Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Toza

Republic City's government and The Pro-Bending Association (Pro-BA) both had laws about illegal gambling that pretty much said a professional pro-bender or official who got caught and was guilty would pay money, go to court, and then go to jail for a long time. However, Pro-BA gave the added bonus of permanently banning the poor guy and anyone who got caught enabling him or turned the cheek from the sport forever. That included trainers, refs, and announcers, the concession guy.

But Toza had his own law about gaming and gambling: None of his business. Man had to eat, had to feed himself and his family. Times were tough and sometimes a man fell on 'em. Honest money didn't stack as well as it did in the past. If a slob had to work numbers to take care of business, let 'em. As long as he didn't see it, as long as it wasn't inside his gym, as long as he wasn't asked to hold anything, and as long as he didn't have the police department knocking down his door, it was none of his business.

Besides, half the benders today lacked the potential he himself had come in and christened the ring with way back in the day when he was young and stupid. Before he had eaten, pissed, threw, or pimped his money away, got smart, and saved just enough to open his own gym to train and watch up-and-comers rise to bigger and better things...or fail. If after hours of training and strength and tears and blood and all that fucking padding they gave with the uniforms nowadays, their ass still couldn't fight and win against another bender who was just working with the same, they were asking for their get-yours.

Take He-ping for example. He-ping had had potential when he had first come in. Firebender: agile, powerful movements; standing flame that could grow up to three feet long; flame punches that traveled about twenty feet; had a temper, and channeled it into brute force. Not the best method, but it worked. And now look at him: equal amount of wins and losses and double-gambling with some money in his team, some money in other teams. No wife or kids, just addictions to being wasteful and flashy, debt, and sharks. Collectors coming by the gym and standing outside those gold doors waiting for him to come and tell him that he still owed their "associates" this and that by when and where. No wonder the bastard had reduced himself to driving around in the Satomobile he slept in looking for and picking fights with street urchins where good people were trying to get money for a honest day of back-breaking work.

In this case, it was a kid that looked like he was just legal enough to drink.

"Hey! Hey!" He-ping had stepped out his bucket, engine still running, and was stepping heavy towards the kid. "You, Red Scarf!" His steps quickened when the kid didn't turn around, pushed a few other people walking on the sidewalk away. "Red Scarf! HEY!" He finally reached the kid, caught his shoulder and spun him around. "You hear me calling you! The fuck you keep walking for?"

Kid shrugged his hand off his shoulder. "My name's not 'Red Scarf', and I don't have any business with you."

"Wrong. You run numbers for The Triple Ts."

Toza squinted. He recognized the kid now. Tall, lean, some muscle. Dressed like his clothes came from a shelter box. Had just gotten into laboring, standing around places for work. Always had his hands stuffed in his pockets, head down, eyes on the ground. Saw him outside the gym a lot and inside the arena sometimes, on the days of the big fights with a huge knot in his pocket. Apart from that, there was nothing else worthwhile enough to make his white eyebrow rise.

"So?" The look on his face was bored, stance nonchalant, but the look in his eye was sharp.

"You've been getting my numbers wrong. Been stiffing me."

"Wrong."

"Right. Give me my money."

"Don't got it. You double-gamble. That means even when your team wins and you get money, you lose it because the other teams lost. Not my fault if you don't get math."

People were walking around them now, huge semi-circles made with carts and footsteps.

"Don't have to get math, only my money. I saw what you were counting after last week's match. No way your cut was that big. Which means you stiffed me." He-ping's finger stabbed at the kid's chest.

"How big the wad I was holding isn't your business."

"Will be if you don't hand it over. My business'll become burning ya face off." Muscles getting tight, stance changing. He was gonna fight the kid. Fucking pathetic, a professional like him fighting a street urchin.

"Whatever." But he didn't turn around. Amazing how a kid could be smart and dumb all at once.

A crowd was forming now.

It was none of Toza's business, not even when He-ping stepped forward and fire-punched at point-blank range. A one-two. Would've been good if He-ping was still good.

It became his business when he saw the kid move. Duck and weave, once, twice. Side-step out of range. Made He-ping work, made him pivot to track him. Another duck with the next fire-punch that came at him, fists close to the the face. He-ping didn't seem to notice the kid was close to do damage and followed through with a kick to He-ping's ribs. Solid enough for there to be a bruise later.

"You little shit!" He-ping's right fist came swinging, connected to the kid's face, but it wasn't solid. Kid wove around the left jab that came at him, hopped back, practically danced out of range. Shot his arm forth and flames came. Another cross-over with the feet and then a kick with the left and more fire good enough to push his opponent back.

An imitation of a professional. Rough, but not poor. And talented.

"BY ORDER OF THE REPUBLIC CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT, YOU ARE UNDER ARREST FOR RECKLESS BENDING AND ENDANGERMENT!" The balloon flying down and the policeman coming out made the crowd scatter, made it easy for He-ping to escape, but the kid wasn't so lucky.

He was Toza's business now.

He was seventeen, still a minor, so there was no charge against him. But to get him out of jail cost 1,500 yuans and took the metals over two hours to process the release papers.

Toza paid it and waited. And thought, making this kid his business.

The kid's face was confused when he walked out and saw him. "You paid for me?"

"Yeah."

"...Thank you." He walked out of the station, the sidewalk cool in the setting sun and Toza followed. He noticed he wasn't hobbling after the kid; the kid was walking slow for his benefit.

"Ya fight good."

"Had to get good at it sometime."

"Where'd ya learn?"

The kid stopped walking for a second and then started again. "...Places."

There was a lot in that statement, a lot of things that were confirmed. Orphan, scrounger, pick-pocketer.

"Ya move like one of em," the kid gave him an arching look, "a Pro-Bender. Watch the fights?"

"Yeah...Something like that." The kid's face hardened, tight-lipped. Pulled his scarf over his mouth.

"...Nunova my business how ya watched the fights or what ya did to be a good fighter, but don't gotta deny it. I'm not gonna turn ya in to He-ping or the metals."

"So why're you asking?"

"To see how committed ya are to it."

"I only do it because I needed the yuans. Soon, I won't have to do it anymore."

"So what'll ya do?"

"Work. Find a place that'll take me. Get an apartment for two people."

Toza nodded. Kid was level-headed, grounded, focused. "Y'ever dream of doing anything different?"

"Like what?"

"Taking those skills into the ring. Professionally."

"Professionally." He gave him a skeptical look, realized he wasn't joking, and shook his head. "Not me. I don't have experience fighting in the ring, it's too expensive, I'd have to train a year, maybe more, to be ready. Gotta find a trainer, and another fighter. No thanks."

Toza grinned. The kid said no, but he had thought about it, imagined scenarios and strategies. That much was clear and it was good—kid needed to be able to have a back up plan coming in. "I could help ya do it professionally. Big time."

He stopped in his tracks. "You?"

"Yeah—and don't say it like ya don't fucking believe me. If I couldn't do it, we wouldn't be talking. I can train ya, get ya registered, find ya fighters, teammates. It'll take ya awhile before you're ready, but ya'd be better than ready when ya stepped in the ring. If you trained with me, ya'd be in the business. And if ya stayed good as ya are now, wouldn't have to work the nine to five."

"I don't have awhile. I have things—people, a person—to take care of now. I need a job, or a bunch of jobs right now."

"I own the gym y'helping run numbers out of. And I'm old. Ya need jobs, I got shit that can't get done well all the time. I got people, friends, who could use hands too—nothing illegal, nothing that gets other Pro-Benders or the police knocking on your door. You do em, you get paid."

The kid still looked skeptical, yellow-brown eyes processing everything. He shook his head. "Nothing is free; no one walks up to someone and offers stuff like that so easy. People don't make other people their business so quick."

"...Yer right. An opportunity like this one comes only once in a lifetime. And here I am giving it to you. It's not my business if ya continue running numbers or do something else, but if I didn't see the potential, I wouldn't be here. Ya'd be in that cell waiting for next week to come."

The kid didn't speak 'cause it was true. Just looked through the ground like it had all the answers.

"...Give it a week to think about it. If ya still don't like it, y'can leave it. But if you want to take it, come to the gym, ask anybody there for Toza."

The kid walked fast now, but looked over at him one more time before crossing the street and disappearing.

He came to the gym three days later, a bag in hand. But he wasn't alone.

"This is my brother. If you want me, you gotta take him too. Not working with anybody else."

"Pro-bending teams come in a set of three."

"...Not working with another Earthbender."

The brother was a bit green. Could tell it in the face. Baby face. Wide, doe-eyed. Was excited about being there. But his body was broad; arms thick, muscle being made. Earthbender. Stepped with the heel and followed through on the toe—quick-footed, like his brother. Taught to fight like his brother. There was potential there too.

"...Okay. Now, I talked to the shirts that own the Pro-Bending Arena. They got space from back when they used to have fighters stay in the arena. Big enough for both of ya. Do odd jobs here and there and any other place ya can find, they take some of that money for rent. Five-hundred yuans for both of you. No money for food, but I want you healthy—so I'll be feeding ya.

"Y'll learn the rules and train the way I was trained, no questions except for when I say something and ya don't get it. But get it the first time 'cuz I hate repeating myself. Y'll see the matches—see who's good and who's not. Y'll learn to tell the difference. Read em before the bell even rings."

"Okay."

He pointed to the younger one, "Y'll learn to hide those expressions of yers. I can read yer face with my eyes closed."

The older brother didn't like that, didn't like the insult to his blood. He'd have to learn to let his brother defend himself.

The younger one got it already, nodded, focused his gaze. "Okay."

"...One last thing. You," he pointed to the older brother, " yer name."

"Mako."

"Mako. Yer changing careers, Mako. Y'want ya brother beside ya, that's two years of training tops. That means no bullshit. I don't want the last job ya had coming to my doors. So before y'step any further into my gym, ya tell me where you left yer business."

He looked at the man and nodded. "I told the guy I worked for I wasn't running numbers for him anymore. He said okay. Gave me my last cut and let me go."

"...Okay. Get in'ere. Leave ya stuff in my office, down the hall, left. And then join me back there. That's the training room we'll be in in the evenings. Gotta test," he pointed to the younger brother, prompting for a name.

"Bolin."

"Bolin. We gotta test Bolin out before the day is up."

They followed directions, the younger rushing to put his stuff down, but the older lingered. "I went to the library to look you up, 'cuz I remember your name. Toza ay kay ay "Rocky Toza". My...dad used to talk about you. Used to say you were the best. You played your first game in front of the first Chief Beifong. That paper said she called you amazing."

The smile that came on Toza's smile was grizzled but pleased. He remembered that first crowning moment in his life. Bright lights, the girls that had lined up, the cactus juice afterwards, the satisfaction.

Mako bowed. "Thank you." He walked to the office.

These two they were his business now and he could tell already that they'd treat each other well.

The Bending Brothers' & Associaton

Just an origin story of how Mako and Bolin became The Bending Brothers. Tried to make Toza's point of view be a bit gruffer but I think I failed. But I think it's pretty good.