I realize that this had been done many many times before, and much much better than I am doing it here (most notably in the story Gods and Magnolias by effie's head; go read that one), but this is simply what popped into my head when I read the prompt. It's not my best, but it will have to do for now. I have a really great idea for the next prompt, so if I may beg you to have patience with me, I'll give you a good show. In the meantime, read and review, s'il vous plait!
The Earth Rumble tournaments were not (exactly) illegal. They did not actually cause any harm or destruction of property that would be contrary to the laws of the kingdom, and what damage they did cause was usually to the sort of people who would be the last to complain to legitimate government authorities. Of course, measures were still put into place (the 'place' usually being somewhere with the ambiance of a dark alley and about as much lighting) that would keep any soldiers from investigating in an official capacity. These preventative measures, which usually involved gold, were also aided by the fact that a great many soldiers came to watch the tournaments in an unofficial capacity and would be quite upset, not to mention out a good deal in uncollected bets, if the tournaments were to be dissolved. So they continued to exist, unspoken-of and left alone, not illegal but generally agreed upon as not being the best family-friendly method of entertainment that the Earth Kingdom, and the town of Gaoling especially, had to offer.
This is why it was so strange that no one noticed a small nine-year-old girl slipping into the arena one fateful night, weaving nimbly through the legs of the burly men that crowded together in the entrance tunnel, snorting like hogs being herded into a pen, shouting bets and curses and other coarse things unfit for the ears of such a small child. There was no sort of security at the door – having found the place was proof enough that one was qualified to be there – and the girl was far below the eyeline of most attendees, but it was still rather odd that she managed to slip into the arena completely unchallenged.
Perhaps she was aided by the fact that her dress, once an eye-catching angelic white, had been so smudged with dirt and soot that it was now a muddy sort of gray, and thus much less noticeable. Perhaps it was the fact that she had forsaken her shiny shoes, which would have tapped and clattered against the stone floor, for much quieter bare feet. If anyone had looked closely at her dress – which of course no one did – they would have noticed that it had once been much longer, probably trailing on the ground, but the lower portion had been torn off, leaving a jagged hemline halfway to the girl's knee. This ensured that none of the other spectators were ensnared by her robe; she moved deftly enough not to be tripped over, and she was quiet, so it was as though she was invisible as she slipped into the moss-green sweaty shimmer of the arena and sat, no more than an oddly colored shadow, in one of the vacant front rows.
With a rumble and a roar over which the announcer's voice was no more than an annoying buzz, the tournament began. The little girl remained utterly still throughout the cheerings and smashings, except to occasionally move a few inches to the left in order to avoid a boulder which smashed into the stands, leaving a dusty crater where she had been sitting moments before. If anyone had looked closely at her face – which of course no one bothered to do – they would have seen her eyes, concealed by the filmy cataracts of blindness, wide and unblinking, her mouth hanging slightly open in utter shock. They might have noted that her breathing was growing labored as the scents of sweat and dirt and blood filled the stadium. She looked as though she was ready to tremble in ecstasy. She looked as though she was having a religious experience, communing with God.
Then the rounds were over, and a score of bruised and bloody men lay groaning in various prone positions in the deep empty moat that surrounded the actual table of stone that was the playing field. The crowd began shifting and seething, preparing to depart, as the announcer stood holding up the champion's hand and a bag of gold, asking for challengers that would never come, challengers which had never come before.
The low rumble of noise from the crowd was instantly silenced by a shout that cut through the thick stadium air, a high, piping, fluting call that was almost birdlike, ridiculously out of place in the dim underground battlefield.
"I will!"
Utter silence fell. Men who had half-risen to their feet sunk back into their seats again, craning their necks to catch sight of the muscled monster they expected to see making his way down to the field. Instead, they saw what appeared to be a little girl in a mangled dress, her hair pinned back into a complex series of loops and whorls worn only by the richest nobles. Confused, they glanced around again, thinking perhaps this girl was a herald of some kind, or an assistant, or a messenger. But no monolith of a challenger appeared, and the men were left scratching their heads and making various grunting noises to express their bewilderment as the little girl stepped onto the stage and took up what appeared to be an Earthbending stance.
The champion, too, was struck dumb by such an unexpected development. He stood gaping for a moment, as his rocklike brain tried to decipher the signals being sent to it and failed, engaging a backup response. The great man doubled over laughing, banging his fist on the stone floor, sending loose rocks jumping and clattering all around the arena. The crowd followed his lead, and soon the roar and hoots of laughter filled the stadium, though what they were laughing at no one was exactly sure. The little girl had failed to relinquish her absurd existence or given any indication that it was a joke. She hadn't moved.
The champion's laughter went on and on, even after the crowd's had stopped; he toppled over onto his knees, still banging his fist against the floor, clutching his side, his eyes tearing up and the tears gleaming in the stadium lights as he raised his head to howl his laughter to the ceiling. The little girl had apparently grown tired of his inactivity, for she slid one foot out in front of her along the ground, shifting her weight ever so slightly.
A pillar of rock sprang out of the ground and caught the champion under the chin, knocking him unconscious. The girl swung her foot sharply to the left. The earth under the champion's prone form buckled, tossing him over the edge of the field like a discarded pebble.
There was silence.
The men in the crowd simply stared, dumbfounded. They could not make sense of such an obviously impossible event as that which they had just witnessed. The deed and the person who had done it were so different they were irreconcilable. Therefore, the crowd all simultaneously came to the same logical (in the circumstances) conclusion; it was a trick, they had been cheated, they had been duped! Three of them closest to the stage, having laid enormous beats on the champion's rock-solid shoulders, were overcome by rage and rushed the playing field, swinging fists and boulders as they went.
The little girl didn't turn her head to look at them. Instead, she smiled a great wide beaming butterfly-chasing smile and swung a veritable cliff at her three attackers that broke every bone in their bodies.
Then, as the crowd stood stunned and immobile, the girl turned away from her would-be assailants, tucked her hands into her sleeves and walked back towards the stadium entrance, plucking the bag of gold from the announcer's limp hand as she went. Without a word, without acknowledging the hardened warriors who stared after her as though she was the specter of Death itself, Toph Beifong walked out of the stadium, returned home, and spent the rest of the evening playing with the pretty porcelain dolls her mother had bought for her birthday.
I repeat: Review, s'il vous plait! Reviews make me happy, make me write faster, and... did I mention they make me happy?
That's enough pathetic begging for one story, don't you think? Au revoir!