Gods and Magnolias
-:- earth rumble vi -:-
Xin Fu has big plans for Earth Rumble VI. He's got the regular gags—good old Fire Nation Man, the boggling Big Bad Hippo. He's collected a new group of rookies—she can call them "rookies" because when three years constitute a quarter of your life it counts as tenure. They have potential, but lack the experience of masters, which is fine because Xin Fu hired them as fodder. The Boulder, who owes his entire career to Xin Fu's competition and promotion, plays the part of the dethroned Champion, seeking revenge.
In her small chamber she paces as the Boulder blows through the rookies as easily as she will blow through him, and the crowd's fervor is a tickle on the soles of her feet and a low hum in the air. She shakes with impatience, but Xin Fu has promised her turn. By defeating one, you defeat them all, he assured. He's counting on this showdown between the two champions. He knows that she will win, and she knows it, too. The Boulder might even know it as he demolishes his opponents. The only way to beat the Blind Bandit is to kill her.
Like a good thief, she destroys the Boulder with only two moves, unadorned, lucid, almost imperceptible. This is the allure, the beauty of the Blind Bandit, she thinks as the horde of fans sing their praise and Xin Fu makes his offer. No one dares to face her? She smiles, content in the knowledge that no one will, no one ever has.
A voice, blithe, unaware of the reverential stillness it shatters, chimes, I will!
The phantom of a memory skims the surface of her mind: a fleck of spit on the lips of a deity, a fight, a winner. But she doesn't have time to dwell on that now, and the thought flees just as quickly as it appeared.
The boy is a small, fragile, clumsy thing, and she, the elation of victory still sweet on her tongue, taunts him. He absorbs her mocking and repays her with a gentle request: I want to talk. Talk! The people groan their annoyance; they don't want a conference, they want to watch the Blind Bandit devour the kid. But they'll have to be patient, they'll have to wait just as she waits on him. Let him talk away. She furnishes him with no response and, mistaking her concentration for attentiveness, he takes a step forward.
She lunges for him with a a wave of rock that will knock him flat on his face. He evades her attack. She prepares to throw another—but the boy has vanished! She can't feel him anywhere. For a terrifying instant, the forbidden thought flashes through her mind, catches her breath: I'm blind!
No. Relief floods her when she feels his bare toes scrape the ground. Again she attacks, and again he disappears. He's more of a pest than an opponent! Angered and annoyed, she fails to think the game through, to wait for his inevitable misstep and use it as momentum and inspiration, doesn't wonder what makes him coast over the stage, and this is her mistake.
One dumb rookie move is all it takes. The instant she can sense him she hurls a slab of stone with as much power as she can muster. She hears it slice the air; there's no way he can evade this one. But instead of the resonance of stone hitting flesh, a sound she's never before heard in Xin Fu's dank, sunken stadium fills her ears: the rush of wind.
An instant later she's flying.
She doesn't know what kind of trick it was, but it certainly wasn't Earthbending. He cheated, she wants to scream, but already the crowd is lauding the new Champion. How easily they've forgotten her! How eager they are to celebrate this fraud, this nobody, this-
The word rings in her head, at first quiet and tentative. But with each stinging cheer, each step she makes toward the solitude of her chamber, each plea the shrimp has the nerve to make, one word shrieks its senseless rage in her ears.
Murderer!