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Everyone inside the cells was stunned; many of them, like the old man, had been captured and torn away from their homes many, many years ago.
The uncertainty of not knowing whether their families—or even their homes—still existed gnawed at their minds. Sleepless nights and years of torture had allowed them no rest whatsoever.
But the words of this young man, whether arrogant or filled with pride, finally gave them something they had long been denied: peace. Their tribe—and perhaps their families—were already safe.
Without realizing it, tears began to fall uncontrollably.
"Thank you…"
"Thank you…" were the only words the prisoners could repeat as Sokka calmly walked toward the exit.
"That brat can't be the Tribal Chief," Gilak said irritably. "He's just a weak, inexperienced child. It must be a lie! The chief is Hakoda!"
Gilak could not accept that someone like that frail, half-dead boy could be the Chief—much less that he could save and reunite the South. To him, only Hakoda could do that, not a child who couldn't even tie a proper knot.
The man's fury echoed through the place—and at the same time, no one truly listened. They didn't want to believe him.
When I left the prison, I couldn't help but think about how easy this had been. Winning the loyalty of broken people is simple, but winning the loyalty of someone deeply rooted in tradition, like Gilak, is even easier. I only need to get him out of prison and show him my strength; with that, the rest of my father's warriors will follow me, Sokka thought.
The guard who had escorted me looked at me seriously and asked with authority:
"What did you talk about with them?"
"Is that something that concerns you?"
I asked irritably, lifting my gaze slightly toward him. Amused, I noticed a shiver run through his body.

The walk back to the tribe's plaza passed in desolate silence. The escorting soldier—once proud and prejudiced—now followed behind cautiously.
Sokka, for his part, was thinking about how to proceed. Katara could deal with Pakku—not necessarily defeat him, but prove her worth, far more than the original ever had. Still, there were many variables to consider.
Persuading the old man now will be more difficult, considering they already know my combat skills surpass those of their so-called prodigy… and yet, it's perfect. The elder who trains the warriors will want revenge.
Who wouldn't? If a villager I considered backward came into my home and defeated Katara in combat, of course I'd want to test him myself. And if he's friends with Pakku, chances are they'll be together.
Sokka smiled to himself, entertained by the thought, until he spotted white hair approaching through the crowd.
"Yue!" he called, putting on an expression of concern mixed with quiet sadness.
The Northern princess, seeing his face, hurried toward him, her heart pounding with worry.
"What's wrong, Sokka? What happened at the prison?"
Sokka looked at her, then at the guard, who was startled by the sudden change in demeanor. Yue, unaware of what had happened earlier, assumed Sokka simply didn't want to speak in front of him.
"Please, leave us alone," Yue ordered the soldier. He bowed respectfully and departed.
"I'm sorry you're seeing me like this," Sokka said as he wiped small tears from his eyes.
Seeing him like that, the Northern princess smiled softly. Was it love, or sympathy? She didn't know which feeling it was—only that her heart softened.
"Don't apologize for this, Sokka. Tell me—what's wrong? Maybe I can help."
Sokka looked at her, and a small smile replaced his sorrowful expression.
"It's my people, Yue. The prisoners who came with the false Avatars are from the South. They… they were captured by the Fire Nation a long time ago, and now they're…"
Yue listened in disbelief. Her father had mentioned his suspicions about the captured waterbenders, but hearing it confirmed made her feel sick—especially when she saw the fury tightening Sokka's brow.
"Everything will be alright, Sokka. Everything will be fine. Maybe there's something I can do to help you," Yue offered without hesitation.
The young man from the South smiled inwardly, touched by emotion. This young princess truly wanted to help—but it was still too soon.
"No, Yue," Sokka said, shaking his head. "If you do that, they might call you a traitor—or mad—for acting without proof…"
"They won't!" Yue snapped, irritated. "I'm the princess, and you are the proof."
"Yue… I'm an outsider. I'm from the South. My word doesn't carry weight in matters like this."
The young princess looked at him sadly. She wanted to tell him he was wrong—but she knew he wasn't, and that truth only angered her more.
"It's alright, Yue," Sokka said with a gentle smile as he touched her cheek. "Please, don't worry. I… I'll handle this somehow. I just…"
He fell silent, struggling to say his next words.
"Please… don't tell anyone they're from my tribe. Please."
"Alright, Sokka. Don't worry. I won't tell anyone. They'll be safe—truly."
Sokka looked into her eyes and smiled, a smile filled with genuine happiness.
"Thank you, Yue. Truly."
The gratitude in my voice was real—and I was genuinely surprised when warm arms wrapped around me.
"Everything will be alright."
"I know… but Yue, hey…" I tried to call out as discomfort began to creep in. "People are staring."
I noticed whispers spreading, filled with surprise and amusement.
Hearing the murmurs, Yue immediately pulled away, blushing deeply over what she'd done.
"I… I'll see you later, Sokka," the young princess said, embarrassed, before leaving.
Sokka laughed softly at the scene and began walking aimlessly.
Meanwhile, in the chief's office, the soldier who had escorted Sokka from the prison stood before Arnook.
"Did you find anything?" Arnook asked calmly as he reviewed several scrolls.
"No, I couldn't enter the cells with him. But when I asked what he talked about… well, he seemed irritated. It was… something."
The Chief looked at his soldier; it was obvious the memory of Sokka's reaction unsettled him.
"Anything else?" Arnook asked.
"Well… Yue spoke with him. And honestly, that Southerner seemed distressed."
"Hm… Then it seems they're not Water Tribe deserters. Most likely, they're prisoners from the South," Arnook said thoughtfully.
"Should we release them?"
The Chief fell silent, considering the situation.
"For now, no. We still don't know whether they're dangerous. For the time being, make sure the Avatar and his friends remain comfortable."
The soldier nodded respectfully to his Tribal Chief.
Elsewhere in the vast Northern Tribe, night fell. Sokka sat in the dining room of his temporary home, the table piled with food slowly shrinking as the young warrior ate.
Katara, seated across from him, wore a deep frown, her eyes red—it seemed she had cried in anger after her healing lessons.
"I don't understand how you can eat like that," his sister complained.
"Well, I'm hungry," Sokka replied with his mouth full.
Katara glared at him and picked up a piece of fish, examining it with disgust. "This is tasteless…"
Sokka laughed at her reaction. "Come on, five years ago we were eating things like this—worse, even."
Katara frowned. "Maybe. But that doesn't change the fact that this is awful. Even the fish you cooked during the journey tasted better than this."
Sokka smiled. "Yeah. Even if this food is bland, it's still food. And honestly, even if I want to spit it out, I don't feel like cooking."
"Please, Sokka. At least cook a fish," Katara pleaded.
"Nope. Eat it, or I will."
She stared at him intensely, hoping he'd change his mind—but when she realized he wouldn't, she began eating quietly.
"So, how did things go with the healers?" Sokka asked casually.
"Fine," she answered flatly.
"Uh-huh. Fine how? Did your skill improve at least?"
Katara fell silent, thinking. "Yeah… I guess. The water shines more now than before… though not as much as you do," she said, looking at him.
Sokka smiled confidently. "Well, little sister, if you want to shine like me, you need a lot of practice," he said, winking playfully.
Katara wrinkled her nose. "How do you do it? You didn't even have a master."
"I'm a once-in-a-generation talent," he joked. "But honestly—if you want to be the best, talent isn't enough. You need to understand the human body, how it works… just like waterbending. Knowledge matters."
This time, Sokka spoke seriously, his eyes reflecting memories of his past life—his studies of the human body when he volunteered in dangerous zones, and his deep understanding of waterbending drawn from the Avatar series he once watched.
Katara looked at him and nodded. She knew her waterbending came from the spirits—and she also knew it had limits. As she looked at her brother's scars, sadness filled her eyes, and she understood that perhaps that was where his knowledge of the human body truly came from.
"But they won't let me progress, they won't—"
"Hi!" Aang interrupted excitedly.
"Katara, Sokka! Master Pakku is amazing. He's really good at teaching waterbending!"
"I can imagine," Sokka said with a faint smile.
"Katara! I thought you'd come train with me," Aang added sadly, realizing he hadn't seen her anywhere.
"That old man won't teach me waterbending," Katara snapped. "He says women should only be healers!"
"What?" Aang asked, angered. "He has to teach you. You're really good, Katara."
"He will," Sokka cut in while chewing a piece of meat. "Not today, not tomorrow—but he will. For now, Katara will focus on her healing skills."
"But I can teach her what Master Pakku teaches me," Aang said with solemn determination.
"No," Sokka said flatly, killing Katara's rising hope.
"Why not, Sokka?!" his sister protested.
"Do you really think that old fox is stupid enough not to consider that?" Sokka replied. "The moment you step outside together to train, he'll stop you."
Aang fell silent at that. Defeated, he could do nothing but agree. He nodded slowly, as if accepting those words weighed more than they should have. He wanted to say something—promise he'd do something, that he'd find a way—but he didn't. He knew it would be an empty promise.
"I'm sorry, Katara…" he murmured at last, his voice low.
She didn't respond. She simply looked away.
The following days passed with a mechanical calm for Team Avatar—an artificial, forced calm, as if the Northern Tribe moved to the rhythm of a routine no one dared to question.
Katara woke every morning with growing resentment and melancholy. She dressed in silence, tied her hair with precise movements, and walked to the healing pavilion without meeting anyone's gaze. There, the elder healers watched her first with curiosity… and then with respect.
Her healing training became increasingly precise and meticulous. Her hands no longer trembled when touching open wounds; her breathing remained steady even in the face of bodies ravaged by combat or cold. Her new understanding of the human body—muscles, organs, blood flow—pushed her toward something different.
It wasn't combat. It wasn't what she had dreamed of… but it lit a dangerous spark.
"Slower," one of the elder healers instructed as Katara closed a deep wound. "Feel the water. Don't force it."
Katara obeyed. The water glowed softly, wrapping the damaged flesh with near-surgical precision.
"It's incredible…" another healer whispered. "She learns far too quickly."
As the days passed, healing mortal wounds ceased to be a risk for her. What once exhausted her now barely made her sweat. And that… that began to frighten her a little.
Aang, meanwhile, wasn't the same after learning Katara wouldn't be training with him.
Every morning he went to train with Pakku, but his energy dimmed a little more each day. His movements were still correct—even elegant—but something was missing. The natural fluidity he had when training with Katara, the childlike joy that made him stand out, had faded.
"Focus," Pakku growled as he effortlessly deflected a water strike. "Your form is weak."
"I'm sorry, Master Pakku…" Aang replied, lowering his head.
One day, after training, Aang gathered enough courage.
"Master Pakku…" he said cautiously. "Katara could learn a lot here. She's very talented. I could—"
The master's staff slammed hard against the ground.
"I have been clear!" Pakku roared, his face hardening. "Women do not train for combat. If I discover that you teach her even a single movement… I will stop training you as well."
Aang shrank back at the threat. He swallowed and nodded.
"I understand…"
And he never insisted again.
From then on, he trained diligently, obediently—but his eyes constantly wandered. He watched the male waterbenders, proud and confident, laughing among themselves after each session. Then he looked at the female healers, walking in neat lines, shoulders lowered, eyes filled with longing.
He watched them heal. He watched them step aside. He watched them accept.
And he could do nothing.
Or at least, that's what he believed.
From a distance, someone else was watching.
Sokka saw everything.
He saw Katara growing stronger each day, though not in the way she wanted. He saw Aang lowering his head, accepting threats, asking for permission. And it filled him with a mix of frustration and disdain.
Sokka remembered from books how Avatars had once been revered like kings—how their political influence surpassed that of any ruler, wherever they went.
But that had ended with Roku.
And so the young Southern warrior, leader of the South, spent his week training and enjoying himself.
In the mornings, he trained until his body burned. In the afternoons, he walked through the tribe as if it belonged to him—not with arrogance, but with a confidence that unsettled more than a few people.
He often took walks with Yue. They strolled between food stalls, shared simple meals, and from time to time, Sokka stopped to tell stories to small children—exaggerated adventures, impossible monsters, clumsy heroes who won by using their heads rather than brute strength.
The children laughed. The adults listened.
Quiet moments that reminded him of the peace of his tribe. Perhaps fleeting—but peace nonetheless.
And then the seventh day arrived.
When Sokka set foot on the training field, something was different.
The conversations didn't stop immediately, but they lowered. Laughter faded little by little. Gazes locked onto him with varying intensity: contained anger, poorly hidden envy, curiosity… and fear.
Since he had humiliated Hahn in combat, everyone's attitude had changed.
He was no longer the ignorant Southerner. No longer the amusing outsider.
Now, he was a dangerous unknown.
Contempt had turned into silent respect. No one wanted to test his strength in combat or exchange words with him unnecessarily.
Sokka noticed, of course.
He said nothing. He never did.
The clamor of the training field fell completely silent when they saw him train.
Not against a warrior. Not against several.
But against a massive, wild polar bear-dog.
The beast roared, throwing its full weight forward. Sokka dodged by inches, spun on himself, and used the creature's own momentum to slam it into the icy ground. The impact thundered across the field.
"He's completely insane…" a young man muttered, mouth agape, as the bear-dog rose only to take another direct blow to its side.
"Yeah…" another replied, smiling with a mix of awe and admiration. "It's incredible."
A man in his thirties, standing with several others, watched with absolute focus. He didn't shout. He didn't cheer. He analyzed.
"Did you see how he waited for the exact moment?" he said quietly.
That group was small—but consistent. Warriors who, almost unconsciously, had begun to imitate Sokka's movements. Occasionally they trained with spears alongside him, and though the young Southerner never called himself a master, he corrected stances, adjusted grips, pointed out mistakes with two precise words.
His energy and movements pushed them forward.
But not everyone watched with admiration.
From the edge of the field, a hard gaze cut through the scene.
Talik—the elder of the warriors.
The master in charge of combat training. The tribe's finest spearman, according to everyone.
His hands gripped his spear tightly, knuckles white. He didn't take his eyes off Sokka for a second. Every movement the young man made was evaluated—not as that of a student…
…but as a threat.
"This isn't training," he muttered disdainfully. "It's a circus."
One of the warriors hesitated before replying.
"But… no one else can do that, master."
Talik clenched his jaw.
"Precisely."
Because he knew it.
That Southerner was ruining his routine. His training.
The way the warriors looked. Who they listened to. Who they followed.
And Talik was not willing to allow it.
"Do you think this is a joke?" the old man asked Sokka, who had just finished fighting the beast.
Sokka tilted his head, as if he didn't quite understand the words.
"Do you think playing with beasts is entertaining?" Talik continued. "You're mocking my authority as combat master, and I will not allow—"
"Hey, easy there, old man," Sokka interrupted calmly. "What's wrong with training against a beast? I doubt there's anyone stronger here to train with me. I'm just trying not to hurt anyone by accident."
He said it with a relaxed, almost careless smile.
Talik frowned.
Was he saying that none of the men present were worth facing him?
Sokka watched him closely, amusement growing within him. He knew instantly that the old man had caught the insult hidden beneath those seemingly concerned words.
"Don't worry," the young man added serenely. "I'm about to leave anyway."
Talik watched him walk away, gripping his spear tightly, holding back the urge to strike. That calm arrogance was driving him mad.
How could a useless peasant think himself so important?
Walking calmly, Sokka planned to meet his sister in the Tribe's plaza.
Just recalling the elder's expressions still amused him.
The stiffness of his posture, the vein throbbing at his temple, the way he had gripped his spear as if he were about to snap it in two.
Ignoring his own amusement, he lifted his gaze and spotted Katara in the distance.
He saw her practicing waterbending at a large stone fountain. For days now, she had begun training with greater discipline, shaping the water into increasingly defined forms: brief whips, rings spinning upon themselves, small columns rising and falling with precision.
Sokka could see it clearly.
Katara's chi was becoming more refined, more stable. Her training with the healers had borne fruit, and she seemed to have reached the limit of what healing could offer her in terms of control. From there on, only one thing remained… to move forward—or to stagnate.
—What do you think you're doing?!
The furious shout cracked across the plaza like a whip.
Sokka turned immediately, and Katara jumped slightly, startled, losing control of the water for a second.
—I told you not to practice waterbending! —Pakku roared, his voice heavy with fury restrained for far too long.
—No! —Katara shouted, and for the first time, her voice did not tremble.
The anger she had suppressed for days, weeks, years, finally erupted.
—You arrogant, miserable old man! —she continued—. You refused to teach me and forbade Aang from teaching me, but you have no right to stop me from training on my own!
The water around her vibrated, trembling in time with her rage.
The surrounding tribe fell into an overwhelming silence.
Whispers died out. Eyes locked onto the scene.
Not only because of the presence of the great Master Pakku, but because a woman—a foreigner—had just openly defied him without lowering her gaze.
And the old man was no exception.
His face, usually calm and unshakable, hardened. Surprise flickered across his features… followed almost immediately by an icy fury.
Pakku stepped forward.
The ground itself seemed to harden beneath his presence.
—Do not raise your voice at me again, girl —he said coldly—. The rules of this tribe are not meant to be questioned by outsiders. You will obey.
Katara clenched her fists.
—I owe you no obedience —she said, breathing hard—. I never accepted your rules.
Some people stopped to watch. Others pretended not to hear.
The healers, however, were watching.
—You are a Southern woman —Pakku spat—. Your place is healing.
Katara felt something inside her break.
—My place is wherever I decide! —she shouted—. I have fought, I have bled, and I have saved lives while you sit and decide who deserves to learn!
The murmuring grew.
Sokka clenched his fists.
He had seen that look in the South. The look that says: be grateful we let you exist.
—Katara! —Pakku roared—. Lower your voice!
—Why? —she took a step forward—. Because it bothers you when I contradict you? Or because I'm a woman?
—Enough!
Pakku stepped forward, rage twisting his face—until a spear slammed into the ground in front of him, halting his advance toward Katara.
This old man… This miserable old fool thinks he can treat her like just another sheep in this stupid herd.
—Do not speak to her like that —Sokka said, stepping between them as he took hold of his spear.
Pakku looked at him as if he had just stepped in filth.
—Stay out of this, Southerner.
Sokka smiled, amused.
—You know what the worst part of your tradition is? —he spoke slowly, jaw tight—. It isn't even useful.
A murmur rippled through the women.
—We're at war —he continued—. And yet you decide that half your tribe doesn't deserve to learn how to fight.
Katara glanced at him, surprised… but she didn't step away.
—Healing is enough for them —Pakku replied coldly.
Katara let out a bitter laugh.
—Is that what you'll tell them when a firebender attacks and kills them because they can't defend themselves?
The silence was brutal.
Sokka felt something burn in his chest. The pride he felt was indescribable; it seemed his sister had finally learned how to wield words properly.
—In the South, we don't have these stupid traditions —he continued—. Anyone is free to fight there.
He looked at the women around them.
—And we survive because we forbid ourselves nothing.
Talik appeared then, his spear striking the ground.
—This is a disgrace —he growled—. Two Southern children thinking they have the right to question centuries of tradition.
Sokka turned toward him, eyes dark.
—Tradition? —he repeated—. You call deliberately weakening yourselves tradition?
—Watch your words! —Talik snapped—. You're nothing but a lucky villager.
Sokka smiled.
But it wasn't a kind smile.
—Maybe —he said—. But that villager already defeated your best warrior.
An uneasy murmur spread.
Several women didn't bother hiding their satisfaction.
—If tomorrow the Fire Nation crosses those walls —Sokka continued—, will you tell them to stay behind while you die?
He pointed at Katara.
—Or will you beg her to heal you when it's already too late?
Pakku was red with fury.
—If a tradition weakens you, it should be destroyed —Sokka shot back, looking at the crowd—. You come preaching superiority when all you do is refuse progress, refuse to move forward, and willingly lose potential great waterbending masters!
—You are a peasant! —Talik roared.
—I am a warrior! —Sokka replied—. A man who does not cower or tremble at fighting alongside women! I don't hide behind stupid traditions!
—Enough!
Pakku's shout silenced everyone in the area.
Looking around, I couldn't help but smile in satisfaction. People had begun to see my point—and more importantly, they had begun to think that Pakku and Talik were truly cowards for opposing Katara.
—There is no point arguing with ignorant youths about civilized rules.
—Civilized? —I replied—. Please. That stupidity was probably invented by some arrogant idiot who was defeated by a woman hundreds of years ago.
Pakku and Talik stared at me; their furrowed brows betrayed that my words had struck deeper than anything else.
—Fight us. If we win, you will teach Katara waterbending—and all the female waterbenders as well.
With this provocation, I didn't expect to be some kind of white knight or champion of women's rights; however, helping them would earn me respect and reputation in this place—something I sorely lacked.
—I have no need to do this —Pakku said before turning to leave alongside Talik.
—Are you afraid to fight a woman?! —Katara called out, her voice echoing across the plaza.
It seemed the clever girl had finally entered the game.
Pakku laughed with amused arrogance.
—And what do I gain from defeating two villagers?
—If you win, we'll stop bothering you, and I'll do whatever you want.
—Do you really think that's enough? —Talik asked with amusement—. What use is having one extra brat?
—Do you think you're clever, old man? —I asked, not hiding my irritation—. Of course you'd want more. Fine. If you beat me, I'll give you gold—more than you can imagine.
The two old masters looked at each other. Expectation flickered across their faces for a brief moment.
—Perfect. Let the fight—
—Begin! —Talik shouted excitedly as he lunged at me with his spear.
There was no time for further words.
My danger sense exploded like a lash against the back of my neck.
Left. Low sweep. Lethal.
I moved before I even thought. Talik's spear whistled through the space my leg had occupied a moment earlier, kicking up a cloud of frost from the ground. He was fast—far too fast for his age. He didn't attack with brute force; he attacked with intent, with tight angles, aiming to disarm, break balance, kill.
So this is the North's "warrior master"…
I planted the blunt end of my spear into the ground and pivoted around it to evade a second strike aimed straight at my neck. The blow passed so close I felt the air slice my skin.
—Surprised, brat? —Talik growled as he chained a third attack without giving me room to breathe—. You have no technique. Just clumsy movements.
Clumsy, my ass.
I answered with speed, attacking in a straight line. Talik blocked effortlessly, deflecting my spear with an elegant twist of his wrist. The impact sent a vibration up my arms.
He's better technically. Much better.
But I was faster.
And stronger.
A few meters away, Katara was already fighting Pakku.
—Focus! —the old man roared as he hurled a compressed wave of water like a hammer.
Katara rolled backward, barely managing to raise a wall of water that shattered on impact. The blow slammed her into the ground, tearing the air from her lungs.
—I will not back down! —she shouted, forcing herself upright in fury.
Her hands moved fluidly. The water from the nearby fountain rose obediently, swirling around her body like a living whip. Pakku frowned.
She's good, I thought. Very good.
Katara struck first, the water whip slicing through the air in a precise arc. Pakku froze it instantly, shattering it into fragments of ice.
—Good control —he admitted coldly—. But you lack discipline.
Katara clenched her teeth.
She condensed the water in an instant, forming a dense mass rising from the ground. With an elegant, circular motion, she unleashed a rain of ice discs—thin as blades, fast as bullets.
Pakku's eyes widened in genuine surprise.
He hadn't expected that.
The old man raised an ice barrier, but several discs managed to scrape his shoulder and face, leaving visible red lines.
—Tch…
Katara breathed heavily, sweat and water mixing on her brow. She didn't have Pakku's experience. She didn't have his refined techniques.
But she had instinct.
And fury.
Talik attacked again, this time with a direct thrust aimed at my heart.
Now.
I twisted my spear, deflecting his, and stepped in close, striking with the shaft straight into his floating rib.
The impact was sharp. Brutal.
Talik grunted, stepping back only slightly… but he didn't fall.
—If I wanted to, you'd already be dead from that strike —I said arrogantly.
He's reading me, I thought. Looking for my pattern—but keeping him angry gives me the advantage.
He changed his rhythm. Shorter attacks. Less wide. More precise. His spear danced like an extension of his body.
If this continues, he'll box me in.
My danger sense screamed again.
I leapt backward just as Talik shifted angles, launching a low thrust followed by an upward sweep that would have split my abdomen open.
Old bastard…
—You learned to fight on your own —Talik sneered—. It shows. Plenty of intent, little form.
—And yet you still haven't touched me —I replied, smiling.
It annoyed him.
I felt it.
---
—Sokka! —I heard Katara shout.
I turned just in time to see Pakku break through her defense and send ice spikes erupting from the ground, forcing her to jump. One grazed her leg, slicing her skin.
That was too much.
Something inside me tightened.
—Switch! —I shouted without thinking.
Katara reacted instantly. We crossed paths in motion, as if we'd practiced it a thousand times.
I trust her, and she trusts me.
Pakku greeted me without a word, raising an ice wall that exploded forward into razor-sharp shards.
My danger sense shrieked louder than ever.
Lethal. Lethal. Lethal.
Gripping my spear tightly, I spun it as the frozen spikes dissolved into cold frost.
—Do you think I'll treat you like a child? —Pakku spat—. You're nothing but an insolent Southerner.
—And you're an old man clinging to stupid traditions —I replied as I rose—. Watch closely.
I attacked in a straight, rapid advance.
Pakku raised another defense… and I struck with the shaft of my spear, straight into his wrist.
The crack was unmistakable.
The old man staggered back, shocked.
—See? —I said coldly—. If I'd used the blade, you'd already have lost your hand. Don't overestimate me.
His eyes burned with rage.
In the distance, Katara was fighting Talik.
The spear master underestimated her.
A grave mistake.
Katara moved like living water, slipping in and out of spear range, her body moving with almost unnatural agility. She blocked, dodged, struck with knees, elbows, fists.
My hand-to-hand training had truly paid off. In technique, she was no inferior to Ty Lee.
She used water to propel herself, to stop, to change direction. She had no formal techniques, but her control was flawless.
—Damn brat! —Talik growled as the water whip coiled around his spear and wrenched it aside.
—I am not a brat! —she snapped, slamming him into the ground with a brutal pull.
The fight intensified.
Ice against steel. Water against speed. Experience against instinct.
And slowly… the tribe's silence broke.
The women of the North watched closely.
Some with admiration.
Others with restrained fury.
Because they saw it.
Because they could no longer ignore it.
And Pakku knew it.
Talik knew it.
They had underestimated us—and now they were paying the price.
Ice exploded in front of me.
I didn't retreat.
I advanced.
My spear spun in my hands as I struck the ice stakes one after another—not with the blade, but with pure force. The first impact made them tremble. The second cracked them. The third shattered them into fragments that flew like shrapnel.
—What the hell…?! —Pakku spat.
I leapt through the debris, knee tucked in, smashing through another barrier trying to rise from the ground. Ice crunched beneath the impact.
Don't give him space. Don't give him time.
Pakku raised his arms, and the fountain's water rose into a solid wall.
Now.
I released the spear for an instant and drove my fist—charged with chi—straight into the center of the wall.
The impact thundered.
The water wall split in two, the backlash slamming into Pakku and tearing a grunt from him as he staggered back, the ice on his shoulder cracking and revealing an open wound.
—You're not… just a warrior… —he muttered, breathing heavily.
—I never was —I replied, reclaiming my spear.
—Focus, Pakku! —Talik roared from the other side of the field.
Katara was on top of him.
Literally.
She slid beneath a sweeping strike, hit his knee, then his side, and before Talik could react, the water whip snapped around his arm and smashed him into the ground.
The old man gasped.
Good. Very good.
But Talik was no novice.
He rolled across the ground and launched a low thrust that Katara barely evaded. The tip grazed her side, tearing cloth and skin.
Katara hissed in pain—but didn't retreat.
—Don't you dare look at me like that! —she shouted—. I am not weak!
The water answered.
It rose behind her, compacting, and in one fluid motion she unleashed another volley of ice discs—faster, sharper.
This time, they didn't just graze.
Two struck Talik's arm.
One hit his thigh.
The spear master staggered back, surprised… and irritated.
I underestimated her, he realized. Mistake.
—Switch! —I shouted again.
Katara was already moving.
We crossed paths once more, without looking at each other.
Talik greeted me with a thrust straight at my throat.
High.
I tilted my head just enough and spun, using the momentum to smash the spear shaft into his wrist.
He blocked with a smile.
Now I have you, he thought.
He attacked in perfect sequence. Three strikes. High. Mid. Low.
That's his pattern, the old lancer thought.
I broke it.
I released the spear—attacking with fist, leg, then elbow.
Talik barely managed to raise his spear to block when my kick slammed into his chest, sending him flying several meters back.
What…?
I caught the spear midair.
—Don't follow my rhythm —I said calmly—. You'll lose it.
Talik shifted tactics. Short attacks. Defensive. Trying to read me.
Now.
I reversed my grip on the spear. Struck with the butt, then the middle, then the body of the weapon itself, mixing in punches and kicks, breaking his guard bit by bit.
Every time he thought he understood me…
I changed.
Faster.
Stronger.
More aggressive.
The final blow was brutal.
I stepped in close and drove the spear shaft straight into his sternum, chi-loaded.
The sound was dull.
Talik was hurled backward and landed flat on his back, his spear rolling far out of reach.
He didn't rise.
He only breathed… with difficulty.
Absolute silence followed.
When I turned, Katara was retreating.
Pakku—injured, bleeding—kept advancing.
His control was flawless even weakened. Every attack from Katara was contained, redirected, punished.
—You are strong —Pakku admitted—. But you are not ready.
He launched an ice thrust.
Katara blocked—but the impact threw her off balance and tore loose her hair.
The necklace fell to the ground.
Pakku saw it, shock filling his face.
—That necklace… —he murmured.
Katara looked down at her favorite accessory.
—It belonged to my mother…
—No… —Pakku denied—. I made it for her. For Kanna.
Shock filled my sister's face—but there was no time for that.
Katara attacked.
Pakku reacted on instinct, blocking, countering, driving her back.
The difference was still there.
Clear.
Painful.
And then I arrived.
I intercepted an ice spike with my spear and shattered it midair.
—This ends now —I said.
Pakku looked up.
—Two against one… —he muttered.
Katara stepped beside me.
We breathed in unison.
And attacked.
Water and steel.
Motion and force.
I shattered.
She flowed.
Pakku resisted.
But this time…
It wasn't enough.
When he fell, the ice melted around him.
The fight was over.
—We defeated you! —I declared proudly—. A woman bested you more than once! —I said, pointing at Katara—. If this doesn't prove your traditions are stupid and regressive, then it only proves you lie to yourselves.
My voice echoed through the crowd. The women watched us with eyes full of hope. But not everyone did.
—If you still think I'm wrong, then come to me and I'll show you who truly is! —I shouted, feeling the fury simmer in the air.
Gripping my spear tightly, my breathing remained calm despite the battle.
—Damn Southerner! I'll teach you your place!
Countless similar shouts rose around me. One by one, I struck down the proud warriors of the North until no one dared challenge me further.
—That is enough! —a voice heavy with authority rang out.
I turned toward its owner. Arnook stood before the crowd, accompanied by Yue and Aang, whom I assumed had fetched him the moment he realized what was happening.
—Chief Arnook —I said, gesturing toward Pakku and Talik—. Those two tried to impose their rules on my sister. They wouldn't even allow her to practice waterbending alone. That's why I challenged them.
The Northern chieftain looked at the fallen masters, then at the countless warriors on the ground.
—And how do you explain them? —he asked.
—Pakku and I made a wager —I replied—. If they won, I would give them gold and do whatever they wished. But if I won, they would teach my sister waterbending—and the women as well. —I bowed slightly as I said it, and the gesture filled me with disgust.
—Father… —Yue said emotionally.
—Denying women combat training is a centuries-old tradition. We cannot simply—
—No! —the healers shouted in unison.
—We deserve to fight! —We deserve to learn and defend our tribe! —We deserve to fight for our lives!
The central plaza filled with shouts and protests. The oppressed women had finally seen hope in our fight—and they had no intention of letting it slip away.
—Sokka and Katara showed us how wrong our traditions are! —We want to fight!
—Father, please… —Yue pleaded. From her tone, it was clear she had been trying to change this for a long time.
Arnook looked at Katara and me. His eyes swept across his people, filled with thought.
—For years I have doubted this tradition —he finally said—, wondering whether it should remain or not. But today I have decided. This young Southern warrior has shown us what a waterbender is truly capable of. Therefore…
He raised his voice.
—The old tradition denying women combat training is hereby abolished!