Part 2 of 3, in which a non-bending Korra uses her spiritual side to offset her new limitations.


The crowd roared with every exchange of blows, cheering on their champion and jeering at Korra with all the fervor of pro-bending fans. With the arena as the stage of their duel, it could have been just another match. Maybe one in which Mako and Bolin had already been knocked into the water, leaving her to bring the Fire Ferrets victory.

But of course this wasn't the same. She had no backup here, not with Mako still unmoving. If he didn't wake up soon, she'd be on her own against thousands of Equalists.

And unlike during pro-bending matches, she couldn't bend.

Each blow that pounded Korra's arms and ribs made her bones shiver. Even just blocking Amon's hits was taking its toll. He was a bloodbender, a strategist, and as agile as any Waterbender, but on top of all that his physical strength was incredible.

She fell back toward the arena's center once more, seeking refuge by the posts where Tenzin's family had been chained. A sea of eager, hungry faces watched her go. Amon followed, flexing his fingers.

"An appropriate place to go, Korra." His modulated voice sounded amused. "I can see it already. The Avatar, chained up like a criminal for standing in the way of equality."

I need my bending!

Korra strained against the void where her bending should be, reaching for the fire. It had to be there. It —

Her head jerked back and stars blazed in her vision, agony blooming in her skull. She reeled backward, arms flailing. They met contact once, twice, a third time as she tried to clear her vision.

The fourth slipped past her desperate defense and slammed into her face.

Korra backpedaled, rolling her tongue through the warm taste of blood. No more attempts. Whatever bloodbending Amon used to seal her bending, she wouldn't be able to break it mid-fight.

She paused. If she used the forms without the elements...

He came again, graceful and deliberate, and this time she allowed herself to drift back, easing slowly to her right. Not slow enough — retreating from Amon was like trying to out-swim one of the South Pole's autumn storms.

Now!

She planted her heel and jumped, pulling back her arm as she imagined the fire in her veins blossoming at her fingertips —

Whether her cry of pain or the crack of her fractured wrist was louder, Korra couldn't say.

As she fell she saw his fist, so fast it seemed to blur, and she took a quick breath, preparing to -

His punch didn't materialize. The real strike came a fraction of a second later, turning her gasp into a choked grunt, her lungs hardening into iron as she fell to a knee.

Too late she realized her mistake.

Of course Amon, who'd fought scores of benders and seen Korra herself in action several times, would recognize her bending forms. No longer needing to dodge elements she couldn't command, he had nothing to fear from her bending techniques. He'd see them, assess them, and hit her when she was vulnerable.

She'd never thought of bending as dancing but, as the Equalist chi-blockers had proven time and time again, even the quickest bending could rarely keep up with a talented martial artist. It was simply slower. Amon knew this. He'd trained in this kind of movement specifically to take down benders without revealing his true nature.

There he was, standing in front of her, facing the screaming crowd with a fist in the air.

And yet, the crowd's cheers seemed strangely subdued.

Korra frowned. They still cheered him on, still insulted her, but it seemed quieter than she expected. Many in the crowd were silent. Anticipating? Caught up in the fight? Or, for some reason, uneasy?

They've never seen him beat up someone who couldn't bend, Korra. By confronting him at all, you're making them think.

Spitting out blood, Korra grinned. The other voice was back, and it was right. Maybe she couldn't win the crowd, but at least she was giving them pause.

It wouldn't matter if she didn't beat Amon.

She launched herself at him.

The rocky platform hard against her cheek, its caress rough and unforgiving.

But I just…can't.

She rolled away, stumbling once before she could find her feet. Taking in huge gulps of air, she lowered herself to a knee, trying to look like she was preparing another attack and not just trying to catch her breath.

Amon's posture was disinterested, almost lazy. He approached her calmly, his gait the casual, smooth stride of a man who knows his victory is only a matter of time. His blue eyes leered at her from his mask's shadowed slits. "Your body is trained for bending, Korra. You can't beat me. You can't beat equality."

Korra snarled at him, but her heart plummeted. For all her training, he was just too strong. She couldn't block his hits anymore.

Then don't.

Amon reached for her. Batting his arm aside, Korra skipped away, and he let out a laugh. Its harsh ring scratched at her ears. The watching crowd laughed with him.

What did you do in your first pro-bending match when you couldn't recover from each hit? What did you do at Air Temple Island, when one spinning board pushed you into the next?

Korra watched as Amon circled her. Even from several yards away she could sense the force in his muscles building, see him gearing up for a knockout blow.

Make him miss.

Amon charged.

And Korra surrendered.

Tears sprang to her eyes as a barrage of pain slammed into her. Every injury she'd sustained since entering the arena, every impact, every block, every broken bone, the horrible emptinesss, it all collapsed in on top of her. She swayed, for a moment unable to breathe.

Amon's boot clipped her shoulder, throwing her back.

The crowd cheered. Even from a distance they must have seen the power, heard the crack.

Her breath came quick and light. She rotated her shoulder, wincing as she felt bone fragments scrape together. And her body was tough, muscular. She'd trained for years to be able to take a hit like that. Had it connected where he'd aimed it, square on her chin, the kick would have snapped her neck.

But she'd dodged it.

Pleasure that was not hers filled her mind. A leaf on the wind, right? The monks always used to tell me to pretend to be a leaf, but the wind itself is a lot stronger.

Korra's jaw dropped. Talk of Airbending monks coming from a voice in her head? "Aang?"

Hello, Korra. Good start.

Amon came again, his fist moving at blinding speed. His knuckles were bruised purple and bloody from the blows he'd already landed on her. He'd clearly lost none of his strength in this fight. Blocking it might break her already fragile forearms, or even render useless her arm that already had a fractured shoulder and broken wrist, and once more her fear surged, she couldn't stop it if —

The first step to being a bender, Korra, is letting go of your fear.

Right. She didn't need to block it. It simply wasn't going to hit her.

Well done.

His armored red-and-brown boot came next, a kick aimed at her midsection that barely grazed her blue tunic. Then an uppercut that slid along her ear, brushing damp hair out of her face. A jab of his rigid hand, a second, and a slash at her shoulder hit nothing but air. She heard the whispers, suggestions of reinforced cloth and rushing wind, and swayed in response.

And then, as he stumbled past her, she hooked her foot around his ankle and pulled.

Amon crashed to the arena floor.

Murmurs sprung from the crowd. Full of anger, but she could also sense their uncertainty. Their champion's invincibility was proof of his righteousness; he'd been granted his powers by the spirits, after all. If the Avatar — and she was still the Avatar, the one they knew had spirits on her side — could beat him without her bending, had the spirits decided that they'd already achieved equality?

The irony stung.

"I see. All four elements. Of course." From where he crouched on the floor, Amon's grim mask seemed to be frowning in the arena's torchlight. "Your Airbending should be gone. How do you still have it?"

Korra shrugged with her good arm, mustering a sneer with effort. "Maybe your version of equality doesn't equal balance."

"Or perhaps I simply missed it the first time around."

Her heart hammered at his upraised arm. If he bloodbent her now, he would use it to kill her. "I-I wouldn't do that."

His low chuckle sent chills down her spine. He rose to his feet slowly, confidence restored. "And why not?"

Realization came as soon as he asked the question. "How are you going to convince people I'm Airbending?" Korra asked through gritted teeth, settling into a crouch. "You and I both know I can't."

Amon cocked his head, shaking it as he peered at her, but he kept his voice to a murmur only she could hear. "You can't possibly believe I need proof." He came at her again, feinting twice before lunging for her, but she twisted aside.

Now it was Korra's turn to shake her head. "If you hadn't already taken my bending, maybe not," she spat, not bothering to keep her voice down. Let the chi-blockers hear the truth of the hollowness inside her. "But to accuse me, who can't bend, of something no one can see? How many of your followers will still believe you have spirit powers?"

When he hesitated, she knew she had him.

"By taking away my bending, you sabotaged yourself." The words tasted like acid.

They had hardly left her mouth when he threw himself at her.

There was no finesse, no technique. Just a rain of blows like a northern squall, coming at her from every direction. Her world narrowed to the range of her foe's reach, the points of his fists and kicks and elbows. A kick she thought she'd dodged clipped her knee, and it took all her strength to remain standing. Her wrist and shoulder flared angrily, making the arena whirled dizzyingly.

With a sinking feeling, Korra realized that even though she'd discovered how to beat Amon, she still might not be able to win.

I don't like teaching the "leaf on the wind" lessons, Korra. Even if they did suit Tenzin well.

Korra gritted her teeth, deflecting a quick succession of blows and leaping away. Um, no time for stories right now!

Be the wind itself. Push him off balance, then punish him for it. Like you did before.

Weaving in and out of a series of kicks, Korra understood. She couldn't keep this up. Already her lungs were straining for air, sweat staining her blue shirt and covering her upper arms, her hair matted and limp. She couldn't win passively.

Push him off balance, and punish him for it.

Punish him.

Punish him.

Defense wasn't much her style anyway.

When Amon dove for her this time, she slid out of the way, planted her feet, and dug her knee into his chest. His breath came out in a coughing grunt, but she was already moving, anticipating his strike and leaping over it. An empty grin as she turned her jump into a Firebending move, swinging her other leg down to slam Amon into the rock.

His muscles trembled once more with fatigue, but this time they jumped and thrummed in a way terrifyingly similar to the feeling of being bloodbent. Korra darted away from Amon, but he merely got to his feet, breathing heavily as he watched her out of the corner of his eye. His fingers were tight, rigid. Could he be...?

He's trying to bloodbend you. Just enough to make it look like you succumbed to your injuries. But I've got your back. Keep fighting.

Korra's breath caught, her heart lifting, hoping. If you can help me like that, does that mean I can go into the Avatar state?

No answer. Not that she needed one. If she could, she'd be in it already.

The strange queasiness flickered, abating as she ducked under a punch and rammed an elbow into Amon's leather-armored side. Spinning around him, Korra swept the same arm around to send him tumbling to the ground.

Punish him.

She didn't wait for him to recover. As he rose to his feet, Korra rushed at him - and then past him, trailing her hand to grab his shirt by the scruff of the neck. She dragged him ten feet before he managed to grab her wrist, but the air warned her and she released him, letting him fall. He launched himself forward, reaching for her injured arm, and Korra smiled. She tucked her arm in, fighting through the pain, and fastened an iron grip around his forearm.

Shouting out under the strain, the muscles of her good arm bulging with the effort, she picked him up and threw him toward the edge of the platform.

A pair of chi-blockers moved to help him, but he shoved them aside. "The Avatar is mine."

Korra beckoned him toward her. His earlier poise was unraveling, and he had already tried to bloodbend her in the open. If she could get him close enough to the edge, to the water...

She danced around his first punch and dipped beneath his second, reorienting them so that his back was to the platform's edge.

He blocked her first kick. The second glanced off his knee, causing him to hobble backward. He evaded a third kick with a sweep of his leg, using momentum to drag his body. A fourth kick boxed his ear, and he staggered back, stunned.

Her fifth kick, a sweeping overhead strike, shattered the mask with a crack that rang across the arena's bleachers.

Korra fell back, bouncing on her heels. The face of Noatak stared at her from beneath his rumpled hood. From this distance, his scar looked a whole lot less real. "What's the matter, Amon? Afraid of me now that you're unmasked?"

Roaring with fury, Amon leaped at her with his arms outstretched and fingers like claws. She felt the tremor of attempted bloodbending pass through her arms, crying out where it rattled her broken bones, but she had prepared for this. Aang's spirit was with her, and though she couldn't bend she would still win. Her eyes narrowed and she smiled, feeling the rush of adrenaline as she rammed her good hand into his chest. He stumbled, trying to find his footing, but before he could there was no more floor. With a surprised cry, he toppled over the edge.

Amon, champion of the Equalists and hidden bloodbender, hit the water a hundred feet below with the most satisfying splash Korra had ever heard.

For a blissful moment, she imagined she could hear the announcer celebrating.

Panting, Korra straightened. The crowd was shouting incomprehensible things at her, but the chi-blockers who surrounded her watched impassively. Amon's lieutenant folded his arms over his chest.

What do I do now? Did they see him try to bloodbend me? Did I do it wrong? "Uh, I assume you saw -"

Rushing water behind her, and too late Korra remembered what element bloodbending was related to. Her limbs suddenly jerked from her control.

No! I won! Aang, you said you'd stop him!

Silence.

The mask was gone. So was the scar he'd shown her earlier. She was looking into the chiseled, glowering face of a Southern Water Tribesman. Noatak. "I am this close to my ideals, Avatar, and you will not-"

A rough, low voice grated the air. "Traitor."

Korra heard a grunt, and suddenly her limbs were free.

Noatak was on the ground, his face was contorted in a fury Korra had never seen before. Rage, hatred, betrayal — murder was written all over his face. But it wasn't directed at her.

Hanging in the air, his limbs splayed grotesquely around him, was Amon's lieutenant.

The arena was still. Then -

"Bloodbender!"

The crowd, united only moments ago, dissolved into confusion and panic. Korra caught a glimpse of the chi-blockers rushing at Amon before something slammed into the side of her head and knocked her to the ground. A boot collided with her fractured shoulder, throwing her head against the rock, and her vision bloomed white.

Shouting, now. More creaking, the terrible sound of bloodbending pushing roughly through her haze of agony. She couldn't breathe. A roar, maybe the crowd, maybe the water below the arena. An explosion, somewhere behind her. She blinked, trying to push herself to her feet, but the floor was tilting and one of her arms wouldn't move and her back was on fire, as if a powerful electric current —

Explosions, more of them. With a mighty push, she made it to a knee, but then she was surrounded by rocks, and there was heat outside, unbearable heat as the Firelord pressed his attack, and then she was back in the arena, surrounded by fighting bodies —

An arm wrapped around her neck and squeezed. A low voice in her ear, saying, "Don't move a muscle, Avatar, or—" but she reached behind her and grabbed the mask and threw, and the chi-blocker slammed into the pale stone in front of her. Electricity sizzled past her and she remembered the feeling of holding it in her hand, and then someone grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet. Half-blind with pain she swung at her attacker, but when she saw the familiar red scarf her cry of rage turned into one of joy.

"Mako!"

"Mako, get her out of here!" General Iroh's voice. Except it was also the voice of her best friend, and he was saying Sokka.

His arms around her, and suddenly she was flying, a continuous blast of fire underneath her, and while she loved the feeling of Mako's body against hers she hated that she couldn't direct the flames herself, and suddenly she couldn't help but wonder where she would get a new glider now that —

"Korra!"

Korra jolted to attention. She landed hard on the floor, her legs folding beneath her as she fell to the glass panes and metal beams.

No, not the floor. The roof. She was on the roof of the pro-bending arena. And she'd just punched Mako in the face.

She opened her mouth to apologize, but before she could get out more than a "I'm so sor-" the boy she wanted to see (and grab, and hug, and maybe kiss) was replaced by General Iroh.

"Avatar Korra." He peered at her with concern written on his face. Mako edged into view behind him, and the two of them watched her with hooded expressions. "Are you alright?"

This far from the rest of the city and hundreds of feet above the combat below, the night air was heavy enough to mute the conflict. The night breeze brought a chill to her bones, reminding her that she would never Firebend again, snuffing out the glow of victory. So she could win a fistfight without her bending. So what? She was the Avatar. How was she supposed to keep balance between the elements if she couldn't feel them? How could she win the respect of world leaders? She was just a seventeen-year-old girl who'd trained her whole life to do something she no longer could.

A tear trickled down her cheek. She shook it away angrily.

"Take me to Aang Memorial Island."

They glanced at each other, but thankfully they said nothing. Maybe they thought she was going there to seek spiritual guidance.

Let them. If I was going to connect with my past lives, they'd have come to me before Amon bloodbent me. Before he took my bending away forever.

She just needed to get as far away from here as she could. From this place, from the Equalists, from the Firebenders who stood in front of her, from the city.

From everyone.


A/N: I just about made my self-imposed deadline. Editing was unfortunately a bit of a rush job so do point out any mistakes you find!

Part 3, which is the whole reason this piece exists, is already in progress and will be up within a week.