He took off his helmet, threw them a sly, flirty smile, blinked and ran up the stairs, laughing at their reaction in his head.

“Man, last night party was fucking awe-time.” Jet appeared near his locker before the first lesson.

“What can I say... I'm the best.” Closing the locker door, he noticed the girl, nodded his head in a gesture of greeting. “Suki.”

“Zuko.” She answered in the same way.

Jet watched her until she disappeared into the crowd.

“I've been telling you so long for you to finally fuck her.”

“Suki? We’ve known each other all our lives, it would be weird.” The boy looked at him surprised, so he added hastily. “But all in all, she's got pretty good ass.”

He still felt strange talking about her in this way, although he had no problem using the same terms for other students. Suki was a wise girl, the only one, who he had a lot of respect for.

“Pretty good...” He confirmed, but saying this he devoted all his attention to Azula passing through the corridor, who reciprocated a long, defiating, tempting look.

Zuko didn't seem to see the sight he’s friend was throwing at his sister. Otherwise, the two would probably have landed in front of the director's oak desk, with black eyes, smashed lips and crumpled uniforms, just like the day they met. After a week in the detention, they never parted. Zuko didn't get along with his sister, but even he thought she deserved more respect than Jet was willing to give to any woman.

“See you after training?”

“After training.” He replied, staring at the phone. He finally decided to write back to the girls from yesterday.

They parted in two opposite directions. In the room for theoretical fire magic, Giya  was already waiting for him.

“What's up?” He asked, even though he didn't really care.

“In fact, nothing interesting has happened since Friday. And with you?” Finally, the part of the conversation that interested him. No one could blame him for loving to talk about himself. After all, it's not his fault that his life was much more interesting than the others.

“Funny that you ask..”

When Zuko left school, the last thing he wanted to do was listen to Mai. The girl stood next to the school fountain, with her arms crossed. He knew where it was going. She hasn't talked about anything else lately. He interrupted her mid-sentence, before she could get to the bottom of it. She was beginning to sound like their fathers years before.

“Mai, you know I'm not ready for a relationship.”

“You say that over and over again, and then you always come back for more.”

“Do you really have to make a scene here?”

“You broke my heart idiot. Twice.” She was more angry than sad. Certainly more interesting than her classic, impassive version.

“Young people fall in love with the wrong people sometimes," he replied expressionlessly.

On his cheek he felt a firey, burning pain. The head fell slightly to the left. He looked at the brunette in front of him. He clenched his jaw, quickly raised his eyebrows, in a defiant gesture as if he were saying ‘c’est la vie, baby’, and then put on a helmet in which the girl could see her own reflection. As he drove away, he didn’t turn around even for a second. He knew he was going to take detour home this time. He spent the afternoon with Aang and Jet, before being safely locked in his bedroom again. It was midnight.

‘Are you asleep?’ He wrote to three different girls. He put down the phone, with no intention of continuing any of these conversations, replying the next day as usual, unless the number of notifications irritated him enough to be tempted to a monosyllable in response. Maybe he could make Jess send him another nudes. He laid down on his back, crossing his legs at the ankles. He put his hands under his head. A mirror image looked at him from the ceiling. No scar on the left cheek.

Zuko woke up in sweat. Funny as memories turn into nightmares. In the mirror hanging on the ceiling, a terrified face stared at him again, with a faded burn mark.

"It's not me. It's not me," he mentally repeated like a mantra. "It's not me anymore." It is amazing how our own words and actions become so distant.

It only took a year under his uncle's care for Zuko to hate everything he was. At first, they couldn’t get along. Zuko didn’t understand his calmness. Iroh couldn’t control his nephew's anger. Not once, however, did it throw him off balance. He knew what the boy had to go through. Brunet locked himself in his new room as soon as he returned from endless visits to doctors, physiotherapists and psychologists. From the window on the twentieth floor one could see the entire city. However, he never revealed the curtains, always hiding in the darkness. He never took off the hood of his black sweatshirt. In the evenings, he’s uncle performed the traditional tea ceremony he had learned during one of his trips to China. The teenager knew that a porcelain cup was waiting for him every day in the living room. Despite this, he didn’t leave his shelter. Iroh  learned a new ceremony, the last element of which was pouring a cold drink into the sink. The man was able to suppress the feeling of helplessness and respect his space. He didn't speak to him for so long that Zuko almost forgot what his voice sounded like. It didn't bother him. He wanted to sink into his pain and anger. That was until another maid saw a bright, rectangular mark on the wall in the hallway, thought it was a accident, so she hung the object back. He’s uncle stood behind him as he raised his fist. He lifted it countless times, just as he couldn’t count the maids who had passed through the house since he had lived there.

“Your bad luck won't end in this life, or even the next one, if you break one more mirror," Zuko turned around. “I'm sure your hands would also like to take a break from the shards of glass.”

Zuko broke that mirror. That same evening, however, he left the room to quietly drink tea with his uncle.

“Eventually, you'll have to look at yourself," Iroh  said reflectively one day.

“I don't think so, uncle.”

“I’d like you to care about the appearance of your soul as much as you care about your outside appearance.”

“The appearance of my soul?! No one is looking at my soul, uncle!’ Zuko exploded once again. “When I was coming back from Dr. Chan, this little girl saw me on the street and started crying. The taxi driver didn’t stop looking into the rear-view mirror all the way. No one is looking at my soul, uncle," he repeated. “Even if they did, they wouldn't see much there.”

“We still have plenty of time to work on it.”

“I don't want to work on it! I want my old life back. I don't want the kids to cry at the sight of me. For the girls to turn around in disgust. I want to go back to my friends, but I don't want them to look at me any other way. I don't want people to keep asking me what happened, but I also don't want embarrassed people to pretend not to see it. As if they wanted to forcefully show that they don’t care, that this is normal. I don't want pity. What about respect? What about my pride? You don't know what it means to lose something.’

“The Chinese tea ceremony is called Gong Fu Cha. The coincidence of the name with the popular martial arts term, Kung Fu, is not accidental. Gong Fu, or Kung Fu, means a high level of skill in a given field.” Uncle took it calmly, pouring water between the vessels.

Zuko didn't understand what was going on. How could he just ignore him? Iroh  continued.

“The tea should be brewed in a teapot or gaiwan. It is also worth ensuring that the water is of good quality. The best will be spring, especially if you have collected it yourself. Then pour the tea leaves with water in a ratio of one to fifthy by weight. The temperature of the water depends on the species. Brew Pu Erhi or Oolongi with boiling water. For other species, it should be slightly less than boiling water. Only for high-quality green teas we use water at a temperature of eighty degrees. A higher one could spoil the leaves and give the tea a yellowish tinge. The first brew should be poured into the sniffing cup, which is a larger cup designed to control the aroma, and the rest should be poured out. Freshly brewed leaves emit a lot of caffeine, so only the second brewing on the same dry gives a satisfactory effect.”

During the ceremony, the old man didn’t stop talking.

“In China, inviting someone for tea, especially to a private tea house, is a sign of great respect and sympathy for that person. Huo invited me to her grandmother's tea house.”

The boy was surprised. He always thought his uncle named the tea house "Huo" because of the meaning of the word. Fire. This is the first time he has heard the name. Similarly, it was the first time he heard story of uncle's trip to China. Man seemed to be reading his mind.

“Her name supposedly meant fire, isn't that funny?” Iroh  smiled at his memories. “She was an amazing woman. Really fiery, although she was not a bender. She taught me the ceremony. No one performed such a prosaic and at the same time sacred activity with such grace.”

Iroh put a cup in front of his nephew.

“I was supposed to go on business trip. I never returned to a country, where duties and expectations awaited me. Your grandfather was outraged. He handed over the company to your father. I didn't regret anything.”

Zuko wondered why her uncle had never spoken about her. He lost the company because of her, but in what mean and unfortunate circumstances did they have to part ways, that his uncle was silent for so long?

“Huo  and our son, Lu Ten, died during the birth. It was ten years before you were born.”

The old man, unmoved, took a sip of tea, as if he had just told the tragedy unfolding on the boards of his own life. Zuko had never been so shaken. Between his fingers, he awkwardly grabbed the ear of an intricate cup. And although the boy still didn’t understand the mystical calmness of his uncle, he began to have an incredible amount of respect for this calmness.

Masterful tea brewing was not the only art Iroh  learned during his stay in China, although he always considered it the most useful and valuable skill.  Nothing, however, gave him more joy than when he finally found a way to spend more time with his nephew, whom he treated as his own child, while finding a healthy way to relieve the anger that had accumulated in him for years, and which had now reached its apogee.
Zuko started his training at dawn, running for an hour, after which he sat down with his uncle to breakfast. By twelve o'clock he had been taught by the best teachers, chosen by his uncle. At noon they drove to the Great Garden, where Iroh taught him firebending. Although Zuko didn’t find it in any textbook, his uncle claimed that the firebender is stronger at sunrise, noon and sunset. As an opposing element, he taught that the waterbender uses his power most strongly just after dusk, at midnight and just before dawn. The first two months they practiced the technique of breathing, because, as the uncle claimed, the power of the firebender is born from his breath, not from the strength of the muscles.

"The air is converted into energy in the body," he used to say in long lectures. "It is this energy that flows from your hands and becomes fire. We will not start physical training until you have mastered the art of correct breathing.”

"Uncle! This is stupidity. I'm no longer a child. We can go past through the basics. I want to know the Eastern style of fighting. It's a waste of time.” It seemed that somewhere deep down his original reaction to everything was a protest.

"It's your decision Zuko. I don't have to teach you if you don't want to.” Stoic calm didn't leave Iroh. It was as if he possessed some secret knowledge, strange wisdom and mysticism emaned within him.

Every night darkness fell in the boy's room. His face was illuminated by the faint light of four candles made of beeswax. They were placed in an even row on a glass, white rectangular stand, set in the middle of a low table, in front of which he was kneeling on a velvet pillow. When his uncle was brewing tea, Zuko was focusing on his breathing. Although these were complete basics, at first he had a big problem with it. The flame became too big, or went out. Irritated, he wiped his face, sighing loudly. But the following days passed, and his uncle refused to develop his training. Nothing motivated the boy like the desire to improve in the fight. He wondered if the outcome of his skirmish with Azula would have been different. If his uncle had taken him under his wing, teaching the ancient mysteries. So every night Zuko knelt on that unfortunate pillow and watched in concentration as the inhalation ignited all four candles and the exhalation extinguished the flame. Always correct, never perfect.

“You're approaching it the wrong way, boy..” Iroh  said one day, standing at the door of his room, instead of the usual way to go to get a tea set. “I brought you a friend who can help you.”

Zuko was surprised when a petite brunette entered the room. At first glance, it was clear that she was still very young. Her bangs escaped from under the green hairband, covering her eyes shrouded in milky fog.

“Uncle, you are a firebender yourself. You can teach me.”

“Oh no my dear nephew. Toph is not a firebender.”

“So what is her element? Breath is not an element.” He spoke of her as if she weren’t two steps away.

“Toph is a bender of spirit.” A smile danced on Iroh's lips.

“This is not an element either!” He shouted after his uncle closing the door.

Zuko had never known anyone blind before. With his outstretched hand, he waved gently in front of her face, paying attention not to create a gust of air. He knew these cheap tricks.

“You focus too much on looking with your eyes.”

“And what should I look with?” He snorted half sarcastically, half angrily.

The girl ignored him. He glared at her unfavorably.

"Why are you barefoot?"

"It helps me see better.”

“You are blind.”

“I may be sightless, but I'm certainly not blind.” The girl remained extremely calm. “Nice candles.”

“This is no proof. You probably know this from my uncle.” He impatiently moved his arm.

“Yes, your uncle told me they were standing on the table to my right. The middle one is half-burned out, and the one on the right is barely moved. Training ain’t going very well, does it?” Zuko took a loud breath, but before he could scold her, the girl spoke again. “Your uncle also told me that you had left a dirty T-shirt behind the corner chair. Please get rid of it before we start.”

“Smartass.” He muttered only half-heartedly. But he obediently threw the T-shirt into the laundry basket behind the glass doors of the dressing room.

That evening, he didn't expect to spend almost every evening with Toph. Nor did he expect that strange sting in his chest when his uncle told him that the girl had finished her rehabilitation and returned to her hometown.

Toph taught him the strange art of breathing and meditation. He has always been convinced that meditation is about not thinking about anything. It was an art, that in his opinion, was impossible. The brunette showed him a whole new way.

“Capture every thought that comes into your head. Grasp it and hold on to it," she said when they were both kneeling on velvet pillows one evening.

“I thought we were going to meditate.” He opened one eye, looking at the girl in an angle.

“We will. Now close that eye and focus.”

At that moment, he completely opened his eyes, looking at her with consternation. Well, he was slowly beginning to get the impression that Toph's magic was not the earth, but indeed the spirit.

“As I said, before I was brutally interrupted...”

“Toph...” He muttered low and drawn, his eyelids still closed. He knew that instead of her name, she heard ‘Don't push.’

“Capture every thought. Think about every situation, every feeling. Until you can't think of anything more about it. And then catch another one. Remember to breathe. Breathe to the rhythm of your thoughts.”

By practicing his breath, he unconsciously cleared his mind. At first, it took him hours. Over time, as he sorted out the things of the past, meditation seemed as simple as breathing. Which now worked out much better for him. Four evenly lit candles spoke for themselves. What the boy didn’t notice was the fact, that he was much less aggressive and impetuous. During training with his uncle, he was no longer so easily provoked, patiently waiting for the right moment.

“You've become calmer, don't you think Zuko?”

“It must be the tea, uncle." he replied thoughtfully.

”Probably... Funny that you mentioned tea, boy.”

Zuko put the clay vessel away with trembling hands. He wanted his uncle to be proud of him. He knew that the mystery required years of practice, but for the first independent ceremony he thought that he had done quite decently.

"Bravo, boy" Iroh  put the cup to his mouth, and immediately spat out the drink, causing it to spray into a thick cloud. He choked for a while, although according to Zuko it was more of a theatrical manner. "For God's sake, I've never met anyone, who brew tea so badly in my entire life.”

But because of that faint smile, Zuko knew his uncle was proud of him anyway. For the first time in almost a year, the boy didn’t want to return home. When he saw two suitcases in the hallway, however, it turned out that he wasn’t returning alone.

The brunet sat upright, panting heavily, still unable to shake off his sleep. He grabbed a glass standing on the bedside table. He realized that he wouldn’t calm down so easily. It was a Sunday afternoon. He knew what to do, but he had no choice, he had to wait until the evening. He went down to the garage, where his motorcycle was hiding under a layer of dust. He hasn't ridden in over a year. However, he was convinced that it was the right moment. In silence, the roar of the engine resounded.

***

In a dark room, the boards seemed to creak a thousand times louder. The boy took measured steps, not wanting to wake his father. God, has that door always crackled like that? He couldn't remember. The brunet went on his toes to the bed and gently shook his sister. He didn't want to scare her, but at the same time he wanted to wake her up as quickly as possible.

“Sokka...?” She asked, still unconscious, looking over her shoulder.

“Be quiet Katara, or you’ll wake up dad.”

“Something’s happened?”

“No. Get dressed. I want to show you something.” He stood, staring at her expectingly.

The girl knew her brother too well and too long. She knew he wouldn't let go. However stupid idea he came up with this time. She got up, heading for the closet. The room was lit up only by the moonlight. She quickly pulled out a pastel blue tracksuit.

“What do you want to show me?” She asked. while squeezing her ankles through the elastic welts.

“You'll know when we're there," she rolled her eyes at his comment.

She threw a blue windbreaker over her white top and walked over to the dressing table, clumsily slipping on her black sneakers along the way. She almost fell while jumping.

“Are you really going to do your make-up now” If there was such a thing as screaming in a whisper, Sokka was a master.

“Do you see those circles? Either you won't wake me up in the middle of the night, or the concealer. Otherwise I'm not coming," she crossed her arms, like an offended five-year-old.

The boy sighed martyrdomly as a sign of consent. He was surprised when, together with a cursory mascara, it didn’t take her even a minute. She combed her hair carelessly. On her way to the bathroom, she tied the front strands at the back of her head in her usual hairstyle.

“Katara I beg you... Do you want to wake up father?” The boy was still whining in a whisper.

“Are you telling me you didn't brush your teeth?” She scooped up her mouthwash, then leaned over the sink.

“No. Forgive me. It wasn't on my ‘before I sneak out of the house’ list.”

“Sokka, brother... You're disgusting.” She put fluid under his nose. “Bottoms up.”

The boy didn’t argue with his sister. He knew they’d leave sooner , if he just listened to her. And indeed, less than ten minutes after he woke up Katara, a quiet click on the back door could be heard. Aang was already waiting for them in front of the house, classically with a yellow baseball cap hidden under a gray hood. Without a word, they walked down the street. The thud of their footsteps echoed as they moved further and further from the center.

“Where are we going?” The girl finally asked, as they were lighting the overgrown path with flashlights on their phones. She liked it less and less.

“Hush, Katara.” Sokka hissed barely audibly.

“It's the middle of the night. We won't get up for school," Aang held a protruding branch in front of her.

“Suki told me about it,” he said as if it explained everything. “She said she would be waiting around the corner.”

And indeed, when they came out of the small grove, in front of a twisted net, fastened with a rusty chain, there was a brown haired girl with a red shadow over her eyes. As soon as she saw them, she put her phone in her pocket, walking towards them.

“How much can one wait? It has for sure already started.”

“Blame Katara, not me.” Brunet replied, raising his hands in a defensive gesture.

“Sokka…” She said warningly.

“Never mind, let's go now, or seriously we will miss everything.”

“Ladies first.” The boy said to his sister, turning towards the fence with a gallant gesture.

“You’re such a gentleman Sokka, aren’t you.” Katara began to climb a high net. Her brother followed in her footsteps.

When they jumped onto the dried grass on the other side, they were surprised to realize that Suki and Aang were still standing on the wrong side of the fence. In addition, they both looked at them in amusement. After a while, they walked about three or four meters and folded back the bent mesh, entering through a hole that had been cut into it. The rusty banks suggested it had been there for many winters.

“We have been coming here for years. You didn't think we'd keep jumping over the fence, did you?”

“Sokka, you’re an idiot.” Katara struck her forehead with an open hand.

“And you supposed to be better?” He replied reproachfully.

“Okay, come on. Let's just go.” Suki stood between them, grabbed them by the elbows and pulled deeper towards the property.

In front of them loomed a low, one-story building, with broken glass and some windows boarded up. Two colossal, rusty headlights towered behind it. After a walk in the dark, they seemed to illuminate half the city. How come they hadn't noticed them before? Suki was leading the way all the time. Neither of them said a single word. They watched with amazement mixed with fascination. They had lived in Mythbrook for over a year and had no idea that there was once a city swimming pool here. At first glance, it was clear that it had been unused for years. Clumps of weeds protruded between the concrete slabs and broken tiles. As they stood next to the dingy complex, their eyes had time to get used to the harsh, artificial light. In front of them stretched a long, empty pool, in the shape of a rounded hourglass. All the walls were marked with graffiti, more or less ingenious. For the most part, however, they lacked artistry. Katara had no idea how they gotten there, but in one corner laid orange and white traffic poles. On the edges of the pool and crumbling couches sat probably almost every kid from the city. There were also a few older people. Some had skateboards with them. They didn’t notice the newcomers at all. They were all focused on two teenagers standing in the depths of the pool.

“They’re announcing cooling, from tomorrow on. The kids wanted to come to the last summer fight this year”, Suki said it in such a natural voice as if she were talking about tomorrow's dinner. She didn't look at them, coming closer to the edge.

“Fight? Are you serious?!” Katara almost screamed.

“And you told me just now?! You know I'd kick their asses," Sokka replied indignantly at the same moment.

The sister looked at him with reproach.

“It’s Toph! I'll go say hi.” Aang said quickly, taking his first steps towards her. He wasn't going to stay between them any longer. He always had that strange feeling when he witnessed family quarrels.

Katara, despite her indignation, was unable to suppress her intrigue, which turned out to be much more pressing. Finally, she sat down next to Suki and her brother. She folded her legs, waiting.

“Aang doesn't fight?” Sokka asked, glancing at him.

“He’s an airbender.” Behind their backs they heard a soft voice. After a while, Yue sat on the right side of Katara.

“Right, they’re peaceful," Katara nodded.

“This as well. Once during a fight, he pulled all the air out of Zuko's lungs and couldn't stop it. He hasn't fought ever since.” Suki had this overwhelming gift of talking about the strangest and slightly scary things, as if she were ordering a latte macchiato. Cane sugar. Two spoons.

Katara looked at Aang smiling at the girl next to him. She never thought he’d be able to hurt anyone. And certainly not friends. There was a severe tension in the air.

“Zuko has some bad luck, hasn’t he?” Sokka, as usual, said something to clear the air. A gentle laugh was preceded by a loud sigh of relief.

“Or he doesn't fight very well, since everyone gives him a beating,” Katara added, now completely relaxed.

As if on cue, the boy walked by. There was no way he couldn't have heard the girl's comment. He was dressed in black pants and a red jacket with patches on it. He was looking directly at her. Though the expression remained neutral, there was a that funny spark dancing in his eyes. He passed them along with the two guys, not slowing down for a moment. They sat down with the rest of their friends on one of the couches in a disgusting purple shade, but from her place Katara couldn’t see them.

“Zuko’s been coming here all the time since he came back, but he hasn't fought once.” Suki answered the question before it could bed asked. She didn't look away from the fight. “The last time he fought, he fought with his sister. Everyone remembers how it ended.”

“Yea, Azula made it hot for him. Literally.”

“Sokka!” Hearing her scream, the people sitting next to her turned towards them. A keen look also went there, but he couldn’t see them.

“Well, what? It was hilarious. You have to admit it was.”

“And you? You Fight?” Katara turned to a friend.

“I used to love fighting with Ty Lee and Mai. Nobody could match us, so we only fought each other, sometimes three of us at once. We may not have elements at our side, but our fights were just as spectacular. Me with a fan, Mai with knives, Ty Lee flexing her body like no one else...”

She was interrupted by the loud sound of an extremely strong punch. The taller of the two fighting boys was laying on the ground.

"They fight really well," Sokka said appreciatively. At the same time he nodded, as if in agreement with himself.

“Average, at best.” Yue denied.

“It's Mythbrook. What did you expect? They didn't even open a tech class last year. Either you're a bender or you fight," Suki added.

Immersed in conversation, they didn’t notice when the three teenagers walked towards them from the opposite end of the square. When Zuko saw his sister, he rose from his seat, previously poking his friend in the arm. A cunning smile appeared on Jet's face. They stayed away, unnoticed, but close enough that they wouldn’t miss a word, not even the most muted.

“Well, you must have got entangled here as well. Suki, I must admit, that you’re getting soft. You’re hanging out with rabble, and this place, as one can see, means nothing to you anymore.” She turned to Katara again. “But since you're already here... How about a little rematch?”

Katara rose up, standing in front of her. Sokka wanted to join his sister, but Suki grabbed him by the forearm, holding him in place. Focused, she watched the situation, without letting go of the boy.

“What do you mean? You’ve started it.” Katara turned to the brunette.

“Oh, no. I'll finish it.”

“Azula...”

“Don’t interfere Suki.” The air was cut by a sharp tone.

A few people around them started looking at them. Zuko unconsciously took a step forward.

“I'm not going to fight you.”

“Are you chickening out?”

‘I'm not afraid,” she replied defiantly, clenching her fists.

“How about fighting me then, enchantress?” Zuko stood behind his sister, only to pass her after a while. “You know. Since everyone's giving me a beat.”

His voice was calm, relaxed, with a lazy, offensive smile on his lips. He had no idea why he did it. He hasn't fought since that fateful day. But he was standing there, his hands in his pockets, leaning towards her and waiting for her step.

“What the hell is he doing?” Sokka hissed half-mouth.

“He’s doing her a favor. Azula would tear her apart. She never plays fair. Even with her own brother. For Zuko, however, nothing is more important than honor.”

Brunet began to get nervous about her lack of reaction and the growing crowd of onlookers. If she refuses, he’ll definitely come across as an idiot. The brown-haired girl watched him a little too long, thinking intensely. Finally, without a word, she unzipped her windbreaker and handed it to Yue. With her hands, she grabbed the jagged edge of the pool and then lowered herself down. Zuko breathed almost imperceptibly. Like Katara, he took off his jacket and handed it to a friend, remaining in a black T-shirt. He jumped down after her. They lined up facing each other, at a distance. The spotlight blinded the girl for a moment. She raised her hand, shading her eyes. In front of her was only the shadow of the boy's silhouette. It took a few seconds to adjust her eyesight. There were pebbles and single leaves at the bottom. On the left was a fairly large puddle of cloudy water. Probably it was there for the use of waterbenders. She shifted her gaze to him again. Zuko waited patiently for her to ripple the water, like any waterbender, but Katara watched him closely, waiting, prepared for a different style of fighting. She never fought anyone but her brother. They went on like this for a long time. Whistles and humming sounded all around. People began to be bored. She raised her hands and was approaching him almost imperceptibly. This put him off his stroke. Her slow steps didn’t escape his attention, as did all the rest. He frowned. Benders usually fought at a distance, using power. He had no idea what she was doing. He lowered his hands. In one second, the girl was next to him, delivering one smooth blow. A harmonious "woo" rolled over the square. Zuko spat blood.

“She has it after me! After me, dear!” Sokka screamed outrageously.

Zuko touched his slit lip, looking at the girl, surprised and intrigued. Maybe even with some admiration. However, he didn’t have time to think, because after a momentary shock, Katara attacked again. She still didn’t use the power. She kicked, aiming at his face again. Millimeters from his cheek, he grabbed her ankle. The girl stood in an almost perfect vertical position to reach his face with her foot, with all her muscles tense, but she didn’t stagger even though he was still holding her. He raised one eyebrow and the corner of his mouth. The other hand went up. At the same time, he took a deep breath. The girl realized, a second too late, what he was going to do. She wrenched her leg from his grip, falling on the hard concrete, rubbing her hands against tiny pebbles, but the fire followed her. With a quick movement, she drew the water from the puddle, extinguishing the edge of her T-shirt. In some places, the flame burned holes, but didn’t reach her skin.

“Not after me, definitely not after me.” Behind her back she heard her brother's voice.

She was laying there, looking at him from below. It was something new. She never fought using magic. Sokka never used it. He wasn’t a bender. She didn't know what to expect. Even if she hadn't thought about it before, now she wasn't going to give up magic. He jumped, punching with fist of fire, hitting the place where her head had been seconds earlier. Still laying down, she rolled over to the side. She sent water towards him, cutting the skin on his shoulder. They got up at the same moment, now much apart from each other. With his hands, he alternately made quick hits, sending small flames towards her. Big enough to distract it. Small and cool enough not to hurt her. Katara in a few skilled movements formed two water tentacles, which were an extension of her hands. The boy in a twin gesture formed two whips of fire. For a long time they fought in this way, but apart from a puff of steam, they didn’t achive much. Eventually, Katara exposed herself for a moment to make a more complicated move. On her shoulder she felt the burning lick of the fire, but she didn’t stop. The water slowly wrapped around the boy's shoulders, immobilizing them. The fire was gone. She could hardly hold him. Zuko made a sweeping kick, and the fire that followed him cut through the water holding him. Slowly he began to get irritated. She resisted far too long. He took one long, calm breath, forming a large fireball in front of him, and then sent it towards the girl. Katara formed a wall of water in front of her, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. Confused, she opened it when she didn’t feel the force of the impact. The orb passed her, hitting the puddle behind her, from which not even a drop remained. More fireballs made the wall separating her from the boy turned into a steam. On the horizon began to dawn. Katara breathed deeply. She closed her eyelids, concentrating, and lifted her hands above her head. Slowly, she began to roll her wrists, painting intricate symbols in the air. Zuko watched her movements, as alluring, and charming as on the night of his party. Hypnotized, he stared at her for a moment, as if forgetting about the attack. The air around began to vibrate.

“It's from my father's scroll. We tried to do it all summer, but it didn't work out once," Yue said in amazement.

Katara began to weave water from the air. Trickles as delicate as spider threads. Zuko had never seen anything like it. The water began to surround her calm face. Suddenly, she opened her eyes. You could see the perkiness in them. She stretched out her fingers in front of her, causing the wave to hit the stunned boy. Katara locked him in a ball of water, causing Zuko to drown.

“And this is a show.” Suki commented satisfied.

When the first gentle rays of the sunlight fell on her, Katara was sure that she had won this fight. The boy heard his uncle's voice in his head. "Basics Zuko. Brake her roots." He huddled as much as the resistance of the water allowed him. He went on like this for a moment, trying to sense the right moment. He had only one shot. He opened his mouth, but instead of air, only water got there. At the same moment, he rose sharply. Beams of fire shot out of his feet, fingertips, and mouth, tearing the shell around him. He inhaled furiously, then his breathing became shallow, interrupted. He couldn't control it enough not to hurt her. Again, they were at their fingertips.

“You rise with the moon. I rise with the sun," he said almost in inaudibly.

Katara didn’t try this trick again. She didn't think she’d succeed again. Even if she wasn't exhausted, she didn't have time to do it. She spent every spare second blocking the boy's blows. Thanks to training with her brother, she knew how to fight a much larger opponent. However, she realized that in the long run, she wouldn’t stand a chance against him. For him, it was more like fun. Game. His movements were unforced. The expression on his face sure again. He started to get pumped up.

“You move like you don’t care, smooth as...” He started between another punch and a kick.

“Silk, cool as air. Yes I know. Try to be more original.” He looked at her in bewilderment, but didn’t let himself be knocked out of rhythm.

He crouched, stretching out his leg and cut the legs from under hert. She collapsed onto her back with a thud. She grunted quietly. She didn’t have time to shake off, because after a while the boy was already sitting on her. He held her hands with his knees, pressed his forearm to her neck.

"Not bad for the first time, enchantress," he whispered in her ear.

Katara jerked her hands. Unsuccessfully. It just made his smile a little more mocking. She tensed her abdominal muscles, then lifted her legs, wrapping them around his shoulders. She pushed with all her strength, so that now he was laying on his back. She took the position he had been in a moment earlier. She could feel her nails digging into the skin of his wrists.

"I am a bender, ignorant," she hissed.

He tilted his head, this weird spark in his eyes again, then quickly curled his hands, with long fingers grabbing her wrists. He turned her sideways, this time laying on her with his whole body. He didn’t let go of her wrists, he held her legs with his thighs. Katara jerked her whole body, once, second and third. At one point, she even growled wildly, but she knew she had lost. She put her head on the concrete, calmed down, looking at the sky. Her heart was beating at a frantic pace. Zuko was still lsying on her, completely distrusting her, but he also began to normalize his breathing. He rested his forehead on the ground, just above her shoulder. Wet strands of hair covered his face. In an instant, Katara felt his sweat, warmth and the remnants of perfume. It smelled expensive.

"Get a room!" "Sokka and Azula shouted at the same moment. They looked at each other in disgust, as if they couldn't believe they had thought the same thing.

This made them both recover. Brunet rose in one neat motion and then extended his hand to her. She looked at it angrily, and reluctantly accepted it. Zuko was dripping water, and only after a while did she realize that he had left wet marks on her clothes. Satisfied, she realized that her favorite tracksuits came out of this skirmish unscathed. But she couldn't say the same about the pitted, blackened top. They both headed towards the edge of the pool, feeling the teens' burning gazes on them. Zuko jumped up to grab the edge and pulled himself up nimbly. The girl pulled her hands towards Sokka  and Suki, who pulled her out of pool. She sat down, cross-legged again, but not quite. Yue handed her a bottle of water, from which she began to drink greedily. Her friends said something to her, but she couldn't catch a word. It sounded like congratulations. She didn't care that she had to look exhausted. She wasn't going to be graceful and pretend that she wasn't affected by this fight. She felt as if she was going to die in a second. Zuko was sitting nearby, bandaging his knuckles, which he smashed against the bottom of the pool. Jet leaned over him, still holding his jacket. Katara bit her lip for a moment, playing with it and thinking about something intensively. Finally, without a word, she stood up and headed towards him. He caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye and quickly said goodbye to his friend, who looked at him with a communicative look, as if saying ‘I understand everything, man’. After a moment, Jet was heading towards the exit, his hand thrown over  Azula’s shoulder. Katara crouched, leaning on one knee.

"May I?" She asked briefly, her chin pointing to a cut on his arm, that she had made several minutes earlier, and from which blood was still oozing.

He nodded. She opened the bottle from which she had been drinking moments earlier and gently directed the water to the wound. Soon there was no trace of it. Even the most faded scar.

"Thank you," he said softly.

"Well... I'll better get going now," she replied, embarrassed, putting an unruly strand of hair behind her ear.

She got up to get back to her friends, but stopped in mid-step, seeing her brother leaning against a crumbling building, with Suki sitting on his lap, kissing as if there was no tomorrow. There was no sign  of Yue. She made a mental high five with Sokka and turned to go home with Aang. She wasn't even sure if she’d be able to find her way back by herself. However, the boy was still talking to the brunette. In addition, Zuko was walking towards him. Torn, she looked at the couple again. She didn't want to disturb them, especially given the pathetic stalking her brother had been doing for a year, but she was hoping for a few broken hours of sleep before tomorrow's classes.

“So you're completely sure you're not interested in her?” Zuko got straight to the point.

“Absolutely,” Aang replied with a smile.

“Great. Give me her number.”

“For what?”

“Is it important?” He asked as if casually.

“Funny, you were picking on me that...” In the air he made quotation marks. “I'm ashamed to introduce you to a girl, and now you fudge out of it, when for the first time in my life I see you want a girl’s number, not the other way around.”

“So the water bender electrocuted you, after all?” Toph snorted with laughter.

“You guys are worth each other.”

Katara reluctantly took the first step when she heard a low voice behind her back.

“Need an escort?” Zuko stood with his hands hidden in his jacket pocket.

“In fact, very much so.” She could not believe that she was saying this.

“Ladies first.”

“Oh, you’re such gentleman Zuko,” she said mockingly, not realizing that this was the first time she had addressed him by name.

He tilted his head, looking at her in this strange way, then stretched out his hand to indicate she should go ahead. In the silence of the morning, their footsteps echoed hollowly as they walked under the sprawling branches of sycamores. They didn't talk. The adrenaline level dropped, making both of them drowsy. Only now have they felt pain after the recent hits. Less than fifteen minutes later, they were standing next to the path leading to her front door. They faced each other, and awkwardness flowed upon them like a thick molasses.

“That’s me.” She said, pointing to a building that was practically no different from every other in the area.

“So I'm guessing we're seeing each other at school? Or are you going to sleep off?”

“Oh no. In my whole life, I haven’t missed a single day of school.”

“I don't doubt it.”

“To be honest, I've only been going to school for a year, but still...” He snorted at it with a quiet laugh. “Thank you for escorting me away.”

“No problem. We didn't want to spoil Suki's big day, did we?”

“Suki's big day…?” She asked not understanding.

“Your brother is the first boy I've ever seen her with. And I've known her all my life.”

“Really?” Surprised, she frowned. She didn't consider her brother to be so special.

“Good night Katara.” He said instead. This was the first time she'd heard her name sound so velvety.

“Good night…”

She turned, walking towards the back door. He stood in front of the house until he made sure she was inside. When the curtains on the second-story window closed, he moved along the sidewalk. Katara tossed her clothes in the corner of the room and went to the bathroom to take a quick shower. Her skin was sticky with sweat. She grabbed her head when she realized that the boy must have smelled that stench all the way. Zuko even sweaty smelled... differently. Good.

Ten minutes later, she slipped into the bed, which had already gotten cold during her absence. She turned to the side when she heard the characteristic sound of a text message from the bedside table. She reached for her phone but didn't recognize the number.

"Your skin smells like the last days of summer."

She was well aware of who sent the message. She locked the phone without replying. She was unable to come up with anything smart enough and unforced anyway. She fell asleep with a faint smile on her lips, feeling a thrill of excitement before another day at school.

Chapter Text

It was a chilly November morning, when Katara stepped through the metal, creaking gate of Mythbrook School. Dry leaves, which had long since fallen from the ancient oak, creaked unpleasantly with each of her steps. For the past fifteen minutes, gentle snow had been falling incessantly. The snowflakes swirled in the air, chased by gusty winds. However, it wasn’t the magical kind, that heralded Christmas, but the one that made everything wet, gloomy and slimy. And the next day it was gone. During the short way to school, the girl got to freeze completely and her hair got soaked. She pushed open a heavy mahogany door with lion-shaped knockers. There was no living soul in the hallway. Her footsteps echoed off the stone walls and benches, as she briskly made her way toward the biology classroom. Around the corner, however, she stopped abruptly, seeing Mrs. Jennings standing at the door.

"Headmaster Gyatso wants to see you in his office," the secretary said matter-of-factly, then walked towards the stairs herself.

She was ten minutes late, but that was no reason to get called on the carpet right away. She didn't know what it was about. Nevertheless, she obediently followed the older woman. All the misdeeds she had committed in the past two months had flashed through her head. Apart from flooding the corridor on the ground floor, she didn’t do anything terrible. Besides, she was only putting out the fire, that Sokka had started, and there wasn’t even a hint of proof that it was her.

The woman sat down at her desk, perpendicular to the door and gestured, to let her know she could come in. She pushed the door slightly, immediately being even more confused. Next to the entrance, Zuko was leaning nonchalantly against the wall.

"Hello, enchantress," he said amused, as she closed the door behind her.

"Hi, ignorant," she muttered so that only he could hear her.

The office was elegant and presentable. The walls and ceiling were covered with wooden panels of a vivid shade. To the right of the muntins window stood a massive desk, made of east indian rosewood. It seemed to Katara, that it was even larger, than the one in the Oval Office. All the papers and items were neatly arranged on it. A man with a white mustache was sitting on an expensive chair. The wall behind him was occupied by a display case in a shade similar to a desk. Behind the glass door was a row of trophies and prizes. If it weren't for the laptop on his desk, she would have thought that in some absurd, surreal way she had went back to the beginning of the twentieth century. She was surprised to see that the two leather, quilted armchairs in front of the desk were occupied by Toph and Aang. Sokka was standing behind the boy's brown seat. She didn’t have time to take a good look, because a second after her, Suki ran into the office.

"Sorry for being late," she gasped as she walked over to the other chair.

Katara remained against the wall, on the left side of the door. She hadn’t the slightest idea, why the headmaster had brought them together. She wondered what they all could have done. When Suki joined, Gyatso smiled warmly and laced his long, skinny fingers together.

"As you probably know, the annual Coji tournament takes place in May. Together with the body of teachers, we decided that no one would be able to represent our school better than you."

The girl had heard about the Coji tournament for the first time, but it must have been prestigious, maybe even legendary, given the excitement caused by the mere mention of it. The headmaster's smile was even bigger as he realized it had caused the effect he had intended.

Suki looked like Christmas had come earlier. She couldn't see Toph's face, but she smiled smugly. Even Zuko, who pretended to be bored, straightened up, staring at the man.

"I hope that the six of you will take the matter seriously, and prepare yourself properly. Until then, your school commitments will be limited to the bare minimum. You can go back to class."

Everyone began to head towards the door, but their thoughts were in a completely different place.

"Katara, stay for a moment longer," the girl heard the headmaster’s calm voice behind her back.

She turned around and patiently waited for him to start. The man spoke as soon as the door closed with a silent click.

"Your teachers and I, we decided that you were the best choice. There are many benders in school, who have more advanced knowledge than you do, but you have unprecedented potential. We would like to help you reach it fully. That's why we decided that you will take additional bending classes. Without them, you won't even be half ready.

"What if I can't get better? Or I don't want to waste all my free time on it?”

"We both know how ambitious you are," Gyatso said it as if he knew the girl didn't really consider it at all.

"You’re putting me under incredible pressure. You yourself mentioned. There are better benders at school than me.”

"That's why you'll be taking extra classes for the next six months. Let the unseen days be, Katara. Today is more than enough.”*

The girl understood that the conversation was over. She nodded to the man in front of her, then left the room. Behind the door, Suki and her brother were waiting for her.

"What is a Coji tournament?" Katara asked right away.

“The school chooses one earthbender, one waterbender, one firebender, and one airbender to represent the school. In addition to this one male and one female warrior,” Suki didn’t stop talking as they headed for the stairs.

"Who is organizing this tournament?" Sokka interjected.

"What do you mean who? Summerfield High, of course.”

If you were born in Arizona, you couldn't help but hear of Summerfield High. In fact, if you were born on the West Coast, you had no other option. In the first eighteen years of your life, it will be your blessing or your curse. You will dream of getting there, you will fight to be the best. Because in the building surrounded by the forests there is no place for the weak.

Gainesville, apart from the lake painted with the brush of God Himself, doesn’t have much to offer. Therefore, it is not surprising, that the main and greatest pride of the town is the prestigious school for gifted. A 3.0 average is a pass to all high schools in the state. Better or worse, of course, but it’s not for us to judge. The exception is the aforementioned high school, which years ago reserved the right to select students, creating an elite unit. Everyone in Summerfield, apart from excellent grades, had unique abilities that could be described as a gift. Sport, art, science. Choose any field. Within the walls of the school, among the students you will find at least one expert.

The neighborhood had a population of 33 804, or so the dirty inscription on the sign welcoming the newcomers, damaged by the alternating rainfall and glaring sunbeams, said. In my opinion, it hasn’t been updated in years. If you come from a small town like me, the number seems dizzying, but if you go to Phoenix, a little over an hour away, where the population is almost one and a half million people, you’ll understand that it is quite a small town. Maybe not to the extent of ‘I know you all" Fairview from Desperate Housewives, but it was nothing near New York.

When, in 1983, Frank Summerfield opened his ‘school of the future’, as he liked to call it, and was not mistaken at all, he couldn’t have imagined that it would be a catalyst for changes that would cause the number of inhabitants to double. The school, Modern for those times, was established on the outskirts, which now could be called the center. Since then, it has been constantly improved, and has remained one of the most developed institutions in this part of the country. Although the golden, glorious motto ‘Tradition Of Pride’ fluttered from the banner, the architecture was far from tradition.

About ten thousand glazed square meters were equipped with the most modern studios, a gym capable of accommodating five thousand spectators, and an auditorium, where the entire school orchestra could easily play. The second as much space was taken by football and rugby fields.

The first class had only twenty-three students, who studied almost individually. Back then, seventy percent of the students were boys who represented one talent - football. The other seven girls were writers. Despite such a narrow circle, the school could not be denied effectiveness. Already in the first year, the team won the state championship. Today, the school has one thousand eight hundred and forty-six students from all over the country, occupying ten dormitories adjacent to the campus. Although football is still the pride of the school, over the last thirty years specializations have expanded to include, among others, a chess club, a basketball team, a theater club, a soccer team, a band, photo or math circle. Every year, the school was left by a year of unrivaled adepts, in the future supplying law firms, music labels, sports teams or scientific laboratories.

So the benders, who ruled the four elements, present in the school didn’t cause much agitation. They faded among more prominent individuals, and strong personalities. However, as befits a Summerfield High, they were endowed with a talent that most benders could dream of.

"Every year we go there for a tournament, and every year we lose. You have no idea how unbearable it is.”

"Well, this year will be different. They chose you and Sokka... There are no better warriors in the whole city," she said encouragingly, before she smiled slyly. "And above all, they chose me.”

"I don't know, given the circumstances... Will you be able to tame your power?" Suki replied snidely, grabbing Sokka's hand.

Katara knew exactly what her friend was talking about. She recalled the day, not long after the fight at old pool.

She stood in front of the sink, washing dishes. As usual, she used magic to keep her hands from getting wet. She stared at the view outside the window. Raindrops steadily tapped against the window. The cloudy sky was cut by lightning. For a long time she had been talking with Suki, who was sitting on the kitchen island. There was silence for a moment. The girl decided to seize the opportunity.

"So... You and Sokka?" Katara asked casually, without turning her head. However, every muscle in her body was tense in nervous anticipation.

"So... You and Zuko?" Suki wasn't to be deceived so easily.

She said it with such an effortless manner, as if she knew perfectly well that this question would be asked, and was completely prepared for it. She was even amused. She wasn't going to capitulate so quickly.

The water in the sink swirled and shot out in a stream, soaking Katara and the entire tabletop. Suki broke into a fit of laughter.

"What about me and Zuko?" She wanted it to sound natural, but it came out more angrily, as she reached for kitchen cloth and started wiping down her T-shirt.

"Don't play dumb," Suki replied with a laugh. "Not after what you’ve just done.”

"You kissed my brother!" If Katara was sure of anything, it was that the best defense is attack.

"You went home with him.”

"Because I wouldn't have been able to do it without you!" Katara realized that she had raised her voice. She took a deep breath before adding. "It doesn't matter. I have hardly seen him since.”

"He didn’t reach out? Sounds like Zuko.”

"He wrote a few text messages...” Katara paused for a second, as if it suddenly dawned on her. “Where did he even get my number from?”

Suki nodded toward the window, where Aang's living room loomed behind the linden tree.

"What a...”

"And what did you write back to him?" Suki urged her, clearly interested.

"Nothing.”

"What do you mean by nothing?" She asked confused.

"Just what I said. Nothing. I wanted to write something back. I sat on my bed for hours, staring at my phone. But I could never come up with anything witty and original enough. So in the end, I didn't reply. And then it was too late to write, for it not to look strange.”

"Oh my God...”

"What?"

"You wanna flirt with him!"

"I do not!" Katara was outraged.

‘Witty and original?”

"I'm sorry for trying to come across more interesting, than I really am. It's not a crime yet!’

"Of course not," Suki wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"As I said…” the girl tried hard to pretend she couldn't see it. "It doesn't matter, because after another unanswered message, he gave up.”

It suddenly dawned on Katara that the conversation had taken a completely different course than she had planned. It was she who was interrogated.

"Suki!”

"Who gave up?" Sokka entered the room, and scooped an apple from a bowl on the counter.

"No one.”

Suki looked at her again with this characteristic look. Half amused, half feisty. As if she were saying "come on", "I wonder what Sokka have to say about this" and "too late, gotcha" at the same time. She hadn’t thought, that a second later Sokka would come to the edge of the countertop and kiss her quickly, before he walked out the kitchen door to meet Aang.

Now it was Katara who smiled defiantly.

***

As every Thursday, after classes Katara and Yue went to the Huo tea house. They sat down at the same table as always, throwing all the textbooks at it right away.

"I'll go order tea for us," the white-haired girl said, taking her wallet out of her bag.

"Then I'll try to find something about these Dai Li for civics," she replied as she flipped through the book.

Yue returned a second later. She grabbed the notebook, and began to underline something in it. After the second paragraph, the waiter walked over to their table with drinks and two croissants. He muttered a quick "enjoy" and immediately walked away. At once, Katara raised her head, ignoring him before.

"Zuko works here?" She asked, watching the boy behind the counter, until he disappeared through the kitchen door.

"Mhm," it wasn't surprising to Yue.

"I thought he’s rich as hell."

"He helps his uncle, who owns it. I’ve heard they are very close," she paused to bite the chocolate croissant. "I envy you. Well, except that you have to fight. Seniors always go on a trip to Summerfield with contestants. There are legends about these trips.”

"Nothing can be done?"

"I have to wait another year," the girl shook her head. Still eating, she picked up the pink highlighter again.

Katara suddenly came up with an idea.

"Wait a moment," she said, taking a camel coat from the backrest. "I'll be right back."

"Sure. Maybe I can find something about these Dai Li. It's amazing that for such an important organization, there are so few sources left after them," Yue didn't even look up from the textbook.

Katara stepped onto the sidewalk in front of the premises. She hoped she was right. She walked around the west wall of the building. She wasn’t wrong, after all.

The boy was leaning against the wall, holding a cigarette in one hand, and a phone in the other. When he noticed her, he locked the screen of the device, and put it in his back pocket. He took a drag, waited for the girl to approach him.

"Hello, enchantress."

"Teach me to fight,” she didn’t waste time on greetings. She had to tilt her head up to look at him.

"What?" He didn't really know what she was talking about.

"Teach me to fight," she repeated even more slowly and clearly.

"You're doing pretty well," he replied casually, as if offhandedly, while putting his cigarette out, against a brick building.

"Teach me to fight," it sounded more desperate this time.

He wanted to say that he was not a waterbender, but he knew she didn’t mean bending. He knew perfectly well, what she meant by that. As if she were saying: I lost to you. I'm not going to do that anymore. Teach me everything you know, so I can use it against you. So I can win the tournament.

"What about Sokka?"

"Sokka can't teach me anything more. He understands that."

"On Tuesdays and Thursdays I help here," he said in such a tone that it was obvious that the matter was a foregone conclusion.

"From Monday to Wednesday I have extra classes."

"Saturday?" He proposed.

"I practice with Yue on weekends."

"Why didn't you say Friday right away?"

"To make you feel like you negotiated it, and that was your idea," she smiled radiantly and winked at him. As she walked away, she added. "See you tomorrow."

"I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you waiting," she said, sitting down on a stool next to Yue.

"It’s okay. I found an interesting part. Listen to this...”

***

On Fridays, Zuko had one more class, so she waited for him in the school common room. She decided to use this time to get her homework done. The weekend off seemed enticing. Even more tempting was the olive armchair located in the corner of the room. As a result, she didn’t open even one notebook. The girl wrote to Zuko where to look for her, after which she began to scroll through social media. She didn't even notice when the time had passed, and the boy entered the room.

"Come on, Enchantress. We’ve got a lot of work to do”, he said from the entrance.

"Hey!" She said half offended, half belligerently. She got up, taking the bag off the floor. "And what was that supposed to mean?"

He sent her a combination of one of those distinctive cryptic looks and pugnacious smirks. He waited for the girl to catch up with him.

"Where are we going to fight? Not that I want to make a secret of it, but no one needs to know that we practice together.”

"Relax. I know the place,” his eyes were fixed on unnamed thing in front of him, as he headed toward the exit. "I left my car on the other side of the school.”

"A car?"

"I thought you might be afraid of the motorcycle," he replied, amused.

"Well... You thought rightly so," she wasn't going to pretend to be brave. She didn't consider that fear to be a cause for shame.

It took them longer than she had imagined to walk through the vast tracts of land at the rear of the building. At some point, the neatly trimmed lawn of the manor house turned into a meadow with tall grass, and the sidewalks and trampled paths completely disappeared. There was a Mustang outside the south gate. Red, of course, in a shade similar to his jacket. Katara was beginning to think that Zuko didn't acknowledge any other color. They were driving for maybe ten minutes, when the boy stopped on the edge of a coniferous forest, on a hill just outside the town.

"Nice view," she commented, looking at the valley.

"Leave the bag. You won't need it," he said, before slamming the door behind him.

"I have all my clothes for change in it," she replied, leaning halfway out of the car. "I can't work out in uniform.”

"As I said. Today you won’t need it.”

"I don't know if you're aware, but we don't have time for that.”

He smiled. A year earlier, he himself had been just as hot-headed and impatient. He wanted to know everything at once. The most difficult and advanced secrets of knowledge. Now he knew that without a solid foundations, any house would collapse.

"You will soon find out, that the basics are crucial, and growth is a process that should not be rushed.”

"But...”

"It was you, who came to me," he stressed. "You need me. I don’t need you. We do it my way, or not at all.”

"Okay," she replied, resigned and angry.

As she was leaving, she slammed the door as hard as she could. Zuko looked at her with a mixture of murder and disbelief.

"Do you know how much this car is worth?"

"Easy. Daddy will buy you a new one," she smiled in a fake and way too sweet manner.

"I'm afraid they don't produce them anymore. It’s a nineteen sixty-nine model,” without saying anything more, he headed towards the trees.

Zuko must have taken her to some pristine part of the forest, because there was not a single trail in the area. Even a makeshift track. However, he seemed to be perfectly oriented in the field. He diligently avoided protruding roots and low-hanging branches. Finally, they went out into a small clearing. It was a bit slippery, besides a relatively good exercise area.

“Are you okay with this place?” He asked when she joined him.

"Do I have a choice?" She replied tartly. Then she added more calmly. "It’ll do.”

"According to your wishes, no one will disturb us here. Although, we won’t spend much time here today.”

"So why did you take me here?"

"So you could breathe this place. Could feel it," he said, closing his eyes, then took a deep breath himself.

"Are you kidding me?"

"It's important to be connected with the environment.”

"You were supposed to teach me to fight," she became more and more impatient.

"And I'll do it," he said sharply. "Your problem is that you're too emotional in the fight.”

"And how’d you know?"

"Because I was exactly like you. Now it’s my strength, not my weakness.”

Katara was not weak. She was fed up with his taunts. Angry, she delivered a blow. Without opening his eyes, he grabbed her by the wrist.

“Another problem. You imitate your brother's style too much. Find your own.”

She was furious, but deep down she knew the boy was right. She gave up.

"So what am I supposed to do?"

"Close your eyes," he expected another sneer, but she obediently carried out his command. "I don't know how the bending of water works. You have to find a way yourself, and feel the place. You’ll spend a lot of time here. Try to understand it.”

She tried to focus and relax at the same time. She didn't know what to look for.

"Don't think too much," his soft murmur came to her from the darkness.

A palpable smell of wet litter. She heard the distant chirping of birds. She tried to catch something. She didn't know what. A thought? A feeling?

"Source," she whispered, opening her eyes.

"Look how fast you're progressing. It is said, that this water has magical properties. Magical in this superstitious sense, of course.”

"Where is it?"

"I think you already know. Or rather, you feel. Lead the way.”

She stood for a moment, wondering, then moved deeper towards the forest. Zuko smiled behind her back, and followed in her footsteps. The girl crouched down and scooped water into an old, metal canteen.

"You never know," she replied to his surprised look.

"In a week's time, be dressed up and ready. We'll start for real.”

***

Katara approached her duties reliably. Including those, that she imposed on herself. So she felt unearthly frustration when, despite her efforts, she was not good enough in her opinion. They had been practicing together every Friday for over three months now. They got used to each other's company, but she still couldn’t win with him. He never went easy on her, for which she valued him. However, she was slowly getting annoyed. They had been practicing this particular sequence for some time. And even though she was doing pretty well, after every repetition, when he immobilized her hands, she said "again."

"Come on. Take it out," he said during one of the long sessions. "I know you want to.”

She stared at him for a moment, confused, but he stood there with his hands down on his sides, without making the slightest movement. He just waited for her to come close.

"We won’t to move forward, until you do it. It's in your head," he added.

She walked over, and stood several dozen centimeters in front of him. His torso was level with her eyesight. She began to hit it with her fists. She made the first move hesitantly, not entirely convinced. He didn't even flinch. As always. During their sessions she managed to reach him many times, but her punches and kicks have never impressed him much. The mere thought of it irritated her, and she began to hit the solid ribcage harder and faster. She couldn't control herself, as if she had fallen into a trance. Eventually, her movements became slower and less confident.

"Are you done?" Can we continue? "He asked in such a tone as if he were addressing a child.

Fool. She was breathing heavily and felt pain in her knuckles. She hit him one last time.

"Now I’m done.”

"Great. And now hit me for real.”

She widened her eyes in anger and surprise. She thought she would kill him. She was sure of that. She was sick of his ignorance. She attacked instinctively.

"Hands up. Then you will be able to protect your face and skull without taking your eyes off your opponent.”

He delivered blows towards her head. When he marked the kick, she lowered her hand and he punched her jaw.

"What did you do wrong?"

"I didn't raise my arms," she groaned in pain.

"That’s okay. Body memory will remember for you. You won't be perfect after just a few attempts.”

"I'm fine.”

"Are you sure you don't want to take a break?"

"Again," she replied firmly, raising her hands.

***

In mid-February, Katara was once again summoned to the principal's office. The door was already open, when she entered the secretary's office.

"Katara, he's The Master Pakku," Gyatso pointed to the old man, standing next to his desk. "From now on, he will be responsible for your training.”

The man had long gray hair, although he began to go bald on the top of his head. He had a mustache as thin as a catfish and a goatee. On his face was an eternal expression of dissatisfaction. Katara had mixed feelings.

"I'll see you tomorrow at dawn.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but the headmaster spoke first.

"That's all Katara. You can leave now.”                                                                                

Before the girl closed the door behind her, she heard a scrap of conversation.

"I think there was a mistake. You didn't say it was a girl.”

Katara was no longer sure if she wanted to take extra lessons. Nevertheless, the next morning she showed up at school. He was waiting for her in the auditorium A specific mannequin for learning to heal, was spread out on the round table.

"I don't understand how healing is supposed to help me fight," she said instead of greeting.

"You young people... All you want to do is just to fight. That's because you don't remember the war," he replied, placing strange-looking instruments on the table.

"You are to teach me how to fight. What else should I expect?”

"No. I am to teach you the bending of water.”

Master Pakku was demanding. He was also prejudiced. Katara had no idea why he was assigned to her. During the first month, he taught her the powerful magic of healing. The oldest, most forgotten arcana were a trivial matter to him. And Katara was a diligent student. This knowledge, however, came in pain, because there was no lesson during which they haven’t argued. And they argued fiercely. Katara couldn't stand his biased approach. Ironically, she had to fight for her first lesson in combat. She didn’t think that the old man would agree. After that class, she was to go to the headmaster Gyatso with a request to change the teacher. So she was surprised, when the next morning she didn’t find a familiar dummy in the auditorium.

"You have to understand that growth is a slow process.” The words seemed like echo. “But since you are in such a hurry to fight...”

On that day, Katara missed a school day for the first time in her life. Even if she wanted to, she wasn't able to go to class.

"You're spinning the water all around, but you don't feel the pulls and thrusts.”

"I'm trying," she said through clenched teeth, struggling to maintain control of the water.

After another month with Master Pakku, Katara regretted begging for combat lessons. After his classes, she wanted to scream and cry. Every day, he reminded her that she wasn't enough. Still, she stayed. She didn't let go, because she knew no one could teach her more. Even if he made her not want to get out of bed in the morning. Even if she hated him more than anyone else in this world.

***

On Friday afternoon, Katara was waiting for Zuko as usual. He was already an hour late, and surprisingly she wasn't getting impatient. Instead, she began to worry. In their relationship, it was a completely new, alien feeling. He didn't answer the third call. She nervously tapped on the case. After a while, she got a text message. There was a single word on the screen. Huo.

"I thought we had training today," she said to the boy behind the counter.

She took off her coat, placing it on the bar stool.

"I'm sorry, but Joo Dee felt unwell, and I had to cover her shift," he took a tray full of dirty dishes, and motioned with his head, to let her know to follow him.

The kitchen was small, but modernly equipped. Everything was silver and sterile. Pots hung from the ceiling.

"Fancy a coffee?" He asked, putting the dishes in the sink.

"You know I prefer tea.”

"That does you credit," a cheerful voice resounded behind their backs.

They both turned around at the same time, as if they were making something sketchy. The girl’s often seen a man hanging around the tea room. He was short and squat. He always talked to customers with sincere interest or concern.

"Uncle, this is Katara,” Zuko said quickly. "Katara, this is my uncle, Iroh.”

“Katara, you say…" The old man looked at him peculiarly, then shifted his curious gaze to her. "I have to go take care of taxes. Please make yourself at home.”

"Thank you, sir.”

"The pleasure is mine," the man smiled friendly for the last time, before disappearing into the back room.

"Give me a second, and I’ll put the kettle on," the boy said, as he put the last cup in the sink.

"Come on. Finish what you're supposed to do, I can do it myself,” Katara took off the lid, the very moment the boy reached out to heat the liquid.

The lid rattled against the metal countertop with a crash.

"Shit!” She shouted. "It hurts, it hurts, it hurts...”

"Why did you open it?! Don’t you know that scalding with steam is much worse than scalding with boiling water?" He lunged towards her.

"Why did you heat it up, when you saw me reaching for the kettle?!"

"Give," he ordered firmly.

He took her hand between his own, and pressed his thumbs tightly to the top, as she felt the searing heat leaving her body.

"You have to do the rest yourself. You have the power of healing. Now let me make tea," he said, letting go of her hand. "Properly.”

***

At the end of April, Katara started going over the material from the beginning. She wanted to be sure that before the trip, she’d know everything she was supposed to. Yue, like every other weekend, was spending Saturday at her grandma’s, so Katara had the evening free. The phone lying on the bed beside her vibrated. The girl glanced at the screen.

"Feel like an extra training session?"

She was typing a short reply to confirm when another message came through.

"I’ll be down below in five."

"Always knew you were the type to stay on the bottom."

 She didn’t know what possessed her, but she hit send. The reply came instantly.

"Give me ten and we’ll see who’s gonna be on top."

She could’ve sworn the temperature in the room went up a few degrees. She grabbed the blue windbreaker hanging on her chair, picked up the bag standing by the door, and left the house. The car was already parked by the curb. The boy stood leaning against the hood, arms crossed over his chest. That usual, cocky smile dancing on his lips.

“I see you’re getting bold,” he said, opening the passenger door wide without taking his hand off it.

“I see you’re getting vulgar.”

“I meant sparring. Fighting.”

“Sure you did.”

She realized it was the first time he was this relaxed around her. Natural. Even though she had long since learned to see through his usual mask of indifference, this was the first time she saw him without it.
A woman pushing a stroller passed by on the sidewalk. The conversation with her friend walking on her left went quiet for a moment. As they passed, their hushed voices clearly carried comments about his face.

“Zuko…”

“It’s nothing, Katara. Get in.”  He cut her off sharply.

She decided not to press the subject. During the drive to the hilltop, the boy didn’t say a word, his fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly. Once there, he tried to pull off his usual cocky posture, but she knew it was a front. He was still thinking about what had happened earlier. Without waiting for her, he headed toward the trees.

“Wait. I forgot my bag.”  She tugged at the door handle. “I can’t open it.”

He walked over to the passenger side, patting at his pockets to find the keys.

“Did you press the button?”

“You always make me do it.”

“Well, then we’re screwed.”

“Why?”

“I locked the keys in.”  He said it plainly.

“You’re joking.”  In response, he pointed at the key still hanging in the ignition.

“Well… I guess we don’t have many options left,” he said, lacing his fingers together and holding them out at her knee level.

“What?”

“Up you go,” he said, tilting his head toward the roof of the car.

He gave her a boost, and a moment later pulled himself up too. He pulled out his phone and sent a flurry of messages.

“We’ll have to wait a bit for the spare keys.”

“I thought you’d just break the window.”

“You must be out of your mind.”

“It’s pretty here,” she said, gazing out over the valley at dusk.

“You say that every time we come here.”

“Because it’s true.”

She was sitting cross-legged. He had his legs dangling. For a long moment, she weighed all the pros and cons. Then she turned to sit facing him. He bent one knee, mirroring her.

“May I?” She asked, raising a hand hesitantly.

He tensed up but nodded. He held his breath, waiting.
With her fingertips, she gently traced the skin of his cheek. Light as a butterfly’s wing. The texture was different. The skin oddly dry. She stared at it for a moment before speaking.

“I completely forgot it was there. Is that weird?” She whispered.
She had no idea why she was whispering.

“Kind of weird, considering it’s right here. Dead center on my face,”  he tried to lighten the mood, but it came off a bit forced.
He decided it was pointless anyway. Why pretend?“You looked at me… That first day… When I came back… So strangely. Differently.” He kept pausing, clearly struggling to find the right words. “You didn’t look away. There was no disgust, no fear. Just curiosity. After the accident, that was new. You intrigued me.”

“You didn’t know me. That’s understandable.”

“I’ve been watching you for a while now. I can’t stop staring into those ocean eyes.”

Only now did she feel how heavy the atmosphere had grown. Thank God headlights appeared on the road. She had no idea how to respond. The boy jumped down from the roof, heading toward the car. He raised a hand as the light hit his face in the darkness.

“Next time, bring your girls somewhere closer to home,”  a voice said behind her. She thanked every deity that Azula’s face was lost in the shadows.  “Catch, loser.”

She heard the jingle of keys, and a moment later the lights switched off.

“Azula…?”  The question lingered in the air as he reached out a hand to help her down.

“She might not be the best, but she’s my sister. I can count on her when I need to.”

She set her phone down on the roof, flashlight on. Resting her right hand on his shoulder, she shifted all her weight onto him. As she slowly lowered herself to the ground, her windbreaker slipped off her shoulder. In the weak beam of light, the boy caught sight of two narrow lines of text inked on her skin, just below the shoulder.

“Goodnight, goodbye! Bye, we’re dying?” he asked, curious.

The girl still stood in front of him, looking at his face. He sensed the shift in mood. She sighed deeply and lowered her gaze. In some twisted way, she felt she could trust him.

“My mom was flying home to Hawaii after visiting a college friend. The plane crashed in the forests near Honolulu. Those were the last recorded words of the pilot.”

“Katara, I’m so sorry…”

“No need. It was a long time ago.”

“I shouldn’t have asked.”

“You couldn’t have known,” she said with a faint smile.  “I don’t even know why I got it tattooed. I guess I thought that even though so many years had passed, in some way it would make it feel like I was there with her… That she wasn’t alone and scared. Those words were the last thing that tied her to life. I know it probably makes no sense, but to me, it does.”

Something changed that day. She couldn’t say what. But she felt it.

***

“You and Zuko spend a lot of time together.”

“Yeah. Seems like we do, Suki” the girl replied absentmindedly. Suddenly, her eyes widened in horror. “Did you tell Sokka?”

“Oh please,”  she scoffed, offended.  “But I can’t wait to see his face when he finds out.”

***

May that year was unusually warm. All the hawthorns in town had already bloomed. On Monday, the senior class was set to leave for a trip to Summerfield. To celebrate, Theo decided to throw a house party Saturday night. Katara went with her now-usual crew—Sokka, Suki, Yue, and Aang, who never went anywhere without Toph.
The house was only three blocks away. Nothing fancy. The kind of place built for a couple, two kids, and a dog. White wooden paneling. From the street, you could see straight into the yellow-lit living room.
By the time they arrived, the place was already packed.
To the left of the entrance, wooden stairs led to the upper floor. A couple was making out halfway up. The hallway walls were lined with black-framed family photos. A brown rug stretched across the floor. On the right, there wasn’t a door to the living room—just an archway in the wall. Katara glanced inside while scanning the room for familiar faces.
Two dark green, sixties-style couches sat opposite the archway. Between them, a low wooden coffee table overflowed with red plastic cups, glass bottles, and ashtrays. A small open area behind one of the couches had been cleared for dancing. She spotted Zuko, dancing with Mai.
She immediately looked away—like she’d seen something she wasn’t supposed to. Whatever she felt in that moment, it definitely wasn’t jealousy.

“Let’s grab a drink,” she said to Yue.

Sokka and Suki had already disappeared somewhere.

“Rum and Coke?”

“You know me.”

Zuko was on his way to the bathroom when he saw her—wearing loose-fitting jeans and a black satin tank top, her hair down, a red cup in hand. A gold necklace shimmered between her collarbones. She looked natural. Relaxed. That was probably the first moment Zuko thought she looked beautiful.
She was leaning against a sideboard, laughing at something Theo said. Zuko wasn’t sure why, but suddenly he needed another beer. He turned toward the kitchen instead of the bathroom. After a beat, he decided he needed something stronger.

***

A few hours later, the party was nowhere near winding down. If anything, it was just heating up. Music was louder, the crowd denser. Katara had no idea how much she’d had to drink—but suddenly everything tilted sideways.

“I need to find Sokka,” she mumbled into the air. She wasn’t even sure who she was talking to.

“Leaving already?” Theo stepped in her way.

She didn’t have the strength to push past him. Tried to say something, but no sound came out. Something was wrong. Really wrong. She needed fresh air. Now.He grabbed her arm and steadied her against the hallway dresser. His hand slid slowly down her forearm. Then landed on her waist. He leaned in and whispered something in her ear. Then his hand started moving lower. Did she lift her hand to stop him? She couldn’t remember. In her head, she had. But everything was spinning. She couldn’t see. Shouldn’t have drunk so much.
From somewhere deeper in the house, a voice cut through the noise.

“Zuko! Where are you going?!”

A moment later, Theo hit the floor—knocked down by a clean, hard right hook.
Katara didn’t register it.

“If she can’t say no, she can’t say yes either,” Zuko said flatly, shaking out his knuckles. He knew he’d feel that in the morning.
The music had cut out. Everyone was staring—some curious, some scared. Zuko turned to her.

“Come on. Let’s get out of here.” He slipped an arm around her waist, guiding her toward the door.
He bent down so her arm could hang around his neck. They walked down the middle of the empty street, weaving side to side under the rhythmic glow of the streetlights. She could barely stay upright. Almost unconscious. It felt like forever before they even made it two blocks.

“Just... gimme a second,” she said suddenly, lifting her head.

“We’re almost there,” he urged her along.

“Just a minute,” she groaned.

He sat her down on the curb. She folded herself forward, head between her knees. A moment later, her forehead was resting between her black sneakers. She looked out cold again.
“Come on, Enchantress. We have to keep going.”

“I can’t,” she whispered, on the edge of tears. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this bad. She was dying. She was absolutely sure of it. “Leave me here. There’s no way.”

“Jesus, Katara...”

He crouched down and grabbed both her wrists with one hand, the crook of her knees with the other, and in one motion hoisted her over his shoulder.
Please don’t throw up now, he thought.

“I’m just as good as you,” she slurred. “We’re equals. We’re partners.”

“In crime.”

“In crime,” she echoed.

***

When they finally reached her house, he sat her gently on the porch steps. Tried the door. Locked.
He hesitated for a moment, then figured he had nothing to lose. No one was around to see. He lifted the doormat.

“Jesus, you guys are way too obvious,” he muttered, picking up the silver key.
He unlocked the door and shoved the key back under the mat.

“Come on, Enchantress.” He threw her arm over his shoulder again. “You’ll be in bed in no time.”

The house was dead quiet. No TV buzz. No dripping faucet. Not even the hum of snoring. Zuko prayed none of the floorboards creaked. He didn’t know the layout, but he was pretty sure her bedroom faced the street.
They staggered up the stairs, bouncing off the walls and railing. Under normal conditions, they’d have been up there already.

“My dad’s gonna kill me,” she moaned.

“He’ll kill us if you wake him up.”

At the top of the stairs, he had to guess. Two identical doors at the end of the hallway. He picked the one on the right, opening it carefully. His heart slowed a little when he saw a relatively girly room. He pushed the door wider and walked straight to the bed, dropping her onto it without much ceremony. Exhaled loudly. He was definitely sober now.
He glanced at her jeans and sneakers and debated whether to undress her for sleep. Decided against it instantly.
There was a photo on the nightstand. He picked it up. The woman in the picture had the same blue eyes as Katara and Sokka. He looked back at the sleeping girl. She looked so much like her mother. And in that moment, he realized he’d crossed into something deeply private—much more than if he’d undressed her.
He set the photo down.
He wanted to scan the room, judge her music taste or books—but he knew he had to get out of there.
He opened the window. It creaked softly, the sound magnified in the silence of the house. He swung one leg over the sill and carefully stepped out onto the porch roof. Tried to pull the window shut behind him, but it stuck. Screw it.
He climbed to the edge of the roof, grabbed it with both hands, and dropped onto the grass.
Easier than he expected.
He turned—and found himself face-to-face with Sokka, who looked completely thrown.

“She overdid it.”

Sokka nodded slowly, like he was still processing.

“Close her window, okay? Don’t want your dad getting suspicious.”

“He’s working the night shift. Didn’t she tell you?”

“Guess she forgot to mention it.”

“Thanks for getting her home, man.”

“That’s what friends are for.”

“You’re not my friend.”

“Wasn’t talking about you.”

 He left Sokka standing alone on the lawn.
 He didn’t go back to the party.
 He probably wasn’t welcome there anymore anyway.

***

On Monday morning, Katara was already feeling completely fine. With her right hand, she held the gray door of her school locker, stretching up on her toes to reach the upper shelf. She was gathering the last few essentials into her backpack. Out of the corner of her left eye, she spotted Sokka approaching.

“How are you? Feeling better yet?”

“If you hadn’t spent the whole day at Suki’s, you’d know I’m feeling great,” she said, pausing for a moment as if lost in thought. She didn’t notice that Zuko had stepped up behind her.

“But seriously… thanks for taking me home. I would’ve died of embarrassment if anyone saw me like that.”

“But I…” Sokka started gesturing, glancing over her shoulder. Behind her, Zuko shook his head. “Sure. No problem. That’s what brothers are for. I’m heading to the bus—Suki’s waiting.”

“See you in a bit.” She turned back to the locker. But before she could reach for it again, the door slammed shut with a loud bang.

“Morning, Enchantress. We’re going together on the trip. Excited?” Zuko leaned against the locker with a sly smile.

“How many times do I have to tell you I’m a bender, you douchebag?” she snapped, opening the door again, which blocked him from view.

“Yeah, I’m excited too,” he replied nonchalantly.
She finally zipped up her bag.

“Don’t tell me you’re not even a little nervous,” she said as they started walking toward the bus.

“About what? Every year they kick our asses. No pressure. Day off school. Probably a spontaneous party. Sounds like a good time.”

“Have you ever taken anything seriously in your life?”

“Have you ever not taken something seriously in your life?”

“I can have fun!” she said, offended.

“I know. I took you home, remember?”

“If I could’ve made it back from that pool on my own, I wouldn’t have asked for help.”

“Of course you wouldn’t have,” he said with a cryptic smile.

“Actually, I didn’t even ask for help. You offered.”

“Exactly. I’m a gentleman. Speaking of which... ladies first.” He gestured toward the vehicle.

The bus was parked just beyond the school’s tall gate. They quickly climbed the steps through the back entrance. Nearby, other late students were waiting for their bags to be tossed into the luggage compartment. Four seats ahead, facing the back of the bus, Sokka was waving to her from over the headrests. She made her way toward him, but suddenly stopped short, grabbing the seats on either side of the aisle for balance. Zuko bumped into her back.

On the middle seat in the very last row, with Jet’s arm draped over her shoulders, sat Azula.

“What are you doing here?” Katara stammered.

Yue had said there was no way younger students would be allowed to go to Summerfield unless they were representing school.

“You’ve got to be kidding. What’s the point of having money if you can’t use it to get what you want?”

“And what exactly is it that you want this time?” Zuko asked in his perfectly bored voice, making a slow circle in the air with his hand.

“I’m getting into that school.”

Chapter Text

“You weren’t even good enough to be chosen to represent this school,” he emphasized the second-to-last word.

“We both know I’m better than you, Zuzu. Your face says it all.”

The boy clenched his jaw.

“Everyone sit down!” The tense atmosphere was broken by Master Yu’s booming voice. “Please raise your hand when I call your name.”

Katara sat alone, parallel to Sokka and Suki. Zuko headed all the way to the back to sit next to Jet. Before departure, the attendance list was checked twice.

The trip to Summerfield was supposed to take around twelve hours. Katara silently thanked herself for putting on her favorite light blue sweats. Above her left ankle, there was a small burnt hole—a souvenir from their last trip to the city pool—but she didn’t care. From her backpack, she pulled out a book to pass the time. She put on her headphones to drown out the buzz of conversation. She started some random art pop playlist on Spotify. She spent the next few hours reading, though most of that time was actually dedicated to pretending she was in a movie—or at least a high-budget music video. Her mind and the lyrics fed her wild scenarios. After a bathroom break and with no better options, she decided to take a nap. When she woke up, it was already completely dark outside, the bus was silent, and they were just over an hour from their destination.

As soon as they arrived at Summerfield High, they were immediately directed toward one of the dormitories. Everyone crowded in with their luggage into the relatively spacious lobby, while the teachers talked among themselves, flipping through papers. Long yawns could be heard every few seconds. Some blond guy Katara couldn’t recognize from the back was scratching his head. A girl next to him, bent over in half, leaned against her suitcase, softly snoring.

“Girls will take the rooms on the first and second floors. Boys, third and fourth. Please form groups of four or three quickly, or we’ll assign rooms for you,” Master Pakku’s voice rang out through the hall.

“That’s not fair to the heteros!” Sokka shouted.

A collective snort of laughter followed.

“For once, you’ll be the ones getting discriminated against,” said the guy who took English class with him.

Katara and Suki exchanged a look and walked over to Toph.

“How about sharing a room with us?”

“I thought that was obvious.” Over the last few months, they’d gotten used to her sarcastic tone.

Zuko was heading toward Jet when Master Zhao stepped in his way.

“Please join Aang and Sokka. We want to keep all of you nearby, in case of any sudden, unexpected changes to the tournament.”

Zuko nodded obediently, taking the key from the man. A traffic jam had already formed on the stairs as everyone tried to drag their overloaded suitcases and backpacks up the steps, the wheels constantly getting caught.

Each room looked exactly the same. Two bunk beds on either side. Two long desks under the window. Two more desks against the opposite walls, forming a U shape. Heavy wooden wardrobes. Communal bathrooms on each floor.

Katara and Toph took the bottom bunks. Suki jumped onto the bed above Katara’s. They left their suitcases open in the middle of the room, not bothering to unpack that night. The boys did the same—none of them even tried to look for pajamas.

In the morning, breakfast was served at eight-thirty. The group had nothing on their schedule that day except for the official welcome at three. Most students chose to spend the break wandering around the campus. The athletes had a training session planned with their respective masters.

“Terrible... Terrible,” Master Pakku muttered under his breath, judging the brunette’s posture. With a firm, not exactly gentle motion, he adjusted her feet.

“I’m trying,” Katara gritted her teeth.

The only comfort was that Zuko, training beside her, wasn’t doing any better. His master had already thrown him to the mat three times. A streak of soot stained his cheek.

“Focus, girl!” Master Pakku thundered. “Try harder. Again. From the beginning.”

“I am trying,” she snapped back, this time unintentionally.

As she returned to the starting position, a loud snicker came from a neighboring mat. A moment later, she sent a splash of water in that direction.

“What the hell?!” Zuko shouted indignantly, wiping water from his face.

“Much better wrist bend,” Master Pakku commented. “Again.”

***

When Katara got back to the room, Toph was already dressed for practice. Suki stood in the middle, stretching. The brunette collapsed face-down onto the bed.

“Your turn,” her voice was muffled by the pillow. “Zuko already went to get Aang.”

“Guess we’ll see you at lunch,” Toph said, heading for the door.

“Not me,” Suki replied. “Sokka and I have a second training session.”

“In that case, until the ceremony,” Toph said goodbye and left the room.

“I’m still not over that bus ride,” Suki started doing forward bends to stretch her back. “How am I supposed to fight like this?”

“Tell me about it. I didn’t sleep at all.”

“Strange bed,” the girl answered plainly.

“How do people sleep on those things?”

“You know, for them—” Suki turned around, but Katara was already fast asleep.

***

The girl was woken up by the slam of a door.

"Kat, you're not up yet?!" Suki asked, slightly too loud.

The girl rubbed her eyes several times, but her vision was still blurry. It was one of those dreams where you wake up with your pillow imprinted on your face, not knowing what year it is.

"Why didn’t you wake me up?" Katara turned toward Toph, lying on the bed next to hers.

The brunette paused her hand, tracing the next lines. She always complained about how hard it was to find a good book for the blind that wasn’t an audiobook.

"I didn’t want to disturb you."

"Toph..." Katara groaned reproachfully, starting to gather her things for a bath.

"If I were you, I’d put the bedding out on the windowsill. It reeks, and it's not just my heightened senses talking."

Katara threw a sponge at her, but the girl caught it with ease.

An hour later, the girls were running down the stairwell, trying to make it to the auditorium in time for the official opening. They were among the last to enter the hall.

The auditorium was designed like an ancient Greek theater. Rows of seats covered in red fabric rose in a semicircle. They scanned them, looking for the boys, when they heard someone whistle on their fingers. Master Yu scolded Sokka, and the girls began heading toward the seats he had taken. Down below, on a podium in the center, a lectern had been set up. Behind it stood a tall man, around fifty. He wore an overly ornate purple suit. His white teeth contrasted with his tanned skin. He waited a moment longer, then glanced at a watch with a thick silver bracelet and cleared his throat to silence the murmurs.

"We would like to warmly welcome our dear guests to our humble halls. My name is Yakone Tarrlok"—a flash of white teeth—"and I am the principal of this institution. I am truly pleased to officially open yet another tournament held in honor of Avatar Coji. It is a long-standing tradition, and I am grateful for the many years of cooperation between our schools. I hope your time at Summerfield High will be extraordinary. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to come to me with anything at all. I wish all competitors the best of luck. May the best win!"

With a final smile, he stepped off the stage. Katara had a strange feeling. Though the man seemed warm and open, she sensed bad vibes. Something artificial in that superficial smile. After him, a short woman with gray hair tied in a high bun took the podium. She began outlining organizational matters. The first challenge was to take place at 1 p.m. the next day. On the third day, they would visit an art gallery in Phoenix. The fourth was time for the second task. The following evening was the annual ball, leading up to the finals. They were to leave on the seventh day, right after breakfast. Katara hoped—with the trophy. Whoever among them would win it. The woman’s final announcement was about a welcome party, to be held immediately after the opening on the school courtyard. It was large, symmetrical, and well lit. Paths and benches were hidden in the shade of sprawling trees.

"And? How are you feeling before it all?" Aang asked as they walked outside.

"I haven’t seen the competition yet, but I’m ready to beat up whoever I need to," Sokka said. The feeling of stress was nearly foreign to him.

"Adorable. You said the same thing when we first met," Suki chimed in.

"How was I supposed to know you’re the best warrior in the world?" He lifted her chin with a bent index finger and placed a gentle kiss on her lips.

"Maybe because literally everyone warned you about Suki?" Katara ruined the moment. She still wasn’t used to the affection between her friend and her brother. She was happy for him, but Sokka had never been the type to show affection publicly. It was hard for her to adjust.

"That big, scary, outrageously manly warrior," Suki laughed again.

"God, I’m starving," Katara immediately headed toward the snack tables.

The first one had small sandwiches and cheese skewers laid out. She grabbed two sandwiches right away, shoving the first, whole at once into her mouth.

"Graceful, as always," Zuko commented.

"Shut up. I didn’t have lunch."

"Me neither. I’m starving," Sokka added, piling salad onto his plate from the next table.

"So, how's training?" Katara asked, chewing the second sandwich.

"Pretty good. Suki’s in top form," her brother replied. "I still have trouble with that double kick, but other than that, no complaints."

"And you guys?" Suki turned to Aang and Toph.

"Individually, we're fine, but when we have to fight together, we struggle," Toph replied.

"Same here," Zuko added.

"Have I mentioned that opposite elements suck?" Katara asked.

"Two… maybe three…" Toph pretended to think deeply. "Thousand times."

"It’s like thirty degrees. How can you drink tea?" Sokka turned to Aang, who was walking away from the last table where drinks were set out. They all sat under one of the trees whose canopy provided enough shade for them all to hide.

"I feel like something’s coming on. My throat's been hurting since yesterday."

"Dude, you can't get sick now..."

"Shh," Suki interrupted her boyfriend, then continued conspiratorially, "That’s Asami Sato." She nodded her chin toward the girl walking across the courtyard. "She’s going to fight Sokka."

The girl was stunning. Probably the most beautiful Katara had ever seen. A slender figure, full red lips, and piercing green eyes highlighted by a violet pastel shade. She looked like someone Sokka could knock down in a second. His biceps had to be thicker than her legs. If Asami wasn’t fast and agile, Katara had no idea how she’d manage against him. Her thoughts were interrupted by Suki’s voice.

"And that’s Amon. The best fighter I’ve ever seen." From her, that meant a lot. "No offense, honey."

"No, don’t mind me at all. I’m not even here. How do you even know that?"

"Who do you think represented that sorry school last year? He beat me, but I’m planning to get my revenge."

"You said you were on vacation with your parents!" Sokka shouted, offended.

"That school never wins. You think I wanted to admit I was going after you kept lording over me? Assumed from the start that a girl didn’t stand a chance? I couldn’t say anything until I was sure I’d win. And I could only be sure after the match. And clearly, I was right."

"And who’s that?" Zuko’s curious voice cut into the beginning of their argument.

He was staring at the girl who had joined the other two.

"Ayumi, Asami’s twin. She’s going to fight you, Zuko."

The girls were perfect copies. Figure, lips, eyes. The girl’s beauty matched her sister’s. You couldn’t tell them apart, except for the hair. While Asami had stunning jet-black waves, Ayumi had straight, snow-white strands pulled into a high ponytail.

Katara didn’t know why, but she didn’t want that girl getting even a millimeter close to Zuko. She looked at the boy, but he wasn’t paying her any attention, staring at the girl sitting on the low wall on the other side of the courtyard with deep intrigue—almost fascination. As if sensing his gaze, the girl lifted her eyes. She tilted her head, and the expression of endless boredom disappeared from her face for the first time. Zuko gave her one of his trademark cocky, mischievous smiles.

"And they all fought last year?" Katara asked, a bit too loudly.

"Nope. But hey, that’s what Instagram is for, right?"

"What about me? Who am I fighting?" Toph was clearly excited, looking around.

"Bolin. He’s by the sandwich table."

"That giant?"

"That’s the one."

"But you didn’t manage to find the airbender, did you?" Aang’s voice was full of hope.

"I know his name is Zaheer, but honestly, I don’t see him anywhere."

"Good enough," Aang replied cheerfully, slowly sipping his tea.

Five, maybe ten minutes later, Principal Tarrlok stepped onto the courtyard through a side glass door. He started heading toward the small group formed by teachers from both Summerfield High and Mythbrook. He hadn’t taken more than a few steps when Azula blocked his path.

"Good afternoon, sir," she began sweetly, her smile almost sincere. Completely unlike her.

"You must be Katara," he replied cheerfully.

"Actually, my name is..."

"Toph?" Azula shook her head. His enthusiasm faded. His tone went flat. "Suki?"

"No sir, my name is..."

"Then we have nothing to talk about." The girl tried to stop him, but he paid her no attention. When he reached the teachers, the broad smile returned to his face. He juggled masks with astonishing ease.

"Ouch," Suki said curtly.

"Yeah, that had to hurt," Toph replied.

"She had it coming," Zuko added calmly.

***

At night, Katara was so anxious she couldn’t sleep. She kept tossing and turning. She envied Toph, who was snoring loudly. She was nervous about the first task. The feeling that she didn’t belong here wouldn’t leave her. That she hadn’t earned this. That she got in on credit—trust—and now she wouldn’t be able to pay it back. She repeated all the sequences and movements in her head. She was afraid that if she didn’t fall asleep soon, she would perform terribly in the morning. Not because of lack of skill, but because of exhaustion.

The screen of the phone lying on the nightstand lit up. The girl propped herself up on her elbow to reach for it. The screen kept flashing.

“Come on.”
“Don’t stress.”
“You’re gonna be great.”

Katara smiled. Sokka knew her like no one else.
She typed back quickly.

“You’re gonna be the best, brother. I’m rooting for you!”

She put the phone down and turned onto her side again, trying to sleep. Sleep came much faster this time.

***

The next day, Katara was more tired than usual, but not so much that a steaming cup of coffee couldn’t fix it. After breakfast, she was insanely stressed but equally ready for the first task. Her opponent was a guy named Desna. Like Zaheer, he hadn’t shown up at the meet-and-greet the night before.

Sokka and Suki were scheduled to fight back-to-back at one o’clock. It was hard to pin down the schedule because a single duel could last two minutes—or two hours. The first task for airbenders was tentatively scheduled for two o’clock. After them, water, earth, and firebenders would perform in order.

Suki was to fight first. She sat on a bench set up for the participants by the edge of the field. She looked focused, as if delivering a motivational monologue inside her head. The rest of the Mythbrook team had taken seats just behind her, in the front row of the stands, which were filling up rapidly.

Katara quickly realized there were more people in this one room than attended all of Mythbrook School. The thought alone made her heart race.

The first duel began on the dot, down to the minute. Katara had seen Suki fight many times before. Full concentration, near-feral determination, and incredible precision. But this time, it felt like Suki had turned into a machine. Precision, meticulousness, and strength Katara had never seen in her before.

She thought she had seen her friend fight before, but now she realized that had just been play. Today, Suki fought like her life depended on it. The girl had only one goal: win at any cost.

Her opponent wasn’t much bigger. Rather short for a boy. Well-built, but no match for Sokka. He made up for it with agility. He wasn’t going down easily. They fought for a solid fifteen minutes before Suki delivered the final blow.

Sokka didn’t fight as elegantly as Suki. That double kick he had so much trouble with failed him again. Katara winced, shutting her eyes.

Within five minutes, her brother was flat on the ground.

Asami looked unreal during the fight. The brunette couldn’t take her eyes off her. She was captivating. And effective.

Somehow, Sokka got back on his feet and, undeterred, tried the kick again. This time, it worked.

At one point, the hair tie holding the girl’s hair snapped, and waves tumbled over her shoulders, obscuring her vision. It lasted a second. But Sokka took the opportunity immediately.

He had more luck than skill. Still, he won.

“Nice one, Sokka!” Aang called out when the boy approached them.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Come on, bro. You won!”

“Yeah... but did you see how?”

“If it helps, I think Asami fought better than Amon,” Suki said.

“You don’t need to cheer me up.”

“No, really. It was spectacular. I think if they fought, she’d beat him easily. Which only proves my theory.”

“Which is...?”

“Mythbrook, Summerfield—what’s the difference? You could be the best fighter around, and there will still be a girl out there better than you.”

The airbenders replaced the previous fighters on the field, and Katara felt her nerves come rushing back with double force. Only this duel stood between her and her own task. She didn’t feel even a little prepared. She felt dizzy.

“You alright, witchy?” Zuko’s voice came from the side.

The girl covered her mouth with her hand, shook her head, and rushed out of the gym.

Thanks to the training the day before, she quickly found the bathroom. She barely made it before she vomited.

For a while, she leaned over the bowl, breathing heavily. She figured the second wave of nausea wouldn’t come, though it still felt like it could at any moment.

She went to the sink and rinsed her mouth several times. Splashed cold water on her face. Straightened up, pressing wet hands to her hot neck.

She stared at her reflection, trying to calm down. She couldn’t. But she took a deeper breath and pretended everything was fine.

She knew she couldn’t hide here forever. Her duel could start any minute.

With resolve, she shoved the door open and stepped into the hallway.

“How’s it going?” Zuko leaned against the wall nearby.

“Spare me,” she replied, resigned. They started walking back to the gym.

“I’m serious. Are you okay?”

Katara stopped suddenly.

“No. Didn’t you notice?” she snapped. “Nothing’s okay. I’m about to walk out there and make a fool of myself in front of all those people.”

“You won’t make a fool of yourself.”

“Did you see them? I wouldn’t stand a chance against any of them. And they don’t even have powers. I wasted all that time training.”

“Do you regret our time together?” he said, mockingly placing a hand on his chest. “You wound me.”

“This isn’t funny! For months I trained with you every Friday. Three days a week I woke up early, sometimes before the sun, and before class, Master Pakku tore me apart mentally and physically. I was exhausted. I cried in the shower every day, and now it turns out it was all for nothing. They shouldn’t have picked me. I shouldn’t even be here.”

“Don’t take it personally. And stop acting like a damn prima ballerina,” he scolded her sharply. “You’re not the only one who worked hard. You’re not the only one who gave it their all. You’re not the only one who’s scared. They’re just better. They’ve been better for years. We’ll go out there. We’ll get our asses handed to us. Everyone will see it, yeah. But that doesn’t mean we won’t give it our all. That doesn’t make us fools. We’re good. Really good. We deserve to be here. Every single one of us. It’s not our fault they’re extraordinary.”

“You’re right,” the girl exhaled loudly. “Sorry.”

“Great. Now pull yourself together, get in there, and give it everything.”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t. You hate it when I’m right. But considering I always am, it’s basically the same thing.”

“I despise you!” she laughed without turning around and was the first to enter the gym.

Zuko’s response died on his lips the moment he crossed the threshold.

“They done already?” he asked Toph, who was sitting in the front row.

“Aang ended up in the basketball hoop. Shame you missed it,” Toph didn’t sound even slightly upset about the first loss. Quite the opposite. She wiped away a tear of laughter.

“Breathe, witchy. Go on.”

Katara started toward Master Pakku.

“There will now be a coin toss to decide which of you goes first.”

“Which of us goes first?” Katara repeated dully. “I thought we’d be fighting each other.”

“You thought wrong, girl.”

And just like the old man said, the coin soon soared into the air. Katara would go second. That gave her a moment to analyze the situation.

She was confused. She sat on the bench just before the front row of stands. Her eyes scanned for as many details as possible.

The waterbenders lined up along the court, presumably to intercept the streams of water scattered during the task.

The Summerfield High contestant stood near the center of the court, slightly to Katara’s left.

From between the stands on the opposite side, an older man slowly walked toward him.

He stopped in front of the boy. They were of similar height and build. Maybe the man was a bit more frail. A little slower. Maybe with slightly thinner hair.

The younger attacked quickly, but the man easily blocked his moves.

Desna did everything he could to defeat the elder. He didn’t stand a chance. He failed.

Katara had mixed feelings. On one hand, she felt relieved that the boy had lost. On the other, she was afraid she’d follow in his footsteps.

Walking onto the court, she passed Desna. She stood exactly where her opponent had stood earlier.

Just like before, an older woman appeared from the stands.

The brunette tried to form a coherent plan that would lead her to victory. She tried to recall every technique she’d learned over the past months. She finally chose one she thought would give her the win.

She attacked, but the woman knew all her moves.

She didn’t stand a chance, just like the boy before her.

She moved on to increasingly forgotten techniques, but the woman handled them with ease. She deflected her moves like a mirror.

She knew ancient arcane magic Katara could only dream of. Just like Master Pakku.

The girl paused.

“Wait a second... This is an illusion,” she said aloud. “That’s me.”

At those words, the woman’s form began to ripple, then turned into a tentacle of water that shot toward Master Pakku.

She had never seen anything like it. Not even in theory. Not even in the rarest scrolls.

The old man nodded at her in approval, then walked toward her.

She stood frozen in place.

Watching the first task, Katara understood why it had to be Pakku who taught her.

“Water has body memory.” Apparently, his lessons weren’t ending with their arrival in Gainsville.

“Why didn’t you teach me that?” she asked.

“I was going to, but you were in such a rush to learn how to fight,” the man seemed particularly pleased with himself.

The girl had long stopped getting angry at his demeanor. But he still annoyed her.

Katara sat in the second row, now completely relaxed. The worst was over.

“Congratulations, witch,” the boy behind her leaned in and whispered into her ear.

“My turn,” Toph said energetically, getting up and heading toward the field.

Unlike Katara, Toph seemed to be looking forward to her duel. Like she couldn’t wait.

And she didn’t have to wait long. She and Bolin entered the court almost simultaneously.

Each was given a square piece of metal. Opposite them stood a man. Katara suspected he taught earthbending at Summerfield High.

The man began maneuvering his piece, and the other two mirrored his movements.

At first, the shapes were simple, but they became increasingly intricate.

“Why did Aang lose?” Katara asked her brother in front.

She had assumed the opponent had knocked him into the hoop. But after seeing that the bending tasks had little to do with actual fighting, she wondered what kind of task the boy had.

“Like the earthbenders, they were tested on precision. They had to keep a feather floating between lasers. He started sneezing, ended up in the hoop, and the feather got fried.”

“Sneaky little thing,” Zuko muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

“What do you mean?” Sokka turned toward him.

“You didn’t see?” They all shook their heads. “Our little Toph’s been moving her left hand differently from her right this whole time.”

“She has not!” Suki leaned forward, clearly excited, to get a better look.

“She has. And very skillfully, too. Even Bolin didn’t notice.

Apparently, metal isn’t his strong suit, and he didn’t catch on.”

“What is she doing exactly?” Katara still didn’t get it. She looked at her brother, but he only raised his eyebrows and shrugged, signaling he didn’t know either.

“She’s shaping her own piece with one hand...”

“And using the other to make Bolin’s piece resist,” Suki finished for Zuko.

“You’re kidding. How the hell is she doing both at once?” Sokka was impressed.

“Could be related to my theory. Mythbrook, Summerfield... You know,” Suki replied lightly.

“I don’t know about you, but I see our title contender,” Aang added.

And true to his words, Toph was soon declared the winner.

Her metal piece depicted an intricate dandelion. It was flawless. Each filament perfectly straight. The kind of perfection only nature could achieve.

Her opponent’s work was far from that. The plant had bulges and sharp, uneven edges. It looked more like a thistle.

When the brunette returned to her seat, Katara whispered reproachfully:

“That was cheating.”

“That was a fight. Maybe not hand-to-hand, but still a fight.”

“That’s not what this is about—”

"Show me the rule that forbids it," Katara said nothing. "Thought so."

Toward evening, it was finally the firebenders' turn. Two narrow circles had been marked in the middle of the field—neither participant was allowed to step outside them. Just as the waterbenders had done earlier, now the firebenders lined up along the sidelines to prevent any uncontrolled spreading of flames. Zuko gave the girl a cocky grin, as if to say, Let’s see who’s better. Let’s see what they’ve come up with for us. The girl raised one corner of her mouth in response, accepting the challenge.

It turned out the firebenders stationed in front of the stands weren’t there just to supervise. They took turns launching jets of fire into the air that transformed mid-flight into flaming targets—each consisting of three concentric rings. Zuko fired instinctively, almost at the same time as Ayumi. Her flames were tinged with a greenish hue, like burning gas with a high copper content. The jets of fire hit the target simultaneously, but hers landed slightly closer to the center. The point went to her.

They exchanged looks and understood immediately: the faster and more accurate hit earned the point. Whoever scored more would win.

The targets began to appear more rapidly, but it was impossible to tell which bender would launch them or in what direction. The sequence felt completely random. Flames raged across the hall. No one wanted to lose. Everyone wanted to be first to strike. Soon it felt like an oven. At first, they traded points evenly. Zuko, sacrificing speed, tried to aim more precisely. With accuracy like this, every millimeter mattered—every second counted. His opponent didn’t seem to struggle at all. Only once did she miss the center of the ring.

They both looked a bit tired when the challenge ended. Ayumi crushed Zuko with a lead of over a dozen points. She turned to thank him for the match. The dark-haired boy bowed gallantly—deeply and somewhat mockingly, though not toward her, but as if they shared an inside joke. As if he had finally gotten rid of a tiresome obligation. As if, for him, the fun was just beginning. As if he were thanking her—for defeating him. For setting him free. From the tournament and the farce surrounding it.

For the first time, Katara saw a full smile on the girl’s lips. Ayumi curtseyed in the same theatrical manner. She got the joke. She sealed the pact.

Zuko stayed on the field a moment longer, talking with her. From that distance, Katara couldn’t hear what they were saying—just the girl’s clear, ringing laughter echoing through the hall.

Katara found herself disliking the white-haired girl even more. People always said Katara laughed too loudly. That girl embodied everything Katara wished to be. Beautiful, feminine, confident, talented. She did it all with irritating ease. She had to be the gods’ favorite. Katara was insanely jealous. She wanted to be her.

Zuko smiled at the girl one last time before finally walking toward his friends. But he didn’t stop when he reached them.

"See? Nothing scary about it. Quick beatdown, then back home." The boy was still smiling as he passed Katara on his way to the showers.

***

The girls had finished dinner early and decided to take a walk around campus. Two minutes later, Zuko followed in their footsteps. As soon as he left the dining hall, Sokka leaned over the table and clasped his hands.

“Should I let her win?” he asked seriously.

“What?” Aang had no idea what he was talking about.

“I’m fighting Suki the day after tomorrow. If you had to fight Toph, would you let her win?”

“What does Toph have to do with this?”

“Toph is your Suki.”

“No, she’s not.”

“Dude, you don’t have to pretend around me. So? You think I should let Suki win?”

“If you ever go easy on me, I swear I’ll break up with you,” came a cool voice from behind him.

He grimaced. He really didn’t want to, but he knew that if he didn’t turn around, it would only make things worse.

“Suki… I thought you went out for a walk.”

“I forgot my phone,” she said, leaning down to grab the device from the table. “Sokka, if you disrespect me again, even with the best intentions like just now, I swear I’ll kick your ass.”

“I promise I’ll give it everything I’ve got, babe,” he said with complete sincerity.

Sokka kept his promise. But even though he fought as hard as he could, he couldn’t beat Suki. He wasn’t sad about losing. He was so proud of her, there was hardly room for anything else.

***

That night, all the competitors slept like the dead. The challenges had exhausted them, and knowing they wouldn’t face any in the morning made for a deep, undisturbed sleep.

As usual, the guests sat down for breakfast at 8:30. At 9:15, they were to gather in the main hall before departing for the art gallery in Phoenix.

That morning, Katara ate breakfast with Aang, since they were the first ones up. Before bed, Aang had been dosed with a handful of medications. There was no sign of improvement, but he hadn’t gotten worse either. Aside from the occasional sneeze, he felt okay. On their way out of the cafeteria, he grabbed a tea to go.

A long hallway led from the dining area to the foyer. On their left stood a glass case with a seemingly endless row of trophies. Katara paused. Aang caught up to her.

“No pressure, right?” she said rhetorically.

The section they were passing was dedicated to the Coji Tournament. It was full of photos from decades past, framed cheaply. Surrounding them were masses of trophies, though Katara was sure these weren’t all the school had won.

“The last person from Mythbrook to win was Gyatso,” Aang said calmly.

“Headmaster Gyatso?”

“The very same. Dozens of years have passed, and no one in Mythbrook has come close to matching him.”

“Then what’s the point of going? It’s a waste of time.” Around the corner, they heard Toph complaining—she had also already eaten.

“Because none of the staff are staying behind just to supervise you. Also, we’ve already bought tickets. Including yours,” said Master Yu, appearing around the bend with her. “Katara, Aang, good to see you,” the teacher greeted them. “But I’d advise you to hurry, we’re leaving soon.”

After twelve hours to Gainesville, the hour-long ride to Phoenix felt like nothing. Some students still hadn’t fully woken up when they stepped off the bus. After a brief shuffle in the coatroom, they finally entered the gallery. There was plenty of freedom to explore the exhibits at their own pace. Teachers wandered among them, keeping a watchful eye to ensure no one caused trouble. They tended to hover near the pieces attracting the school’s biggest mischief-makers.

Katara decided it was the perfect moment to talk to Toph, who stood alone near the entrance.

“Toph…” she began uncertainly. She wasn’t sure if the girl would want to hear her out. “You were right... yesterday. You didn’t do anything wrong. I was, as usual, being dramatic. I’m sorry.”

Unlike the hesitant start, the final word was firm. She knew she owed her that apology.

The younger girl heard her approach much earlier.

“Oh, come on. I know you weren’t trying to be mean. I admire your love of rules. To me, they’re more like… guidelines,” she said truthfully but quickly, as if eager to move on. “But yeah, sometimes you do take them a bit too seriously.”

She had barely finished speaking when Zuko and Aang caught up with them. For a moment, the boys stared at the painting in front of them.

“Can you see anything?” Zuko asked, no longer prejudiced. “Like if someone laid the paint on thick?”

“That’s why I didn’t want to come here,” she sighed theatrically. “I can tell where the paintings are hung. How big they are. How thick the frames are. That’s it.”

“Well then listen, I think you’ll like this one. It was painted in 2005 by Zhang Linhai,” Aang said, approaching the wall to read the plaque. “I’d say it’s mostly realistic, but there’s a hint of surrealism. In the center, facing away from us, sits a child staring into a red canyon…”

He studied the painting closely, trying to describe it as precisely as possible. He didn’t notice that Toph wasn’t looking at the piece, but at him. She smiled softly, listening to his words about modern art. From then on, they viewed every painting together, with Aang doing his best not to miss a single detail.

They had made it through three rooms when they heard Suki’s voice from nearby.

“You know, I always thought life imitates art, but this is pushing it.”

Aang stepped up behind Sokka.

“Is it just me, or do those two look like Katara and Zuko?”

Unlike the surrounding canvases, this one was painted on a thin parchment-like sheet. It was one of the oldest works in the collection, done in an archaic style with East Asian influences. It depicted the moon goddess Chang’e and the fire god Zhurong, dressed in ancient Chinese robes. The woman floated upward toward the moon, her hands reaching down to cup the cheeks of the man below. He clung to her as if he’d never let go. There was something physical, even erotic in it—but also romantic. Intimate. A farewell, Katara thought sadly. According to legend, their child was the first avatar. Smoke billowed around them, and in a strange way, they looked strikingly like Katara and Zuko. Except for the scar.

“I don’t know…” the girl drew out the syllables, unsure. She squinted at the piece, trying to see the resemblance.

“You’ve got similar eyes, that’s for sure,” said Zuko, who was also staring at the painting.

“Hey boys, let’s take a picture with it,” said Katara. She’d gotten used to Toph calling everyone “boys.”

“That’s not funny,” she replied, but Suki and Sokka were already positioning themselves with their phones.

“Aang, you’re not bailing on us, are you?” Sokka motioned him over.

Aang joined them without hesitation. But as he passed Katara and Zuko, he at least had the decency to put on a sheepish face. They took a few photos, then walked on to the next room, chatting as they scrolled through the shots.

Katara and Zuko stayed behind, still looking at the painting. Eventually, Zuko headed toward the arched doorway. He paused for a moment behind the brunette.

“I want to do with you what spring does with cherry trees,” he said.

“I didn’t know you were a poet.”

“I’d love to take the credit, but that’s Pablo Neruda,” he replied, and strolled off after the others as if nothing had happened.

The ride back was unusually quiet. Everyone was busy posting photos on Instagram. Katara got a notification—Sokka had tagged her in a post. The picture showed her friends posed in front of the exhibit. The caption read: “With Katara and Zuko.”

With a scowl, she turned toward her brother—who was already grinning, waiting for it. She uncapped her flask and sent a stream of water straight into his face. Not wanting to make a mess, she drew the water back into her bottle without spilling a drop.

“No bending on the bus!” Master Pakku barked from the front.

Sometimes Katara swore the man could feel every molecule of water on Earth.

***

The next task was scheduled for eleven o’clock, right after Suki and Sokka’s fight. Everyone was supposed to start at the same time. Over breakfast, Katara and Toph speculated about what the challenge might be. Despite a thousand theories, none seemed more plausible than the others.

This time, the competition didn’t take place in the gymnasium but on the football field. When they arrived, a brisk wind was blowing and the stands were already mostly full. At the center of the field stood a mock-up of four adjoining rooms. Each was relatively large, roofed, with white-painted walls. A large screen, divided into four equal sections, showed the interiors, clearly outfitted with cameras for the audience’s benefit. Benches had been placed in front of each entrance, each topped with blankets and a pack of water bottles underneath. Moments before the scheduled time, one of the Summerfield High teachers gathered them at the doors.

“You’ll each face a simulated elemental attack in your assigned room. The two of you who handle it the fastest and finish first will move on to the final challenge. Is that clear?”

The four contestants nodded. But Katara wasn’t so sure. She wondered whether the room would confront her with her own element—or, worse, the one she struggled with most. Still, without a word, she took her place in front of the door marked for her.

“Good luck in the final, Toph,” Katara said before they disappeared behind their neighboring doors.

For a moment, she stood still, waiting. All outside sounds were muted. It was quiet. Too quiet. The atmosphere was tense and heavy. She wondered if the others felt the same. Suddenly, water began pouring in from all directions. The brunette exhaled in relief—at least it wasn’t fire. But her relief was short-lived. The gradual flow turned into a flood. The water rose higher and higher, growing more and more turbulent. Katara was terrified. Her hands began to shake. She had experienced this once before—back in Hawaii, when she’d fallen out of a boat and was swept away by monstrous waves. Now it was happening again, as each new wave dragged her under. She surfaced, coughing and gasping for air. She knew it was only a matter of seconds before the water would reach the ceiling.

She tried to swim up as close as possible. And sure enough, a minute later she took one last breath before vanishing beneath the surface. But she knew what to do. She formed a sphere around herself, pushing the water away. She drew in a deep, ragged breath. Now able to breathe, she considered her next move. She froze the water beneath her into a solid platform and sat on it. Time was of the essence. To hell with who finished first—she was more concerned with when the oxygen in her makeshift bubble would run out. Last time, her father and brother had pulled her out. This time, she was on her own. No one would grab her hand and pull her toward the surface. But even though she was alone, she had better odds. This time, she had training from Master Pakku.

She began rubbing her fingers, trying to warm them even a little. She had to control her movements completely. She closed her eyes to shield them. The familiar waterbending gestures were harder now as she tried to shield her head at the same time. She froze the surrounding water completely and, with one long, sharp movement, shattered the ice. She just prayed no shards would injure or blind her. She fell from a height of about two meters, scraping her hands and knees on the sharp edges. She pushed herself up, only driving them in deeper. She had almost no strength, but she staggered toward the door, tripping every few steps. She had to get out. She couldn’t stay in that room one second longer.

She collapsed onto the grass outside, landing flat on her stomach. She rolled onto her back. She felt the familiar breeze and the warm sun on her face. Not far off, Ayumi was already waiting for her. Later, Katara would learn that Ayumi’s room had erupted into a firestorm. A fire dragon had filled the space with flames. Ayumi had quickly converted the fire’s energy into lightning, redirected it, and shot it into the sky, blowing apart the ceiling—thin trails of smoke still rose from it.

She looked around but couldn’t see Toph anywhere.

“Congratulations, Enchantress!” Zuko was waiting by the sideline. But his tone changed quickly. “Are you okay?”

The girl didn’t answer. Her eyes were vacant, scanning the surroundings without focus.

“Katara, are you alright?” he repeated, stepping closer.

“Sokka…” Her breath was shallow, broken. “Where’s Sokka?”

“Somewhere up there…” he pointed toward the stands, but it was impossible to make out any individual faces.

“I want Sokka,” her voice cracked, small and trembling.

Zuko pulled out his phone and sent a quick message. Sokka arrived almost instantly.

“It’s okay now, Katara. You’re safe,” he whispered as he hugged her tightly. “You did it. You made it through again. You always do. You’re safe now. You did it.”

He repeated those words like a mantra.

Once he’d finally calmed his sister, she began healing the wounds on her hands. God knew that while she hadn’t mastered all combat techniques, Master Pakku had spent months refining her healing skills. She remained seated on the grass, trying to process what had just happened while she was trapped. Zaheer lay nearby, ice pressed to his forehead. A blast of wind had thrown him into a wall, knocking him out briefly. For his safety, he’d been pulled out and disqualified. Katara looked up at the screen. Toph was still inside. She was struggling with a sandstorm—she couldn’t see a thing. Not that it mattered. The storm in her room died out on its own. As soon as Katara stepped onto the field, the challenge was decided.

The short brunette left the room in silence. She walked to the nearest bench, grabbed a bottle from underneath, and drank greedily. Water streamed down her chin. Still drinking, she rejoined the others.

“Sand. Why the hell did it have to be sand? Why not an earthquake? I could’ve handled that no problem,” she muttered bitterly as everyone stood to leave the field.

“You know they did it on purpose. You were their biggest threat. No offense, Enchantress.”

“I know. I’m running on luck, not skill. But it seems Mythbrook just lost another shot at winning without Toph.”

“Don’t be so sure. You won, after all. I believe in you,” Zuko replied.

“Yeah, and it’s not like we came here expecting to win,” Toph added.

Zuko elbowed her lightly in the side. A moment later, he stopped mid-step.

“Hold up a second,” he said, walking over to the white-haired girl.

Katara rolled her eyes. Once again, she couldn’t hear what they were talking about—and it was driving her nuts.

“I have to admit, that lightning trick was impressive. I’ve never seen anything like it,” Zuko said. The girl smiled smugly. “Maybe you could teach me sometime?”

“If you ever make it into my school—who knows…” she replied evasively.

“Afraid I’m graduating in a month, so that ship’s sailed.”

“Yeah, big shame,” her tone said otherwise.

“If you change your mind… judging by your skills—and I don’t just mean bending—you’ll probably find a way to track me down.”

They exchanged a few more lines. As he walked away, the girl laughed again—bright and melodic. Katara knew Zuko could be charming when he wanted to be. But God, how she wished he didn’t want to be.

“I’m back,” he jogged over. “When’s that evening training?”

“Seven thirty,” Sokka answered.

“Assuming you can spare a moment for us,” Katara added sourly.

***

During dinner, Master Pakku stopped by their table.

“Tomorrow’s that idiotic dance in the gym, so we’re training tonight. I expect full attendance. No exceptions,” he said, leaving no room for argument.

At training, everyone did their best to help Katara, offering all their knowledge and skill. It was no secret that the final task would be a direct duel.

“Ayumi’s a firebender. They’re trained in a completely different combat style. If you get in close and switch to hand-to-hand, you’ve got a shot,” Suki offered.

“Yeah, and try to wear her out. If her breathing gets uneven, she’ll have less control over the element,” Zuko added between strikes.

For obvious reasons, Master Pakku asked him to stay behind afterward. He wanted Katara to use everything from the session in a sparring match with a firebender. When the teacher finally called it, she didn’t have the strength for even one more water whip. They stayed behind to stretch. Only the side lights were on. Katara was supposed to turn them off when leaving. So when Zuko stood, she headed toward the tech room.

“Teach me to dance,” she heard a voice behind her.

“What?” she turned around.

“The ball’s tomorrow night. Everyone’s supposed to do an English waltz—even the guests. I’m not about to make a fool of myself. Teach me.”

“I don’t know… You’re doing pretty well already,” she said, clearly amused.

“So you’re actually going through with it?” he asked. She crossed her arms.

“Yes. But just for fun at the after-party. Not with some formal routine.”

“And Ayumi couldn’t teach you because…?” There was a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Are you jealous?”

“So you do need me more than you admit,” she deflected.

“Forget it,” he turned away, pride wounded enough for one day.

“Alright, wait,” she grabbed his forearm to stop him. “But on one condition… You dance with me at the ball.”

They’d been told there was a party every year, but she hadn’t been in any rush to find a partner—she had bigger things to worry about. Now, it seemed too late. And Katara didn’t want to go alone.

“Who else would I dance with? Suki’s with Sokka. Toph’s with Aang. I figured it was obvious.”

“God… come on already,” she groaned. She hated when he got condescending.

They positioned themselves on the floor where they had enough space. She took his hand with one of hers, placed the other on his shoulder. He rested his on the small of her back.

“Frame,” she said, raising their elbows so they wouldn’t droop.

“You reek.”

“You don’t smell like roses either. You’re lucky Sokka and I took extra dance classes in fifth grade.”

He dropped his elbows again. She yanked them back up.

“Imagine someone stuck a stick through your sleeves and hung water jugs on either end, right by your elbows. You’ve got to hold them up.”

“You know, that might be the weirdest explanation I’ve ever heard.”

“Just keep the frame. There’s no real mystery to it. The English waltz is the easiest. Step back with your left foot, and I step forward with my right. Then you bring your right in, and I…”

“...step in with my left,” he finished uncertainly.

“Exactly. Now to the side. Smoothly. And bring your foot in. Good. Now just like before. I step back, then the other foot…”

“And I bring mine in,” he echoed, half-questioning.

She smiled softly. “Now to the side again. And we’re back where we started.”

“That’s pretty simple.”

“Yeah. Because we’re dancing in a square. Once you get that down, we’ll do it in a circle.”

Zuko was a quick learner, though the lesson wasn’t particularly hard.

“Stop looking at your feet, Zuko,” she said, trying to catch his gaze. “Look at me.”

She kept talking, trying to distract him so he wouldn’t overthink it or keep glancing down. The second part took him longer to learn, but he eventually got it.

“And now, the hardest part.”

“Which is?”

“You have to lead,” she pronounced like a death sentence.

“Really? I mean, I’m dancing with you anyway. Couldn’t you just…?”

“I can, but you still have to start —at least pretend you’re leading. Start with your right foot forward.”

“What was Sokka talking about? After the challenge?” he asked as they began.

“I don’t know what you mean. Step cleanly, don’t bring the foot in—just move to the side,” she corrected him again.

“You made it through again?” he pressed.

Over the past few months, Katara had gotten to know him a little. She knew he didn’t give up easily. And he had come to know her, too. The only person in the village she had confided in more deeply was Suki. Not even Aang knew about her mother. At least, not from her.

“When I was twelve, a wave knocked me off a boat and into the ocean. Another massive wave dragged me under. It wasn’t the first time I’d fought the elements. I haven’t gone back to open water since.”
She paused for a moment, as if waiting for him to judge her. When he didn’t, she added on her own,
“A waterbender afraid of the sea. How pathetic is that?”

“No more than a firebender afraid of flames,” he said, stopping briefly and letting go of her hand to gesture to his face.

Zuko hadn’t realized before how alike they were. Both had lost their mothers. Both had enormous expectations placed on them. Neither of them could seem to find their place. Not even in their own element.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispered.

The girl froze. His face was just inches from hers. His breath brushed against her lips.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Master Pakku roared, snapping the lights on. “She has training in the morning. She should be asleep by now!”

With a single swift move, Zuko swept her off her feet while also catching her fall. Even so, she landed on the floor with a dull thud.

“We just wanted to get a little more practice before the finals,” he lied smoothly.

“She could be overtrained. Pull something. You shouldn’t be practicing unsupervised.”

The man didn’t leave them alone for a second until he had escorted them both back to their temporary quarters.

Chapter Text

The next morning, chaos reigned in every dorm housing senior students—not just the one with the visiting group. People dashed through the hallways, pounding on doors to borrow jewelry and perfume. Someone was constantly knocking on Aang’s door, since he was one of the few boys who had thought to bring the latter. Dinner had been cancelled so that the opening dance of the ball could begin precisely at six. A special committee from Summerfield High was in charge of decorating the gym for the occasion. It was clear that despite a tight budget, they’d done their best. Red streamers hung from the ceiling. Along the walls stood tables piled with food, covered with tablecloths in a similar shade. Across from the entrance, a raised platform had been set up for the DJ. In one corner, as many chairs and small tables had been crammed in as possible.

For the occasion, Katara brought a simple sky-blue dress that fell to mid-calf. The Summerfield High girls wore far more elaborate gowns than the guests. They didn’t have to worry about whether the dresses would fit in a suitcase or if they’d wrinkle. Giya, a senior, had the foresight to bring an iron. A line formed outside her room that spanned nearly a floor and a half. Some, seeing the queue’s length, turned back and tried improvising with hair straighteners. By the evening, a crowd of students spilled out of the dorm, heading toward the gym. Zuko was waiting outside, finishing the end of a cigarette while keeping an eye out for any approaching teachers. Sokka and Suki were the first to leave the building. They walked up to him under a tree. Zuko flicked the cigarette butt into the trash.

“Where’s the rest?” he asked.

“They were right behind us,” Sokka replied.

Both wore black suits, though the brunette had added a thin tie. Zuko was nearly certain Suki had made him wear it. Moments later, Toph and Aang came through the door, deep in conversation and entirely unaware of their presence.

“You reek of smoke.” Suki handed Zuko a mint and quickly pulled a perfume bottle from her purse, spraying him directly in the face. “Much better. See you on the dance floor!”

She fled before he could hurl any curses after her. Her olive dress billowed chaotically behind her as she ran.

“Sometimes I really admire you, man,” Zuko said to Sokka.

“I love her. What can I do?” he shrugged, following after his girlfriend.

By then, Katara had stepped outside. She tapped the boy on the shoulder from behind.

“Ready?” she asked when he turned.

He gave her a quick once-over.

“I wanted to say something snide, like God, you finally washed, or You don’t look half-dead today. But damn, Katara, you actually look beautiful.”

“Thanks. You don’t look half-dead today either.”

They fell into easy conversation as they followed after their friends. Not ten minutes after their arrival, a petite blonde in a pink tulle dress climbed onto the podium and tapped the microphone to get everyone’s attention. She was clearly the head of the committee.

“Please find your partners and line up in pairs around the dance floor. Yes... Perfect,” she continued speaking as everyone moved into position. “Let’s hurry. Yes, yes... I know you don’t want to do this, Mako, but the sooner we start, the sooner we can move on to the part of the night you’re all actually looking forward to.”

Katara had the distinct impression that the girl was something of a mother to her class. She made sure everything ran smoothly. Every cog was oiled by her hand. Thanks to her, the start was only slightly delayed.

“Think you’ll be alright tomorrow?” Zuko asked after the first few steps.

“Don’t worry about tomorrow, Zuko. Today is already more than enough.”

“Well, look who’s changed,” he teased.

“Relax. I’ll be panicking again tomorrow. But tonight, I’m going to have fun.”

Nearby, two couples collided. Apparently not everyone had practiced the routine diligently. Katara began to appreciate how quickly Zuko had picked up the steps. She didn’t think it was shameful, exactly, but she would’ve wanted to disappear if it had been her. She always stressed over the tiniest things. She felt eyes on her even when no one was looking. She had the sudden urge to praise Zuko—to let him know how well he was doing. Even if she was the one leading.

“Look at you go. You’re nearly a pro. Nearly, ” she emphasized.

“I had a decent teacher,” he said casually.

“Yeah? My back still hurts, by the way.”

“Oh really?”

“Oh really?” she echoed, confused.

“Can I kiss you now, or is it still too soon?” She knew him well enough to catch when he was joking. Still, she really wished he weren’t.

“I’m afraid it’s still too soon,” she said cheerfully, shaking her head and scrunching her nose.

“Could’ve been like a scene from a rom-com—your loss,” his playful tone made it clear he was trying to keep things light.

“Oh, I’m missing so much,” she laughed.

He leaned in, stopping just millimeters from her lips. She wasn’t laughing anymore.

“You have no idea,” he said softly. She could see the flecks of amber in his eyes. She swallowed. Her gaze dropped to his lips. Her mind wandered to strange places. “Zuko.”

“What?” he asked, confused. She looked back up into his eyes, returning to reality.

“I’m the reason you’re feeling this way,” he said. “When you can’t hold it in anymore, remember which name is supposed to leave your lips.”

She tried to pull away, but he gripped her hand tighter and steadied her at the small of her back. He didn’t miss a single beat of the dance, every step flawless. In that one second, he had taken the lead.

“Frame,” he chided mockingly.

“You’re such an asshole.”

“Yes. Yes, I am,” he agreed with a grin.

“I hate you.”

“Do you, though?” He raised an eyebrow.

Katara nodded vehemently but couldn’t stay mad at him for long. She tried anyway—for appearances. They both knew the truth.

When the official dance ended, the playlist switched to much livelier, modern music. Dozens of students stayed on the floor. Some went to grab seats, others queued for punch or snacks. Their group decided the girls would grab seats, Sokka would find something to munch on, and Zuko and Aang would get drinks. They spent the start of the party sitting, eating, joking, and shouting over the music and each other. With no more chairs, Suki sat on Sokka’s lap. Zuko sprawled lazily, reminiscing about their last trip to the city pool. He’d draped his left arm over the back of Katara’s chair as she leaned in to whisper something to Toph.

He realized he’d never felt like this before. They were a strange group, sure. But they had each other’s backs. Zuko understood this must be what it feels like to have real friends. He didn’t have to be the best, the bravest, the snarkiest, or the funniest version of himself. He could just be . He saw how exhausting it had been to constantly operate in high gear—always saying the right thing, doing the right thing, trying to fit in, belong somewhere.

This was different. Comfortable. The kind of fun where you don’t have to perform, just sit back and talk until morning. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t be bolder than Suki, sassier than Toph, or funnier than Sokka.

And Katara... Well, he’d been thinking about her for a while. She was full of contradictions. Sometimes sharp as a razor. Sometimes as childish as a silly teenager. Sometimes effortlessly funny. Then suddenly stiff and serious. One minute she pulled him in, the next she pushed him away. He got mixed signals. Felt mixed emotions. She wasn’t always easy to be around. Actually, she usually wasn’t. Still, he didn’t regret that she was his friend.

Not long after, the girls decided they wanted to dance—and when none of the guys joined, they left them and hit the floor. After a few songs, they all agreed it was time for a drink. Each took a glass and headed back to the table.

It was empty.

“Weird.”

“Toph?” Suki didn’t need to clarify. The brunette knew what she was asking.

“Three bodies hiding behind the bleachers. Can’t say for sure, but that’d be my guess.”

“Lead the way.”

The three of them circled around the bleachers they’d been sitting on earlier, waiting for their performance.

“Are you drinking alcohol?” Katara asked, scandalized the moment they found them.

Zuko was leaning against the wall, legs stretched out. Next to him sat Sokka, holding a glass balanced on his bent knee. Between them stood a bottle of cheap booze. Aang was sitting cross-legged across from them.

“How else do you think I danced so smoothly?” Zuko replied with a smirk.

“What’s the harm?” added Sokka. To Katara’s shock, he offered her the glass.

“I’ll pass. I need to be ready for tomorrow. I feel like I’m going to puke from the pressure,” she said, sitting down beside them.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Zuko muttered.

“Have I mentioned you’re a jerk?”

“You adore me and we both know it.”

“And are those things mutually exclusive?”

“Like an old married couple,” Aang whispered to Toph.

“You realize you’re not getting out of dancing now, right?” Suki turned to her boyfriend.

“Lead the way, Princess,” he said, offering her his hand.

“And you?” Aang asked Toph. “Care to dance?”

“Took you long enough,” she replied, and off they went.

“Forget it, witch,” Zuko said to Katara, finishing the last sip in his glass.

“I wasn’t even thinking about it!” she huffed.

“You were. You dreamed of it. Same difference,” he tossed over his shoulder, heading back to their table.

Katara had had enough of his arrogance. She wanted to cool his fire. Knock the confidence down a peg. She stepped behind his chair. The music was so loud he didn’t hear her approach.

“Zuko...” she whispered in his ear, lips close enough that only he could hear, and moaned—obscenely.

His jaw clenched. She moved to his other ear.

“What? Not good enough? How about... Zuko...” This time, it was a breathy gasp.

“Don’t play with me, witch,” he warned as she stepped in front of him.

His jaw still tensed. His stare had sharpened, focused.

“You started it.”

“No. I’ll finish it.”

She stepped back. For the first time, Katara saw more than just a surface resemblance between Azula and Zuko. Jet-black hair. Keen eyes. Chiseled cheekbones. You could always tell they were siblings. But now...

“Don’t be afraid,” he said quickly, seeing her unconsciously step back. “I won’t hurt you.”

“I know.”

Still, she seemed spooked. So Zuko stood and walked toward her slowly, arms out in front of him, like approaching a skittish animal.

“You know I’d never hurt you,” he repeated, brushing her cheek.

He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. He was trying to radiate calm. With every fiber of his being, he wanted to reassure her he meant it.

“Stop. People are already talking. After the dance and everything—” she’d overheard a few snippets. “Apparently Mai wants to tear me apart because you left her mid-dance to play hero for me. Made her look like an idiot.”

“No one likes being the second choice.”

“No one deserves to be,” she said firmly. Then, more softly, “Is that what you meant when you said you took me home?”

He nodded.

“What a nightmare,” she groaned, hiding her face in her hands.

“Come on, you only puked on me once—” Katara threw up her hands, eyes wide in horror. “I’m kidding.”

***

“Do you see them?” Aang didn’t stop dancing as he spoke to Toph.

“Am I blind?”

“Do you think they’re together?”

“I think they’re making pathetic moves on each other and pretending they’re not.”

***

For Katara, the evening ended early. She wanted to make sure she was well-rested before the final task. Zuko discreetly—though hastily—emptied his last glass, then grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair to walk her to her room. He raised a hand to the boys in farewell. Despite the late hour, the night wasn’t cold. The concrete was still releasing the warmth it had absorbed during the day. The air was dry. They walked in silence, both of them tired. Katara had lost count of how many times she’d danced with Sokka. Zuko had lost count of how many glasses he’d really had.

They stopped in front of her room. There was something awkward about the moment. Just like that time he’d walked her home from the city pool. Katara felt a strong sense of déjà vu. The kind that begged for a casual “well, this is me” with a thumb pointed at the door. But she didn’t even get the chance to start. Zuko beat her to it by the span of a heartbeat. Drunken words spilled from his lips in a messy torrent.

“I didn’t want another pretty face. I wanted soul. Personality. But God, Katara, you’re so damn beautiful.”

“You’ve had one too many,” she tried to laugh it off. She didn’t like where he was taking the conversation.

“These past months I’ve been pushing myself to the limit. Hell, past it. And still, at the end of the day, I couldn’t do anything. And at some point, I didn’t remember anything except your face. Your hair. Your name, or your smile. The cigarette would burn my fingers because I’d forget I even lit it.”

“You’re drunk, you don’t mean this,” she whispered, more to convince herself than him.

“I’ve never been this honest with you,” he replied, leaning in slightly. Awkwardly.

“You should go to sleep,” she said before slipping inside.

Katara shut the door behind her. That was when it hit her—she liked Zuko. That it would be so easy to fall for him, if she let herself. That she was already a step away from infatuation. She needed distance. Ever since Zuko came back, she’d heard a thousand stories about his flings. She couldn’t be just another name on the list. She should’ve stayed away altogether. And yet she was the one who had let him stay close these past six months, slowly, almost imperceptibly, drawing nearer. She had no one to blame but herself. With a sigh of frustration, she let the back of her head fall against the door, silently cursing her own stupidity.

***

Katara wrestled with her thoughts for half the night. She stared at the planks above her. Then turned to glance at the girl sleeping beside her—snoring, as always. She didn’t trust Toph enough. Not really. Especially since Toph was more Zuko’s friend than hers. So, in the lull between breakfast and the final task, she left the building, dragging Suki along with her. They sat under the same tree where they'd talked after the tournament had started. Katara parted her lips but said nothing. She inhaled deeply and let the air out through her teeth with a slow hiss.

“I think I might have a crush on Zuko,” she said. Suki’s mouth fell open. “And please, spare me the dumb comments. This is new for me. And I really don’t want it,” she added warningly, with a note of anger—though it wasn’t aimed at Suki.

“Seriously?”

Katara told her everything that had happened the night before.

“I don’t know. I’d say he’s being charming just to land another girl. But the last few months... he wasn’t even trying to impress me. He just did what I asked. He taught me. That’s it. So what changed?”

“Did you ever think maybe he was telling the truth? Maybe he actually started to care? I mean, you two spent a lot of time together. Got to know each other, and all that.”

“I know his type, Suki,” she shook her head, bitter memories flooding in. “I’ve been through this before. Back home, in Hawaii. I’m not falling for it again.”

There was one reason Katara had been glad to move away—distance made it easier to heal a broken heart. Especially when the other person had made a joke out of your feelings. To this day, she couldn’t say his name. Every time she thought she finally could, that she’d moved on, it felt like barbed wire wrapping tight around her throat.

“What if he’s not trying to fool you?”

“Aang is a sweet guy. We’re good friends,” she replied instead. “We could make it work if we gave it another shot.”

“Aang’s heart is already somewhere else. So is yours—and you know that.”

“I don’t want this, Suki,” Katara was on the verge of tears. “I can’t fall for someone again. I won’t survive another heartbreak.”

“Come here,” Suki pulled her into a tight hug. “It’ll be okay. You’ll see. Everything’s going to be alright.”

She kept repeating it, gently stroking Katara’s hair.

***

The final began promptly at two o’clock. Whether Katara was ready or not. No one cared about her emotional turmoil. She walked to the gymnasium as if in a fog, the world around her barely registering. Except for one thing.

“Good luck, sorceress.”

Zuko had acted like nothing had happened all morning. Maybe a little awkward, but as if last night’s confession had never taken place. Katara had no way of knowing that words had never come easily to Zuko—at least not when it came to feelings. Not when he was sober. But now wasn’t the time to dwell on it. She passed by him without a word, focusing her thoughts. She stepped into the center of the court. Her opponent was already waiting.

Ayumi reminded her of Yue. The white hair, the slender build. Grace in every movement. But that’s where the similarities ended. Ayumi had sharp edges. No softness in her gaze. She was all precision and drive. Katara thought, this is what Azula would look like trapped in Yue’s body.

The beginning of the fight mirrored that of their siblings. Just like Sokka with Asami, Katara had more luck than skill. She managed to get in close—just like Suki had coached her. She kept her guard up, the way Zuko had taught her. She struck with the move she had practiced over and over with Sokka. And she carried with her Toph’s unwavering confidence. Every moment of preparation had led her here. She knew she could do this. Her target was only a few inches away. Too little space, too little time for firebending.

But then something happened that Katara never saw coming.

The white-haired girl used airbending, blasting Katara clear across the court. Her skin burned where it scraped against the gym floor, but that wasn’t what worried her. She had only gotten close the first time by sheer chance. There wouldn’t be another opening. Hand-to-hand combat was no longer an option.

“You’re the Avatar?!” Katara shouted, even though the question was pointless. Of course she was. Katara had never met an Avatar before.

Ayumi just smiled and shrugged. Then she advanced. She didn’t need to hide her skills anymore. But Katara wasn’t going to give up so easily. Not after all that training—dammit, no. She unleashed stream after stream of water, countering more and more inventive attacks. It felt like she was fighting four people at once. She had stopped trying to win a long time ago, but by God, she wasn’t going to lose. Not without a fight.

And still, minutes later, she was sprawled across the floor.

Katara was too deep in the moment to notice Azula stepping down from the bleachers, walking straight up to Principal Tarrlok. She couldn’t hear their conversation.

“...Money isn’t enough. We value talent. If we’re going to offer a place to someone, it should be the tournament winner…”

She couldn’t have known why Azula suddenly stormed onto the court and shoved Ayumi aside.

“What the hell are you doing?!” the white-haired girl snapped, stumbling back.

“I’ve dreamed of getting into this school my whole life. I trained relentlessly, I studied every day, and then you show up... you…”

Azula was livid—humiliated. Sparks lit her hands, blue flames tightening into electric strands snapping between her fingers. She took her stance.

And then everything happened all at once.

Too fast.

Azula released a lightning bolt from her hand.

Katara had no idea how to stop it. This wasn’t fire. She just stared as it flew toward her—like watching slow motion.

“Azula, no!” Zuko shouted, sprinting in front of her.

He got there in a second. But even if he’d wanted to, even if he’d known how, he didn’t have time to redirect the strike. The lightning tore through his chest, splitting into two tendrils. He collapsed.

“Why did you do that?” Katara dropped to her knees beside him.

Her hands trembled, but her movements were fast and precise. She opened the flask of spring water, her body moving on instinct. Weeks of practice with Master Pakku, all those drills on that cursed dummy. She pushed the water into his bloodstream. She had to find the energy center.

“You like me better when you need me,” he said, forcing the words out. “And I need you more than I should… So tell me—what happens at the end?”

“This isn’t the end, Zuko, you hear me? This is not the end!”

But he was already slipping into darkness, the last thing he heard was her voice repeating, over and over, This isn’t the end. This isn’t the end. This isn’t the end. Like a broken record stuck in a loop.

***

Once the situation had calmed, with Zuko still unconscious but stable, Principal Tarrlok approached Katara.

“Your duel wasn’t exactly impressive,” he said. “But your healing abilities are fascinating. What would you say to starting at our school next semester? Every medical program in the country would welcome you after that.”

Katara froze. The school offered incredible opportunities. She could already picture the future waiting for her after graduation—a secure, promising life. Behind the principal, Master Pakku stood, still monitoring Zuko. He had taught her everything. She refocused, looking at Tarrlok.

Then she realized what had always felt off about his smile.

It never reached his eyes.

“Thank you, sir. But my school taught me everything I needed to know.”

She turned and walked toward Master Pakku to ask about Zuko’s condition—but he spoke first.

“You showed remarkable loyalty, Katara. Out of respect for Avatar Coji, we always accepted the invitation here—but we know this school only uses it to poach the best students. And they’ve done it well, until now.”

It was the first time Master Pakku had ever smiled at her—truly smiled. With respect.

Katara hadn’t known it was possible to feel such pride, or peace, simply by finally earning it.

***

Katara had been excited when she first traveled to Summerfield High.

But she had never felt such relief as she did getting on the bus that would take her away from it.

Zuko was already in his seat. He nodded for her to sit beside him.

“Who won?” he asked as she sat down.

Zuko had been afraid to ask. He didn’t want to know if his sister had ruined their shot at victory. So long as he didn’t ask, the truth couldn’t become real. And besides, he’d wanted to hear it from Katara. It was her story too. He owed her that much.

“No one,” she said with a shrug.

“What do you mean, no one?”

“After Azula’s meltdown, no one had the energy for more duels.” She saw him open his mouth and added quickly, “But it’s for the best. I was getting beaten up out there. I didn’t stand a chance, Zuko—and deep down, you know that too. Honestly, Azula saved us from the embarrassment of losing. Now we can pretend it was a draw, that the match never finished. When in reality, I was one blow away from defeat. It’s almost... comforting.”

Zuko didn’t say anything.

“What about Azula?” she asked, resting her head on his shoulder.

“She got suspended,” he said, just as the bus pulled away.

Chapter Text

After their return, rumors about what had happened at Summerfield High were buzzing.

Echoes of this story reverberated through the hallways, permeated conversations in the cafeteria, and drew curious glances wherever even one person from their group appeared.

A month later, when the long-awaited vacation officially began, Suki prepared a surprise for them.

As usual, she couldn't just tell them about it – that wasn't her style.

Instead, she dragged them with her through the night, across half the town, smiling mysteriously and ignoring all questions.

Katara wouldn't say that the path they were taking was entirely unfamiliar to her.

Quite the contrary – she was almost certain she had walked it before, although at that time her thoughts were elsewhere and she wasn't paying attention to details.

This time, however, she knew what to expect, and with every step she felt the tension within her growing.

"What are we doing here?"

She asked when they stopped in front of a rusted fence.

She wondered how she and her brother hadn't noticed the gap in the fence the first time.

It was relatively large, and no bushes obscured it. They passed through it in single file.

"We're closing the winter season," Suki replied with simplicity, but a hint of excitement sounded in her voice, as if this night was meant to be more than just a regular gathering.

"Everyone celebrates the start of the holidays. Why did you think it would be any different with us?" Zuko added.

"A tournament is being organized where we fight for the title of Mythbrook champion," Yue clarified.

A sizeable group of teenagers had already gathered on the grounds of the old swimming pool.

Azula strolled among them with grace and self-assurance, like a general reviewing her troops.

In her hand, she held a wooden clipboard, on which she checked something after some conversations.

Mai and Ty Lee, faithful as ever, followed her closely, like two shadows that never left her side.

"And you? Do you want to fight for the champion title?" It was clear the girl asked them somewhat reluctantly.

But there were rules that even Azula respected.

Especially since after her suspension, she had plenty of free time, which she dedicated entirely to coordinating the tournament.

"After Summerfield, my pride suffered too much. I think I'll pass," Sokka replied.

"I haven't missed any championships. You know the answer," Suki added.

"Me too," Zuko supported her.

Since Summerfield, he had treated his sister with a little more reserve – as if that experience had opened his eyes to something he hadn't wanted to see before.

"I'm out," Aang, as usual, did not participate in fighting.

"The rules are silly anyway." Katara was surprised that Toph refused. She was always the first to rush into a fight.

She was one of the most powerful benders in the area. And by no means a lesser warrior.

Now she was the first to sit on the edge of the pool, uninterested.

Katara pondered for a moment.

She thought about the preparations, the training sessions, every hour spent honing her skills for the Coji tournament, thanks to which she was in the best shape of her life.

This tournament bolstered her self-confidence. She knew she could win. Besides, it was just for fun.

"My power is stronger than ever," she also spoke up. "I'm in."

Mai and Azula exchanged knowing glances.

With vengeful amusement. Something was wrong.

"Katara! No!" Zuko said a little too loudly, too nervously, and several heads turned their way.

"Too late, Zuzu. Registration is closed," Azula said, making a decisive, aggressive final period. "Ty Lee, do the honors of the house."

The girl approached Zuko first. She struck him in two points above each shoulder. Then she did the same to Katara.

"What is it?!" The girl cried out indignantly.

"She blocked your chakras," Yue said.

"During the fight for the champion title, we don't use powers," Zuko explained with a slight sigh. "We all fight under the same rules. Benders and fighters."

"I said these rules are stupid," Toph muttered, crossing her arms.

"It seems quite unfair to me, you know, since the warriors have more practice," Yue added.

"Benders don't have it in mandatory classes at all."

Everyone sat down near her. Azula stood at the bottom of the pool. She didn't let go of the wooden clipboard.

"Only sixteen people decided to compete for the champion title," she began in a booming voice. "A bit of a shame, gentlemen. Especially since most of the applicants are ladies."

She was answered by cheers and whistles from the female part of the assembly, who reacted with enthusiasm, clearly proud of how the proportions had changed in the tournament's history.

"Classically," she continued, "we have divided you into two groups. In group A, Suki, Yue, Haru, Zuko, On Ji, Malu, Chan, and Ty Lee will face each other. In group B, Mai, Jo Dee, Jet, Jin, Ming, Ruon-Jian, Ta Min, and Katara will fight." She almost spat the last name out with disgust.

At first, everything went quickly. Several less experienced contestants dropped out almost immediately - Haru couldn't hold on for even three minutes against Suki, Jin got hit fighting Jet, and Yue disappeared from the arena before Zuko even broke a sweat. Ming succumbed to Katara after a short but fierce exchange, and Jo Dee was dominated by Mai.

Later, surprisingly, the fighting became more balanced. Azula called out the next pairs.

Apparently, she agreed with Toph that without power, fighting was pointless.

Or perhaps without her own power, Azula had no chance at all? She was making empty threats.

Apparently, she had no problem with it anyway, being able to boss everyone around.

Soon, only a handful remained.

The duel between Suki and Ty Lee was much more impressive. Ty Lee fought with a grace Katara had never seen.

Her friend, however, remained unyielding. After all, she knew this dance like an old acquaintance.

Suki had already started sweating profusely when she was finally declared the victor.

"Jet! Katara!"

Azula shouted, marking more and more things on the clipboard. Zuko grabbed the standing girl's hand.

He had seen Jet in action many times, and he didn't like it at all. Katara looked at him with an inquiring gaze.

"You know you don't have to prove anything to anyone..."

"Apparently, I have to prove it to you. I can't believe you still don't believe in me, even though you taught me yourself. You know what I can do!"

His gaze softened, he let go of her hand, yet he was ready to step into the ring at any moment.

When Katara jumped down to the bottom of the pool, the boy was already waiting for her. He was lazily chewing on a blade of grass.

He sized her up with one of his characteristic stares. The cheeky-challenging kind, and somewhere behind her, Katara heard the snap of a broken pencil.

Azula was not an only child. However, she couldn't stand it when someone took the attention due to her. Especially when it was Katara.

It didn't matter that the promise of violence and cruelty hid behind Jet's gaze. There was a hint of interest in it.

And that was one hint too many.

The girl wondered what would be the best way to take the boy down. She knew she would need the element of surprise.

The physique of her opponents almost always required the element of surprise from her.

Even if their bodies were lanky or stocky and worked against them.

However, none of these words described Jet.

He was tall but muscular. Strong, seasoned by years of training. Nevertheless, he wasn't who Katara feared the most.

But she couldn't think about the next fight. Not yet. Otherwise, she would lose the current one.

The brunette exhaled out the side of his mouth, blowing out the blade of grass. It was the only warning before the boy lunged at her in one fluid motion.

Everything happened so quickly that it was impossible to tell who landed the first blow.

But the moment it landed, it triggered an avalanche of subsequent blows, cascading equally upon both of them.

After her skirmish with Ayumi, Jet's abilities had diminished in her eyes.

Of course, she didn't diminish his technique or deny him determination, but they couldn't compare to the raw talent of the white-haired girl and the dread she subconsciously carried with her.

With larger rivals, fighting usually meant one thing - taking the opponent to the ground.

It was good, then, that she had been practicing with a boy of Jet's build almost all autumn, winter, and spring.

Muscle memory would work for her. Like a nursery rhyme you repeat years later, even though you haven't heard it in ages.

Two words are enough for the rest to recite itself. In one moment, the boy pressed against her with momentum, in the next second she was sitting on his chest, holding his overly long hair in her right fist.

"Give up or I'll smash your head," she hissed.

"You wish," he almost spat the words.

She clenched her fingers tighter on his hair then swung her arm upwards.

 "Alright! Alright..." he yelled quickly. "I give up. Calm down."

Jet may have been reckless. He may not have given up easily.

But he wasn't going to risk a head injury over such a trivial matter. A smashed skull is not a broken arm. It wasn't worth it.

Everyone looked at her dumbfounded, having no idea what had just happened.

Only Zuko smiled with pride.

"Satisfied?"

The girl's face remained calm as she sat next to him, but she felt self-satisfaction.

"You still need to work on your technique for showing gratitude, but you're welcome," he replied, not stopping his smiling.

In response, he got an elbow to the side.

While Katara was arguing with the brunette, the next duel began.

The atmosphere was different now. Heavier. Steps were more confident, blows were delivered faster and more precisely.

And next at the bottom of the pool were Zuko and Suki. The girl moved first - fast, low, almost silent.

Zuko countered with precise, strong strikes. They differed in everything - style, tempo, way of thinking - but that was precisely what made their fight look like a clash of two elements.

Despite all their differences, the duel seemed even and did not end, despite the blood flowing in thick streams, mixing with the sand blown onto the pool bottom.

Apart from the autumn fight with Katara and a few lucky people from Summerfield, no one had seen Zuko fight since his return.

The girls sitting on the edge of the empty pool watched as if hypnotized as he delivered precise kicks one after another, not slowing down for a moment.

He looked like an efficient, programmed machine. Suki was a good opponent - fast, clever, determined - but Zuko, at that moment, looked as if he had grown beyond his own limitations.

Every move he made was balanced, strong, and dangerously calm. Loud foot strikes against the concrete mixed with rhythmic breathing.

Katara snorted in disgust when one of the girls whispered feverishly to her friend about how the black, sweaty t-shirt clung to his chest, emphasizing his muscles.

However, she couldn't deny that the sight of Zuko in action was something else.

Although she was never afraid during practice, she now began to feel anxiety, knowing that she might not be able to defeat him.

He knew her every move and blow, he had personally taught her everything, he knew her style because it was a reflection of his own.

She still had one more fight ahead of her, but she was sure she would be facing the boy.

Unless Suki knocked him out first.

She turned her head, hearing Sokka's question.

"His style is strangely familiar, don't you think?"

"You must be imagining it. Maybe you saw it on TV," she replied quickly, as if she wanted to cut the subject short.

The boy twisted his lips, as if agreeing with her, then fell silent, continuing to watch the skirmish.

Suki pulled out her fan - thin, folding, but dangerous in the right hands.

Although benders were stripped of their powers, one could fight with a weapon. What an unfortunate coincidence that most benders didn't know how to wield weapons.

She entered a rhythm that no one but Sokka understood so well.

The fan cut through the air with a sharp whistle, and her feet moved as if on an invisible grid.

Zuko responded with cool precision.

"Right kick!" Sokka shouted behind his back, perfectly predicting his girlfriend's next move.

Thanks to this, after more than ten long minutes, the decisive blow landed, knocking Suki to the ground.

"You, Brutus," she only managed to gasp before falling onto the concrete.

The crowd howled.

Some cheered with delight, some booed in protest - but everyone felt that one of the best duels of the evening had just ended.

The sky over the pool was slowly coloring a deep, orange-rusty hue when it became clear that Zuko would fight in the final.

After a moment, he sat down heavily on the concrete next to Sokka. His hair was stuck to his neck, and his breathing was still ragged, but his face showed satisfaction.

"Thanks, man," he said, catching his breath.

"No problem. I had to get back at her, after Summerfield."

In the meantime, the pool area began to be shrouded in darkness. Although everything could still be easily seen, Azula, with her typical theatricality, lit fires in three barrels placed around the square.

The flames hissed and flared with a sharp, blue light, dancing in the light breeze, before taking on a more natural shade.

"Mai! Katara!" 

"Wish me luck." She said, passing the boy getting off the ring.

"I already know I don't have to," he replied with a half-smile. He believed in her, although anxiety still lingered in his eyes.

They entered the arena without taking their eyes off each other.

Their gazes crossed like blades - sharp, focused, and without an ounce of hesitation.

A strange silence fell around them, in which only the crackling flames from the barrels and scattered shouts from the fans could be heard.

Audacity mixed with determination could be felt. Although it was hand-to-hand combat, they circled each other for a long moment, trying to assess their opponent.

The brunette tilted her head, raising her hands to her head height. It was Mai, although usually she seemed more composed, who rushed forward first, almost wildly, with a surprising ferocity no one expected from her.

Fists whistled through the air, but Katara was ready. She deflected consecutive blows, ducked, and jumped back.

She possessed the softness of water that no one could imitate so well.

For a moment, they seemed perfectly matched.

And then that second came. A barely noticeable gap, a moment of inattention that meant everything in a fight.

Mai's fist connected with Katara's cheek, her head hit the bottom of the pool, echoing a dull thud, and everyone held their breath.

Time stopped for a moment. Zuko began to rise from his seat with a fury written on his face that hadn't been seen in a long time.

But Aang grabbed his forearm and pulled him down, shaking his head.

"Exactly, don't embarrass yourself," Sokka added, even though he was grimacing himself.

Katara propped herself up on her elbow and slowly got up, feeling a burning throb in her cheek and the base of her skull.

Mai stood a few steps away, straightened, with a shadow of self-satisfaction on her lips.

"You didn't think I'd let you off, princess, did you?" she hissed with a smile.

Katara responded with the same cold smile that drove Mai so mad.

"That's exactly what I was counting on."

The brunette darted forward, delivering a series of punches and kicks, but the girl either blocked them or they didn't make much of an impression on her.

And then the decisive blow landed.

Katara spun on her leg, performing a semi-circular hip movement, and hit her in the side with such force that Mai collapsed to the ground like a felled tree.

"I know that style! I know that style!" Sokka burst out, pointing at his sister and then at the boy sitting next to him.

The latter paid him no mind, gazing intently at the epicenter. His hands were white from clenching.

Katara knew there was only one way she could win.

In a split second, they went to the ground, body to body, the fight became more brutal, devoid of elegance and theatrical gestures.

Mai spat out blood. But instead of moving toward her, as expected, she drew a small knife from her sleeve and threw it in her direction.

It missed by a millimeter. More blades shot out from under her cuffs directly into Katara's awaiting hands.

"Did you take your mother's whole kitchen?" Sokka yelled, trying to ease the tension, but his voice was trembling.

Katara froze - she was within arm's reach, literally a second away from taking control. But Mai was faster.

She jumped onto her back with the grace of a predator, wrapping her legs around her and crossing her arms so that the blades on both sides of Katara's neck were exactly where they should be.

"Mai. Don’t," Zuko's voice carried across the entire pool. Strong. Sharp as the knives in her hands.

She raised her head, looking straight into his eyes.

Normally, that was all she wanted. His attention. His interest.

Normally, she would have listened, as always.

She would have done anything to maintain his interest. But nothing had been normal for a long time.

And his attention was not directed at her. It was merely a ricochet of feelings he could no longer hide.

"You broke me first."

Mai was clinical. Precise. Composed. The only thing capable of distracting her was Zuko.

And Katara did not hesitate to exploit that second of distraction.

With all the strength she had, she swung backward and headbutted Mai.

A wave of blood spurted, intense, dark, running down the brunette's face, suggesting she might have broken her nose.

The knives fell from her hands and slid across the sand.

Katara spun around instantly and pressed her foot to Mai's trachea.

Cold, blue eyes were reflected in the firelight, and the silence that fell was heavier than the crowd's previous screams.

Now no one was laughing. Now no one was commenting.

This was no longer just a fight for the title.

This was a fight for something much more personal.

"We already know who will face Zuko in the fight for the champion title," Azula's voice interrupted the entire scene.

As if she wanted to spare her friend the shame of defeat. "You didn't hear it from me, but Haru over there, in the corner... is taking bets. We'll give them five minutes to rest, and by the time they return, Haru will be gone. Choose wisely."

Not ten seconds passed before a screaming cluster of people gathered around the boy.

Someone was already waving banknotes, another was frantically whispering the names of their favorites. Emotions boiled, heating up the already sultry atmosphere.

The flames from the barrels crackled louder, as if they themselves were excited about the approaching clash.

"Dude, can you lend me five bucks?" Sokka turned to his friend.

"Are you kidding?" Aang looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"What? He taught her everything. She won't surprise him with anything, it's easy money."

"I can't believe you call yourself her brother..." Aang mumbled, but nevertheless slid a banknote into his hand.

The fight started sluggishly. They stood opposite each other, with their guard up, starting to make small circles around the arena, as if each was assessing the territory - even though they knew it all too well.

Something undefined radiated from their stances. Both were focused but remained relaxed, accustomed to fighting each other.

The circles grew smaller, and the whistles grew louder, until finally an arm's length separated them.

"You know I’m not going to go easy on you."

"You never do."

Katara made the first move. It was always that way.

She tried to exploit a moment of distraction, but such a thing didn't exist when it came to Zuko. Their movements resembled a dance more than a fight.

Fluid, synchronized, perfectly matched. Each knew where to place their hand or foot, harmonizing in exemplary fashion.

After a series of kicks, swings, and inclinations, both were considerably heated. When they approached close enough, they could feel each other's accelerated and shallow breaths.

Their faces became flushed, and their hair stuck back to their temples.

For a moment, peace returned as they moved away again. Just as if they were standing in the clearing once more.

After such a long time, it was difficult for them to find a move for which the other didn't have a learned response.

Now, however, every movement carried weight - it was no longer practice, but something definitive.

Blows fell quickly.

Zuko fought with cool precision, Katara - with passion and the memory of thousands of joint training sessions. Both knew every move of the opponent.

Every step, every attempt to evade, every transition from attack to defense.

Zuko fought without emotion. And Katara with an excess of it.

The first sign of fatigue appeared on Katara's face. Her movements involuntarily slowed down.

Zuko, although also bruised and with scratches on his cheeks, looked like he was just getting started.

"Maybe you should take a break?"

"Why would I?"

"It seems to me that you are starting to get hot."

"I assure you, I'm perfectly fine," despite these words, she was struck by the heat of her own body, which she hadn't paid attention to during the fight.

She unzipped her black hoodie, tossing it aside, remaining in a sports bra.

Whistles and scattered applause spread across the square. Everyone watched this clash with increasing involvement.

Zuko did not take his eyes off the girl's face for a moment, but his Adam's apple clearly trembled as he swallowed audibly with difficulty.

After the last challenging look, he repeated her action, taking off his undershirt. The girls sighed in unison.

Aang watched with a mixture of concern and fascination.

Sokka nervously munched on a snack bar.

"Are they still fighting or what? I'm starting to feel intimidated," Sokka muttered, hardly believing his own eyes.

A thin streak of blood appeared on Zuko's face - the cut under his eye started bleeding again.

However, he did not stop for a moment. He delivered a series of lightning-fast blows that forced Katara to retreat all the way to the edge of the pool.

But instead of panicking, the girl just smiled. She raised her guard higher, as if the real fight was just beginning - not practice, not training, but a clash that required full concentration and determination.

Quick as a wave, she tried to force her way into every possible gap in Zuko's defense.

But he had no weak points.

"You were taking lessons" Zuko joked, remembering how he had taught her exactly those blows.

"Yes, Master Pakku was indispensable," Katara replied with a slight smile.

"I mean something else, and you know it," Zuko added, shifting his gaze from her face to every movement, ready to exploit the smallest gap.

Consistent smiles accompanied them throughout the clash, as if for them it was just another children's game.

"You know I have the advantage. I taught you everything you know. But not everything I know," the boy threw out, taking the initiative and attacking relentlessly, forcing her to retreat under the pressure of his blows.

"I wouldn't be so sure," she replied with determination, trying to parry every attack, although she was already lacking skill, and the conversation certainly didn't help her concentration.

Finally, Zuko grabbed her by the wrists, twisting her arms in a way that, for most spectators, already meant the end of the fight.

"Finally," Sokka sighed. "It was sad to see a chick whoop his ass."

"Whoop? I'd say the fight is even."

"Aang, Aang, Aang..." Sokka shook his head. "You see them? She is half his height, smaller, and weaker. He took everyone down in less than ten minutes, and despite that, he can't deal with her. Look at them one more time and tell me straight to my face that the fight is even."

Despite her terrible position, Katara managed to break free. She wasn't even sure if Zuko hadn't helped her.

Maybe he did it on purpose, because he was enjoying himself as much as she was, because, like her, he didn't want this moment to end yet. Regardless, the clash continued.

Katara found herself on her knees twice, but each time she got up with unwavering determination.

Zuko almost fell once when she hit him in the ribs with her elbow. With every subsequent blow, their bodies weakened, their movements became heavier, but neither intended to give up.

Zuko attacked once again, aiming his fists at her head repeatedly, which she fended off with such ease as if she were swatting away a bothersome fly.

He moved his hands lower, towards her solar plexus. The girl instantly immobilized his hands below, using the moment to hit him from the right side.

With one hand, he grabbed her by the hips, simultaneously catching her attacking hand with the other.

He turned her back towards him, holding her close to his chest, and moved a few steps back. He held her in a strong embrace.

The fire around the circle danced on their faces. Everyone realized that in this position, the girl was unable to make any move.

They had a champion.

"What did you do wrong?"

"I forgot to raise my hands," she moaned in pain.

"Again. Will you never learn, Enchantress?"

Katara was angry. She had lost again. It didn't matter if Sokka, Zuko, or Pakku taught her. She always lost.

She was starting to suspect she wasn't as good a bender as she thought. She certainly wasn't as good a warrior.

Katara rested her head on his shoulder, finally trying to relax a little. She was breathing heavily, trying to normalize her breath.

Above her ear, she heard the boy's equally loud panting - every inhale seemed to vibrate in the air between them.

She tilted her head, holding her breath, when she realized the position they were in.

How close they were, how much their bodies were still rubbing against each other, still maintaining the tension from the fight.

She met his gaze and sensed something more than just a fight in that look - there was admiration, challenge, and barely concealed fascination.

After a moment, as if he snapped back to attention, tensing all his muscles. He could feel their heated, sweaty bodies, and every movement made the contact almost electric.

He saw her gaze involuntarily drift to his lips, and in the same moment, he felt his entire body reacting.

She stood on her tiptoes, and after a moment, she placed a delicate kiss on his lips.

Another wave of whistles and howls immediately rolled through the pool area, and some fans nervously pounded their hands on tiles, benches, or their own knees.

The echo of the crowd's reaction filled the space, but for Katara and Zuko, the world seemed at that moment confined to their bodies, their breaths, and this one brief moment that lasted much longer than she might have expected.

"Her? And him? Her and him?" Sokka's jaw dropped, and his hands involuntarily landed on his hips.

He was clearly in shock, as if he had suddenly discovered something unbelievable and was completely overwhelmed by it.

"Don't look at me, I don't know anything," Suki replied, covering her eyes.

His lips responded to her movement with the same determination. Zuko returned the kiss slowly, almost cautiously, as if examining her every gesture, every reaction, and at the same time allowing himself something he hadn't shown before - a genuine feeling he had tried to hide behind a cool mask.

Katara felt the boy yielding to her, deepening the kiss. She was surprised, feeling the tension between them was overwhelming, but she didn't think it would really happen, or that Zuko would return the gesture.

"Now you know why he's a firebender?" She heard her brother scream.

"Because that kiss was fiery!" Suki, sitting next to him, yelled.

They were definitely worthy of each other. One was howling, the other was whistling.

His hand slid gently along her back, pulling her closer, and under his lips, she could feel the shadow of his smile.

Katara ran her tongue over his teeth, then used the moment to hook her leg behind his calf and, with a quick movement, tripped him, sending him to the ground.

She rolled him onto his side before he realized what was happening.

She sat on his back with her full body weight so he couldn't break free, while simultaneously twisting his arms.

Every gasp of pain that escaped his lips added to her satisfaction.

She leaned over him, whispering in his ear:

"You might think you taught me everything, because you taught me how to punch and kick, but you didn't teach me everything I know." She twisted his shoulder even harder, eliciting another groan of pain from his mouth.

"Alright, I surrender. I surrender, Katara!"

"You’ve surrendered to me a long time ago," she replied calmly, lifting herself off his back, adopting a victorious, though slightly weary, posture.

"Clever. Mean. Ruthless."

"I know," she replied with a smile. "I learned from the best."

Soon after, she was announced the champion.

The excitement in the air was almost palpable, and the party was just about to get started.

The first pulsating sounds of music could be heard through the open windows of the main building, and light was now provided only by the three fire barrels.

Katara approached Zuko, handing him a red cup. Tiredness from the fight, but also a shadow of contentment, gleamed in his eyes.

"A bit embarrassing, Zuko," she said, with a slight smile, watching his hands slowly set the cup aside.

"I don't care about that," he replied calmly, doing the same with the second cup that Katara still held in her hands.

His gaze lingered on her for a long moment, as if saying more than words.

"You lost," she threw out, although her tone suggested playful provocation rather than judgment.

"Not at all. I definitely won." With that sentence, he leaned in, pulling her into a long, fiery kiss.

"I forgot to ask," Zuko moved slightly away from her, his gaze a mix of playful provocation and sincere interest.

Katara raised an eyebrow, frowning, completely not understanding what he meant.

"Can I kiss you now?" The sarcastic half-smile she knew so well danced on his lips. 

Before she could say anything, Zuko leaned in, and their lips met in a kiss full of tension and determination.

There was a hidden weight of months of restrained feelings in it — his every action suggested that he had been suppressing what he desired for a long time, and now he didn't intend to hold back any longer.

His hands clenched on her back, pulling her closer, and Katara felt the force of his willpower and determination, which always seemed to keep him in check, giving way.

When they finally moved slightly apart, their foreheads were still touching, and the tension in the air did not subside.

Katara was sixteen when they moved to Mythbrook. For the first time, she didn't blame her father for separating her from the ocean.

Her life-giving force.