Quick Author's Notes: I honestly thought I would never write in the Avatar fandom again…how amazing! My love for Avatar sort of died during the gap between seasons two and three—and because of the lack of Toph-centric episodes. But now, I guess, I am back in black. :D
The Moon Warrior
The blade was so perfect, so swift, so right between his fingers. It was long, and sharp - a true double-edged sword. The handle had been carved carefully out of the strongest wood, and then polished until Sokka could see his face reflected in it. He even painted it himself; a shiny dark red, the colour revered by his enemies. On the bottom of the handle Sokka carved the calligraphy sign for the moon. His writing was clumsy, but Sokka was proud nonetheless.
He twirled the blade, going through a few basic motions. He did figure eights and then some fancy footwork, purely for show, perhaps for the moon rising high above him. Sokka finally settled into a fixed stance and did a clean forward thrust. He thought that the blade of his sword - his sword, the one he made all by himself - swathed in the bright moonlight was perhaps one of the most beautiful things he's ever seen. Inadvertently, Sokka smiled, and his blue eyes twinkled with memories.
It's so lovely, Sokka thought, not wanting to break the silence of the night with his voice. Do you see, Yue? My sword is almost as beautiful as you are...
His face then hardened with sadness, and he moved gracefully into a fighting stance.
Two steps forward, swing; bring front foot back, block left; switch hands, block right. Turn, step forward, thrust, swing! Block downwards, run three steps forward, swing, thrust. Repeat. Thrust. Swing.
Sokka went on for a while, and then finally drew back, completely out of breath. He bowed to his imaginary opponent and sat down on the hard earth rubble, sheathing his sword carefully in its scabbard.
The blood coursed through him, and he felt alive and excited - he always felt that way after training with weapons, be it knife, spear, or boomerang. The feeling of battle was exhilarating. Breathing heavily, Sokka lay down on the rock and stared up at the clear night sky.
"Yue," he whispered, "maybe if I had been a better warrior...If I had this sword then...maybe...I could have saved you..."
His eyes blinked and his body, overcome with weariness, drifted off to sleep. A light wind blew, cooling his temples; before being consumed by sleep entirely, Sokka could have sworn that for a split second he saw a silver woman sitting amongst the stars, a soft smile gracing her white lips.
Author's Notes:
I love swordplay. I actually squealed in delight today while watching Sokka's battle.
Also; I don't quite remember whether or not Sokka got to keep his sword, and I'm too lazy to go look it up, so let's just say he did, for the fanfiction's sake. :D