The White Lotus Society's little campground (or "Old People Camp", as Bumi liked to call it) was buzzing with activity as everyone prepared for the coming battles. The air was thick with tension and anticipation, setting everyone on edge, creating a need for release.
It wasn't any wonder why Zuko, Katara, and Iroh broke into a heated skirmish.
Well, technically, it wasn't a battle so much as an overly intense sparring match Iroh had suggested to prepare the two for their fight against Azula.
Regardless of if it was serious or not, it definitely provided a much needed, exciting distraction.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Katara asked even as she took her position beside Zuko with sleeves of water ready on her arms. "What if someone gets hurt? My healing can only do so much."
"We'll do it Agni Kai style – first one in a vulnerable position loses," Zuko said, offering a smile as he moved into his stance. To Iroh, he asked, "Sound fair?"
Chuckling, the old man said, "I don't see what difference it makes. I'm still outnumbered and you're still outmatched."
"What was that saying you used to tell me? 'He who has the biggest head is most top-heavy and doomed to fall'?"
Watching from the sideline, Sokka cupped both hands around his mouth, shouting, "Boo! No talking!"
"Shall we get on with it, then?"
"Let's."
In a blink, a vortex of firing was hurtling toward the duo and the small crowd around them erupted into cheers.
Katara responded with ease, her liquid sleeves shooting from her arms and expanding, dousing the flames with a hiss. From the thick cloud of steam that resulted tiny fireballs rocketed toward Iroh in rapid succession, each one skilfully deflected. When there was a break in the assault, Iroh shot two flames from the tips of his fingers, the force of their motion parting the smokescreen.
Dashing forward, Zuko used long, lashing whips of fire to keep his uncle at bay, his arms mimicking the graceful movements of Katara's waterbending. One whip came particularly close to Iroh, allowing him to grab and twist it, the action jerking Zuko closer. He tried to resist and hold his ground, not wanting to move into the dangerous territory of close-range combat, but lost his balance and came stumbling forward, tripping over his own feet.
Twin tendrils of water darted out, one catching Zuko around the waist while the other curved around him, cutting through the length of flame attaching him to Iroh.
Feet replanted firmly on the ground, Zuko glanced at his partner long enough to bark, "Katara!"
Then he resumed countering their opponent's attacks.
With a nod, Katara responded without hesitation. Her arms moved in a blur, seeming to weave together invisible strings as she pulled the water from the grass behind Iroh. Hands pausing above her head, she splayed her fingers and tugged down in a harsh swoop, the semi-circle of moisture at Iroh's back hardening, sharpening.
For a moment, they came to a standstill, Zuko closing in on his front with flaming-fists raised, Katara trapping him at the rear with a deadly ring of icicles. The cheering onlookers fell mostly silent, a few murmurs rippling through the crowd as they wondered if this was the end of the fight.
Staring at his nephew and the girl he had once deemed an enemy, Iroh found himself at a loss for words. He, the Dragon of the West, the man who had laid siege to Ba Sing Se for six-hundred days, had been put at a disadvantage in less than ten minutes. Zuko and Katara had fought so in synch – worked together so seamlessly – that they had been able to take on a firebender of his calibre while hardly breaking a sweat.
A smirk split across Zuko's face. "We win."
Author's Notes: There's awesomeness going on at my house right now, so I didn't spend much time editing. Sorry.
Rhythm: A regular or harmonious pattern created by lines, forms, and colors in painting, sculpture, and other visual arts.
Disclaimer: "Avatar: The Last Airbender" and all of its contents are property of Nickelodeon, which I am in no way associated with.
