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Chapter Text

The boys and I are gambling- or rather swindling, since we aren't actually taking chances or risking anything, duh!- our way through this Fire Nation town with abandon.

Oh Sweet Spirits, get a load of those chumps!

This is a hoot!

Aang, at my suggestion, attempts to use airbending to imitate my moving the various dice to the desired numbers- no one can see his bending after all. He makes his itty bitty circles once, twice, three times. It briefly appeases the angered crowd to see us lose a few times.

But then he's successful some, and we three go back to camp. Katara is off stewing somewhere. And by that I mean "sulking," not "making stew" like a cook or a mom. Ha ha! We plop down on the volcanic, slightly sooty earth laughing until we can't even breathe in his element properly. Aang, the goody-two-shoes finally pulls something off!

He insists that he's always been up for a little mischief, and Sokka says 'yeah, sure' with sarcasm, a subtype of lie that I'm more than familiar with, due to my particular experiences growing up.

Aang repeats himself. Okay, okay, Sokka agrees. It's true. Aang's gotten them in more trouble than he'd care to recall because of his antics and games and now the shoe is on the other foot and Aang is protesting his innocence. It's not as bad as all that! Honestly!

The good-natured argument, or game, really, because they both know it's a joke, goes in circles around me and I just smile. My jaw and cheeks are cramped and painful from smiling so wide. This is the life.

Who knew? You can't say Aang and I have a ton in common. Though- That causes something to occur to me as I'm huffing and winding down from the excitement of friendship and debauchery- What, don't think I use words like debauchery? As if. I was homeschooled by the best tutors money can buy.

"Hey, Aang, how old were you when you earned your master tattoos?"

His heart does this funny little lurch and I know he's remembering people who are one hundred years gone and a time when the world wasn't so "completely crazy" as he sometimes puts it- unbalanced- and I suddenly feel a load of guilt for ruining the awesome moment so thoroughly.

See, I was reining champion at twelve years old. That means I won the title at eleven. And to call the years it took to get there an uphill battle would be an understatement of mountainous magnitude.

Problem is, ask Aang any personal questions and he's likely to get quiet and subdued while he answers. I prefer the fun, energetic side of him myself, though the Water Tribe duo took me aside early on and told me not to be shy if I'm curious. I replied that I'm never shy about anything.

It was a lie, looking back on it, of course, but, whatever, close enough. Hyperboles are another subtype of lie that don't always explicitly show up on my radar.

. . . Katara has frequently told Aang, it helps, talking about it.

I wasn't so sure he completely agreed with her, 'cause he avoids things so much in true airbender fashion, but lately, he's been pretty okay.

I just wanted to know how old Aang was when he earned his title of Master.

There was an Earth Rumbler who had a tattoo, too . . .

"It was just after my twelfth birthday." Aang said. His birthday is at the very beginning of autumn, the season most Air Nomads come into this world. Ugh. Sozin's Comet. What a birthday present, right? "Why?" he asked.

I didn't want to explain myself. " . . . I just wondered, is all." I lied evasively. I was younger when I accomplished a comparable- But the satisfaction is underwhelming. I don't think it was worth losing the moment. Or hurting him.

Luckily, soon enough, we three musketeers are back to our present story.

HA! So many of their hearts feel like they've just run a race. Serves you right for running a rigged ratsnake race!

. . . They called me a cheater in the Earth Rumble when I wouldn't face opponents head on. When I used my own, invented techniques and style. When I used minimal force and well placed timing to take down my opponents, instead of strength. They nicknamed me things like Hoodwink and Deceiver.

No. "Nickname" is really too friendly a term.

Finally Xin Fu settled on Bandit. Guess he thought he was clever with the alliteration and the stupid. vindictive. constant. reminder.

You are blind.

In one of her first matches, the young girl's call is not entirely unanticipated. Her out of the blue arrival at the ring was what was unexpected.

I forfeit!

You can't do that.

She has to. She can't go home with an injury. Even a minor one. They can't know.

That's, right, run away! The Runaway!

Hoodwink! You're as small as a wink! The crowd's 'boos' assault her hearing.

You're all ignorant anyway! You thickheads wouldn't understand even if I did explain!

She voices none of that aloud. What she says is, "I don't care about your dumb rules! I'll do what I want!"

. . . could I even explain? . . .

. . . do I even understand it myself? . . .

I have a secret to keep.

The badgermoles that they use to clear off the ring after each round aren't like her teachers. They're bred to be small, several generations sculpted and forged and shaped and molded to be naturally domesticated and docile. She likes them, all the same. They smell like moonpeach shampoo, and their fur is glossy and combed. But their moist noses and tickly whiskers that brush her face are the same, at least. They're young, about eight feet tall, because a regular, untamed, full-grown badgermole would have trouble even turning around on the ring, and are more unruly anyway. Hippo, the name of another contender, likes them too, but doesn't speak to her much. He doesn't talk much in general. He does say, however, that she uses funny fancy words.

The others notice too. To fit in she desperately modifies her unusually wide vocabulary for her age, borne of endless days cooped up with some servant reading to her instead of "wasting time" going to school. She has to at first consciously pick short terms- none over three syllables, for a start. She convinces herself she didn't like any of the stories, histories or subjects anyway.

She didn't.

To herself, she practices eliding words and roughing up phrases. Her naturally absorbed voice, the smooth, polished, proper tone has to go.

And for once, she's really certain that this loss isn't missed.

Certainty is a nice feeling.

She verbally sidesteps questions about her background after the matches. She realizes belatedly that she thinks of it as "the mansion," not home, because she's evading questions there, too.

She has two secrets to keep.

She studies her opponents raptly. She has to be absolutely sure beforehand. Her first victories are laughably easy, and not much fun. The stalemates are better. She continues to back out in the middle of matches if it looks like she'll have a hard time. Baby! Baby! Baby! As much as she might dream about going all out, standing up tall, taking a little punishment, she can't chance it or she won't be able to go to the next match at all. She likes them too much to let that happen.

She takes in a deep breath of the place through her nose. Sweat and buttery popcorn have never smelled so good.

After one match, Xin Fu, the announcer who runs the place, beckons her aside to pay her earnings.

"I know who you are, now, Bei Fong."

Ice goes down her spine.

"H-how-"

"I had someone tail you, little girl. I want you out of my ring. If I were stupid enough to want the most influential man in the region enraged at me for allowing his daughter to be hurt, I'd run a different kind of ring."

The child has no idea what he means. "Huh?"

"Master Lao leaves my gambling circuit alone, and I want it to stay that way. I see you around here again, and Daddy Dearest'll find out. Got it?"

No, she's getting better! It can't be for nothing.

"I'll tell him it was my idea if something happens!" the girl insisted. "Honest! I'll tell him you didn't know who I was! Not to blame you! No one will come after you! Please!"

Xin Fu considered. "Fine. If you turn over all your winnings to me."

Is that all? The child has been throwing it away on gambling on the outskirts of town or burying it. What use does she have for money? She can't take the evidence back to the mansion.

She simply wants to feel the excitement of the next match. That's all.

"Sure."

It becomes a kind of game, thinking of ways to explain and shrug off and avoid. Questions and pressure to learn at "the mansion" increase because her accent and vocabulary have inexplicably dipped and she's unable to hide the spots of dirt and earth because she can't even see them herself. Her father goes on a tirade and dutifully fires servants he suspects of rubbing off on her behavior and causing her to skin her knees and scrape her hands. Some of the servants she kinda liked, but she says nothing. Daddy says they can be easily replaced. Therefore, people aren't even close to worth giving up her matches.

Secretly, she overhears her father sigh and worry about her and say at least they probably never have to deal with a blind girl being drawn to and "playing with matches."

Her heartbeat speeds up in wariness before she remembers the homophones and she hides the brief thrill by play-pretend-meekly going back to her studies.

But what she really wants to learn and practice is how to make her new sense clearer so she can walk around confidently like a sighted person, and stop asking for help from the servants. Her 'romps on the estate grounds' give her a chance to do so.

At night, she goes to the badgermoles, who pay little heed to the rising or setting sun, aside from avoiding the whirlwinds of wolfbats that exit when it gets dark. The child watches them communicating with wordless body language. They nip and squabble sometimes -Back off, give me my space- Power. Confidence. and take turns submitting in continuous exchange. She watches the pair drive off competitors and intruders of their species from their territory. She notices that her second mother is dominant over her partner. He submits more often than she does. It's puzzling. It's not like at the mansion, in many different ways. It's- An invisible-to-her screech, a flying beast, swoops down, and she screams in reply and her heart pounds as her surrogate parents move to defend her. The child cries and her heart pounds for a different reason when they pin the wolfbat down and dismember it. Rrrrip howwwwwl

She bolts.

Before the panicked girl reaches the mansion, she stumbles, falls hard, has to pause and wait for some semblance of rationality to return, but all that serves to do is bring up relevant information, she recalls learning that the poor wolfbat is nearly blind, too, like her, and the rationality flees once more.

Her parents suffer and lose sleep worrying about her- she can hear them pacing in the halls- when she staunchly refuses to come out of the safety of her bedroom.

Leave me alone.

She changes her clothes and buries the dirty ones. No one will notice one outfit missing out of so many.

"The big-bad-badgermoles- who earthbend the tunnels, hate the wolfbats, but lo-ove the sounds!"

-In the present, I wince a little when Aang, blissfully unaware, sings the phrase in the cheerful ditty the other nomads taught him in order to retaliate and annoy Sokka-

In the past, Hippo wonders aloud in stilted single syllables- why you no pet them?- why she doesn't touch the ring's animals. Leave me alone, stupid. Even though she's plenty intelligent, she doesn't have the personal awareness or right presence of mind from her scare to see the hurt in the slumping of his shoulders.

She's both ashamed and glad to fall into her mother's arms at the end of a long week of holing herself up in her room via earthbending for days on end and sneaking out, letting them think she's still inside. She doesn't try to detangle whether she's ashamed because she trembling and even needs the contact so badly in the first place, or ashamed because her mother can tell something's horribly wrong, is asking, is begging her- sweetie, please, for mommy- what is it?- but she doesn't tell her what's wrong.

She'd be in trouble for disobeying so badly and completely if she did that, wouldn't she?

So, she lets her mother and father believe that she is simply needy and clingy and reserved. It's the only explanation. That's just the way she is. It's hard being blind, poor darling.

You are blind.

We forgive you. We understand, honey. It's honesty, because they don't know they don't actually understand. Their already strong parental instinct to shelter her increased degree by degree.

-her mother will call her honey, 'Baby' one too many times, and she'll snap viciously, don't call me that, only to apologize sincerely and docilely later on for the mistaken association-

-They have already very, very patiently begun to nudge her onto her own two feet. Later they'll say, be a little more independent, darling. Just a little. A proper lady doesn't hug, she curtsies. No touching-

-why not?-

-swallowing the venomous question, because they are her parents and they are 'right,' she instead unintentionally telegraphs politely with her stony silence, don't speak to me unless you absolutely need to, don't inquire after my feelings, it only makes me upset, I won't respond, and if I do I will be angry, please leave me alone, it's what I want-

-so they do what she wants-

-'they turned away, they left me alone' is what she carries with her, that's what's at the forefront of her mind, because it hurts, even though-

She works on her sight. It's still vague, but she somehow knows it can stretch more.

The child tries to fit the words together- to describe it. But it's hard.

You have such an imagination, her parents say. She's still little. Not only in their eyes, but in reality. We're so glad you enjoy all the stories we read you. Want to sing a song?

This wasn't a game anymore, but they weren't aware that it ever was. The unlikelihood of-

. . . even with all her knowledge . . .

. . . the words aren't even suited to the purpose in the first place- they were made and are used by people not like her . . .

The miscommunication is not so much a betrayal, because the words were never her friends in the first place, right?

Earth is a head on, straightforward, honest element, Deciever, they say. You're taking advantage of it. You're an earthbender! A plate pusher! Why don't you act like it?

She tries to block out all the jeers in order to wait and listen for the important things. The right timing. She can't make mistakes. She's got to nail it.

Even if she thinks she knows- she sees clearly- she's almost sure she could win with a bit of elbow grease and a few bruises, she has to back out. Again.

You have no place here! You have no business using earth this way! Even that weird way you hold your hands says "underhanded!" What, you have a problem with using fists? Afraid of breaking one of those delicate little fingers?

The child uses swear words that they've taught her and her parents have told her not to and yells back, shut up, simpletons, leave me alone! The strange, different, non-fitting word slips in haste. To herself, she thinks, it's just necessary- you're wrong- I'm not afraid- no- that's not it-

She isn't.

She doesn't like that word. Afraid. The other insults are bad, but that one is the worst.

Their harsh frustration converged on her. They menaced her. The jealousy was getting bad now because she won more often, and she continued to throw back words of a spoiled child with poor social skills. They could tussle and settle things with each other, and then reconcile. With her, they dealt damage with words because they simply could not touch her, inside the ring because she wouldn't let them and outside the ring because hitting a little blind girl without sufficient grounds was beneath even the roughest of them. She's untouchable. Because when the large, blurry figures got too close, she instinctively flinched from them. Even with her unique sight she was too young and too caught up in her own massive worries and way too inexperienced with people to notice the fleeting pity and embarrassment that they rapidly squashed under more anger.

She buries and hides her face into the willing, welcoming comfort in the crook of her mother's elbow.

Coward. What are you hiding? What is it? Who are you? If you weren't a girl, you know what I'd do to you! If you weren't blind! If. If. If. Bet you couldn't even take on my son in a fair fight. Wonder when you'll start fighting for real? When? Huh? Huh?

They collectively wore at her like a river against rock. But it wasn't even rock yet- it was only young ground, hardly far from recently being topsoil, not very compressed or hard, yet it had some resilience left-

Almost as a last ditch effort she finally does offer them some truth.

You learned from wild badgermoles? Yeah right.

Please believe me.

The story about the 'boy who cried wolfbat' seems to have warped its way into reality.

LIAR.

-it's true-

COWARD!

-I'm not-

SNEAK!

-leave me alo-

CHEAT!

BLIND BANDIT!

"The Boulder has had enough of his fellow Rumblers' poor sportsmanship!"

And for a few seconds there is finally silence.

Chapter Text

They all turn to the Boulder, astonished.

He hasn't gotten into the finals, but he hangs around sometimes. He's middle class, she remembers. Several of the Rumblers are, after all. Toughing out a living as a peasant doesn't leave much time or nutrition for training, though the ones that do make it in are fan favorites. He's never said anything before now. He has joined in before. The cornered girl doesn't trust him. She just lets the embarrassment from having to be rescued latch on. She is short with him. I don't need your help.

She's a child, so she thinks like a child. They've battled each other. They'll do it again. He's not a friend. He's an opponent.

She wants a real friend. Someone her own age. The word- the wish- school sticks in her throat.

. . . besides, even though she has ignored and defied them thus far, her parents warn with what appears as truth in her special sense that strange men are dangerous . . .

She is still a child.

. . . the injuries they inflict on each other in the ring have proven them worthy of the adjective . . .

Lots of matches go by. She eventually gets more powerful, and she's done using minimal force to meet the challenge.

Got ridiculed for it.

I'll remedy that.

. . . is she dangerous? . . .

Yes, their reactions tell her. Finally, some recognit-

. . . dangerous, is that- a good thing?. . .

The audience roars its approval.

. . .

Her confidence rises.

Time passes.

The tournament, is, among other things, a show, she absorbs in private scolds from Xin Fu. It's a cross-regional test of strength and skill but it's also entertainment to the viewers. There are happy mediums outside of beating the snot out of your opponent just because you're able to. It takes combatants out of commission that have to be replaced. He doesn't like the hassle. Sure, for people who aren't freakish and strange like you, injuries are unavoidable sometimes, but that's not the issue. In his tone and spread feet she thinks she can pick up faintly, don't hurt my boys. But mostly, I'm in charge, not you. Power. Challenge. Don't let the contest drag on too long either if you're evenly matched. It makes the crowd bored and less likely to bet on you. He doesn't like losing money.

She initially called him Ringmaster, but now she says Ring-a-ling.

She sticks out her tongue and taunts, my daddy would have somebody skin you alive if I told him to. All I have to do is tell him you pushed me into this. She's untouchable. Unreachable. I'll play your game by your rules if I feel like it. Only if.

She still cares about the money not one jot. It's inconsequential.

She has other kinds of debts to repay. She cracks her knuckles and warns him with a nasty kind of politeness to stop lecturing her, and when he doesn't comply with the request she makes him.

They wanted a real fight? She'll give them one.

She picks fights outside of the ring.

. . . all the while her parents would be ashen at some things she's done, if she only knew what "ashen" even looked like . . .

. . . they can't know . . .

She soon finds herself at the top of the heap with nowhere to go. Next year, she'll be defending her title.

. . . the civilized and gallant heroes and victors in the ballads never seemed this down and dirty . . .

The way things go for a while, winning from now on will be all too easy.

She lets up on the gas and resumes her previous style.

She returns to the badgermoles. She thinks she's ready to accept them now. The two spot her coming from a long way off, as she's finally learned how to do. Now she can see all the wolfbats lining the high, distant ceiling of the cavernous bubble in the mountain. The throng of them is so large she can't make out any details about the individuals. They're all the same size from here. Grunting in excitement, the two giants- where did you go little one?- gambol towards her as fast as they can, which is quite an entertaining, amusing and awkward gait since their flat digging claws are longer than the pads they grow from and their hind legs twice as short as their front ones. Because they don't know their own strength, she literally has to cast up a wall to keep them from mowing her down and she giggles like she hasn't giggled for quite some time as they sniffle her all over with moist noses and she takes in their gritty scent herself. This is home. When they finally settle down she walks around the pair's enormous girth and scratches them in all their favorite spots that they can't reach and then they circle her in turn, curl up, and heave huge rumbling sighs of contentment.

She and all the participants of the tournaments gradually settled into a slightly uneasy arrangement.

Heh, that as hard as you can hit me? I can take it.

Hey, Bandit.

I'm going to beat you one of these days.

The banter and the nicknames weren't anything like what had come before, even though some of the words and arrangements themselves may have looked suspiciously similar on paper. Most of the time she thought she could tell the difference, now, between when the comments to each other were true rivalry or camaraderie. Sometimes a mix of the two.

She still couldn't risk any bruises, any physical evidence of her time in the ring, so while she could punch some of them playfully, they couldn't do the same.

Even though it was unbalanced and lopsided, so was her whole life, so to her, it felt like stability. It was decent. It was nice.

-The first time Sokka tentatively punched her back, she might as well have been floating on air with giddiness, a wanderer in the warm wilderness who had come across a cool spring-

In the past, she kept a tally in her mind of the words. Boulder was accumulating the least of the negative ones. Hippo, simple soul that he was, had never had any in the first place, she realized retroactively. In the ring they all threw out insincere challenges and threats.

The trash talk.

It was a show . . .

Sometimes.

An act?

A story?

An illusion?

Lies?

In a sense, her sense suggested.

They're almost like brothers to each other, with Xin Fu as their commander.

She just couldn't see it before.

"May The Boulder speak with you?"

She sizes him up briefly. "You can talk. Dunno if I'll listen, though," she drawls with an easy arrogance long since picked up from the place and the people and her standing. "Might be getting a little deaf, too," she jokes sarcastically, because now she's so much more secure in her "disability." In the back of her mind the arrogance again takes note of his own middle class syntax and presentation. Toph never has overcome the handicap in their attitude- people know she isn't poor. They didn't cheer her as the underdog, and they don't cheer as loudly when she defeats those of much lower status. She files it away under things she doesn't understand. She's at the top, above them all in more ways than one. Separate. Untouchable. Alone.

The end of his sentence reaches her.

" . . . The Boulder wants to apologize."

"That was a while ago. Why are you bringing it up now?"

There were words for people like this, her parents said. Fair weather friends. Summer soldiers. They were nice and polite to you when you had influence, when you could do things for them, even if they had been nasty before. They expected things immediately in return for their good deeds. When the winter clouds gathered, they would leave you again. And even though she didn't know how light or shadow worked, the young noble had a pretty good idea of what they were talking about.

"Because the Boulder was angry at you, of course! Did something for you, and you just-"

Was this what they meant?

Did it even matter? They had bad history, along with some good. She is unwilling to forgive.

Had he defended her when she was on the way up?

Or did he just do it to help her?

Were either of those even "good" at all? The blind girl who had painstakingly scratched out her independence had to think. She doesn't hear the rest of his sentence because she is ignoring him.

"What I just did was tell you the truth." I don't want your help.

There was a pause and she got the distinct feeling he was studying her.

"Will you ever tell us your name?"

If she did, she might as well invite the whole troupe into the mansion and tell 'em to prop their feet up on the tables. It would skip the steps of her already spread fame in the underground culture reaching her parents "aboveground." And be more amusing.

. . . or nightmarish . . .

"My name's The Blind Bandit." Pride had forcefully excoriated all the past connotations. It rolls off her tongue like sweet vengeance.

The other competitors often grumble about her stupid. vindictive. constant. reminders.

I am blind.

And I can still bend circles around you.

-The other man was already down, but in her rage it didn't matter. Whack-

-What's my name? Say it!-

"You know mine."

"So? Kun Zhen is boring compared to The Pebble." It was true. His stage personality was more entertaining. Cool. Trying to keep two voices separate was difficult, anyway. She could attest to that.

He made a big theatric gesture. She wasn't the only one who carried around their newfound identity outside the ring, sometimes, like a colorful mask. "You know, your talents are wasted here."

A brown-noser, too. How quaint. At least the flattery's honest.

-awash in them, her father disdains certain sycophants, but basks in others-

"Did you really- did you really learn from badgermoles?"

The question catches her off guard, because it's been so long since the day he first spoke out against them.

It seems like longer than it is. She was a different person then.

-whack-

-Arrgh-

-fury-

-Crunch-

-he howwwwwled-

-She bolted, face flushed and heart pounding-

-footfalls-

-No, no, no, too far, no, no, no-

-not a game-

Why should she trust them with the badgermoles? No one had brought it up again. Besides, it's her edge, she reasons. It's what makes her champion. The others don't share their styles or their tricks with each other, because it makes it more interesting. Neither will she.

"I made that up," she lied. "Sorry to disappoint you." But she's not sorry.

Another long pause. "Do you ever think about what you could do away from the ring?"

The little powerhouse raised an eyebrow. That was bold and straightforward, even for an earthbender. To have the temerity to even suggest a thing- "You want me to leave so you'll be top camel-dog, Pebble?" The usually affectionate name is now stony.

Fists clenched, vibrations rapid. Anger? Or fear? Or both.

"Never mind. Forget it, little-"

She swiftly shifted one of her ankles diagonally

all of this in the small movement, an unwritten and unspoken pact shown through bared teeth she had in some cases literally hammered out with all of them

not going to take that anymore. Never. Again. it must be sarcastic, not sincere, else, silence. you are permitted to lie lightheartedly to me and I will happily return the favor and the goodwill, but Otherworld help you if you speak truth I need no help reading on my own, you are treading on dangerous ground here, back off, Power, animal-hostility-human-malice, I am your master not your equal nor your friend, these aremy rules, my LAWS

and he flinched from her a few steps, fully ready to block.

She stood back up straight and rolled her shoulders. The brief danger became a near miss.

She let him leave.

It wasn't until a few weeks before the finals that she overheard The Boulder had a tattoo.

What is a tattoo? Despite the novelty of a word she doesn't know, a rare occurrence, she discarded the question in favor of pre-match hype.

They exchange their usual stage lines, and she very indifferently deals him a particularly humiliating defeat.

Xin Fu then makes his usual offer for anyone to face the champion.

"I don't really want to fight with you, I just want to talk with you." The new boy says.

She is uninterested in words. The first time she clashed with Aang was the first time she had ever fallen from the ring. It's not simply 'unusual,' she's completely astonished and angry with herself all at once- where did she possibly make a miscalculation? Where was the mistake? Although she's scratched and scuffed herself up before, training or with her teachers, no one else has ever accomplished it. She storms away fretting in her mind, preoccupied over coming up with lies and excuses to explain her condition later when her parents arrive at the mansion from an outing. She hasn't had to do that for a while. She's shaken, though they've taught her to bury it under toughness.

"I just want to talk to you . . . Please listen!" he calls.

She tosses over her shoulder by well worn reflex, "Leave me alone."

She thought she was rid of him, but she turned out wrong.

"What Aang's trying to say is, he's the Avatar, and if he doesn't master earthbending soon he won't be able to defeat the Fire Lord."

She throws her hand in the stranger's face in a wordless instruction to be quiet. "Not my problem."

-Gaoling is untouchable, that's all that matters, her parents spin white lies to the little child so as not to alarm her or make her upset. We'll tell you when you're older. The small bit of honesty appears, and appeases her. You don't have to worry about it, dear. It's nothing. Go play on the grounds, take supervision, and earthbend like you like to, but only if you make sure to be perfectly washed up for dinner. Don't try anything too dangerous. They talk about the war behind closed doors when they don't think she's listening. A few things have stuck, but mostly the words go in one ear and out the other. She isn't concerned about any peasants' issues. She likes earthbending-

He uses his status as the only living airbender to directly take the front door to her house after obliquely slipping in the back. But he wasn't much like the airbenders in the literature. They used circles, didn't they? Over dinner he was stubbornly trying to reveal her secret. Making a vulturebeeline straight to the heart of the matter. Like an earthbender. Without her permission! Sweat and tears spiraling down the drain! He has no idea how hard she's worked to keep everything she's arranged from falling apart!

You're an airbender! A Twinkletoes! Why don't you act like it!

You have no place here! You have no business using air this way!

Even if he thinks he knows- he sees clearly-

Her brain short circuits with memories and words. Loneliness shoulders its way in when he casually mentions to her parents that he's her age.

She considers that maybe, she should give him a chance.

He's surprised at her sudden change in attitude, but switching back and forth between worlds has long since become second nature to her, securely ingrained. She doesn't wrangle with words as much now, because she's become more like their master. Incisive. Wit. Surety.

"Even though I was born blind, I've never had a problem seeing. I see with earthbending. It's kind of like seeing with my feet."

She sees. Astoundingly, it's really that simple. His offer to leave sounds wonderful, but she worked so long for stability. For security. For peace. Uprooting now-

No, she can't.

She'd like to be a hero,

. . . me a soldier? I'm only twelve . . .

but it isn't like the stories.

. . . they are all pretty and pristine, and I'm so . . . stained . . .

"My daughter is blind. She is blind and tiny and helpless and fragile." Innocent.

You are blind.

After she is freed from her temporary prison, she's reading the frustrated doubt in his words. There have been so many clues, but he holds onto the image she has presented to him because it's all he knows for sure. You are blind, father, and I've made you that way.

She yanks her hand away, wordlessly communicating I've lied to you, I've sneaked around you, but he only receives part of the message.

Maybe she can fight, he'll accept that, but he can still help her.

In the minutes it takes her to walk to and onto the ring, he commands Master Yu, one of the best masters in the south, to help her defeat the Earth Rumblers. She overrides him in clipped, short sentences because time is of the essence,

. . . or because I'm running away from explaining . . .

"No, Dad, this is my fight." Mine. "I know them. I know their secrets. I'm champion. I can't tell you everything right now. I have to free the Avatar."

Not because she cares about the boy, but because I'm their master, and by all the Spirits I will remind them of that. Nothing happens without her say so.

-even without any earth she could feel Xin Fu oozing surly satisfaction for trapping her in a metal box and finally being in control again and she will make him pay dearly-

When the time comes, after she's finished using her fists, to use words, she thinks she can feel the hurt and the betrayal she's inflicted on them.

"Dad, I know it's probably hard for you to see me this way. But the obedient little helpless blind girl that you think I am just isn't me. I love fighting. I love being an earthbender, and I'm really, really good at it. I know I've kept my life secret from you, but you were keeping me secret from the whole world. You were doing it to protect me, but I'm twelve years old and I never had a real friend. So, now that you see who I really am, I hope it doesn't change the way you feel about me."

She feels a strong pang when the three other kids leave, and maybe, she considers, there was a little something else to why she did it.

Did he say something about a vision? Was destiny a real thing?

She re-examines the epiphany she had that led her to offer a truce to him- in the books airbenders are the ones historically known as peacemakers- in the first place.

-In the present, Aang marvels, "What a near miss that we hadn't left before you came running, Toph."-

-"You have no idea, I almost didn't." I say seriously. And he really doesn't. I'm not sure I could explain all of it, but I decide to take a crack at it. I leave out the things I want to, of course-

In going into the ring, she was forced to avoid, evade, and think differently to overcome stronger opponents.

He could learn faster from her than anyone else, she's almost sure.

But she can't be absolutely sure beforehand. As much as she might dream about going all out, standing up tall, taking a little punishment, she can't chance it or she won't-

Not this again.

No.

I've avoided. I've evaded.

-Later she'll put it knowledgeably but bluntly, "You've got to stop thinking like an airbender"-

-go all out, stand up tall, take a little punishment, that's what they've taught me, it's what I'll teach you-

Is there any other earthbending teacher who's going to be able to mentally approach him from something that approximates his own style? Who can teach him the differences between them?

And the similarities? The bridging points?

Maybe it is like the stories. Maybe some things happen for a reason.

Chapter Text

"My dad changed his mind. He said I was free to travel the world," she lies, almost the first thing she says to the people whom she aches to become friends with. Because by now, lying is just second nature. No big. She honestly bears no ill will. It's just easier not to talk about it, and pretend to believe her own story.

She's quiet for a little while with them and listens very carefully. Is this a clean slate? She has no history with the strangers, and it's interesting.

After testing the waters, the words start to flow more. And more.

. . . They can't know . . .

Even though she doesn't know what it looks like she's already learned to turn her face away so no one can see the flush of shame.

-Later on, she'll know to hide her blushing for a different reason, too-

At the beginning of their journey, she can't decide whether Katara is more like the badgermole mother, the caring, strong, leader, or Poppy, the caring, domestic, housewife. In any given situation the context she places her in determines whether she respects her or disdains her.

Katara somehow wheedled her into saying to him the one thing that only precious few people had ever said to her. Some servants. You can do it.

"You've got the stuff."

A temporary truce with an Earth Rumbler or two. Kid, you're amazing, you know!

It's positive reinforcement, Katara says. Verbal help. It's a first step in a long journey.

For both of them.

Sokka's beneath her. He has no power. It was simple and stable.

Katara, on the other end, is attempting to read the girl in the context of those she grew up with and failing. Aang, who knew so many different kinds of people, should have been the best at reading, but Toph isn't like anyone he's ever met, either. Sokka accepted her for who she was and didn't worry about it, but also didn't make much attempt to dig deeper, and doesn't even take her seriously until she makes him, relatively gently for her own methods.

Only Katara, raised among all women, fussing over each other and quick to give support and a kind word over the most mundane of difficulties, but learning the ways of the new Nation she has found herself in, finally sees how affection-starved the little girl really is.

The men here didn't hug, and nobles didn't hug. Men kept their weaker emotions to themselves. A composed noble kept them all to themselves. How did they live?

You don't have to do that, you know, Katara whispers. You can be yourself. She found herself letting things slip. It was a wholly unexpected vulnerability. It reminded her too much of her cursed existence before she had found her semi-stability. And if she were completely honest with herself, which she rarely was, it scared her. Too much at once. She was more comfortable with the other two. She shut her out and cast up walls and drove her off with words as weapons to defend herself because she absolutely did not want to hurt-hurt her. Girly. Mushy. Sugar Queen.

In cruel irony, her relationship with the other girl turned out the closest to the one with the Rumblers, while it held some genuine affection it was almost hopelessly complicated beneath the surface.

Aang is open and honest and eager to please, but dances circles around her. Dangerous? No, I don't think so. But still . . . The placating behavior itself, in a self-fulfilling prophecy, did set her off, sometimes, but other times it was also highly amusing in its own way. The danger of her looking down on him rears its ugly head.

They both complain that she insults so much, and Sokka laughs it off and says, can't you tell she's kidding? It's obvious.

He understands.

The other two benders might understand how she can place herself in the world with no sight. But he never does quite wrap his head all the way around it.

Wait, you're blind?

You can't see that?

Oh yeah.

I forgot.

Every subsequent time it happens, it's victory that tastes so much sweeter than holding the belt. It's a rush, though her face doesn't always show it.

She remembers that when they first met he fancied the belt, and eagerly digs it out of her bag.

And bit by bit Aang grows to be her equal and he's proven himself.

It seems like a clean slate.

They only see Toph, not The Blind Bandit.

Even though, unknowingly, she hasn't actually discarded the protective mask.

I gotta tell you, these Fire Nation folks are as dumb as they come. We beat them over and over, and they never pick up on that something fishy is going on –this whole stupid salt-soaked Nation reeks of fish, by the way- Or maybe they do, but still continue to accept our challenges anyway, even though they know by now they'll lose. This is a laugh.

They don't know what hit them.

They're blinder than I am!

. . . but of course it's not a natural blindness but an enforced blindness . . .

What the heck am I thinking? I don't care. I don't feel bad for them.

I don't.

I'm keeping my tricks from them, so what?

My parents lying to me and evading about the 'grown-up, scary things' hurt, but I dealt with it. They can deal with it too, and if they can't they're not worth my spit. My parents trying to keep important things from me isn't the same.

. . . my keeping important things from them is . . .

It isn't!

My parents don't care about me. And that ends that.

Silence, while Katara scolds Sokka and Aang about taking chances they shouldn't. She might be talking to me too, but I'm not listening. Blah, blah, blah.

. . . the Earth Rumblers didn't know who I was either . . .

Maybe . . . maybe . . . I wish I would have had time to say goodbye to Hippo. He'd probably like Appa. He only fought against me with the other sheeple because Xin Fu told him to. I understand that. Honestly. He's a follower, not a rebel and an independent like me. But he was nice. I . . . did care about him . . .

You know, if I die, facing the Fire Lord and his followers with Aang, I'll never see any of the Rumblers again. I . . . I think they'd . . .

. . . I . . . I hope they miss me . . .

. . . Surely, some of them, just a little . . . maybe not though . . .

. . . they were probably glad to be rid of me . . .

Sokka elbows me while he's laughing and a bunch of coins spill out of one of the bags. "Whoops, I'll get it."

I'm winning money.

A lot of money.

When the others aren't looking- and I know when they aren't 'looking' perfectly well, thank you very much- I rub my fingers over the metal, trying to determine what composition it has, and how many specks of earth are in them compared to the money at the mansion. I wonder what colors they are? Nah, doesn't matter. I'm not gonna ask 'em.

They've pretty much forgotten I've blind, remember, and I like it that way. If I want to remind them, I will.

I've let Sokka and Aang handle most of the money when we buy things. Sokka has experience with money in the Fire Nation colonies while they were sneaking around borders of the conflict. Aang remembers coins from one hundred years ago and notes how they've changed or points out new ones. Cool! He babbles something about how money came to be in each of the Nations and civilizations and how the exchange rates established themselves in his history lessons at the Temples and Sokka's listening really intently, responding in turn Cool! Aang's strangely excited to be in the Fire Nation- I'm not sure why, to be honest, it hasn't been all that great, except it was pretty awesome, so cool when he and Katara snuck away and blew up that whole big factory. The explosion woke me up and scared me clean out of my skin. Sokka was so mad when he found their beds stuffed with that hay, and I was a little ticked that Katara got her lies past me, too. Guess I wasn't paying attention. I never even considered those two had it in 'em, to be honest.

I'm also not sure why Katara wanted to rescue that particular snakerathole of a town- you want to talk about smelling about fish, try dead and mutated ones, ulgh. It's like Sokka said.

"We can't go around helping every rinky-dink town we wander into. We'll be helping them all when we defeat the Fire Lord."

But, whatever. They can do what they want. I'm along for the ride and loving every minute of it.

I've listened about the values of the money and tried to compare them to the way Earth Kingdom coins and bars divvy up . . . but it's all alien.

I'd need their help to understand.

I know I do.

But I'm not going to ask them. If it's important enough to warrant my attention, I will figure it out for myself. If I can't, then I'll just deal with it.

I remember what it felt like to give up my winnings to Xin Fu.

I didn't care about the money, and honestly- actually, sincerely, no kidding, I know it sounds strange, because everybody seems to- I still don't. It used to be because of my family. Then it was because Xin Fu often said you can get everything you want just by knowing where and when to flex a little muscle; the details will take care of themselves. But now, the "not caring" is different. It's hard to explain. The comforts of what money could buy- servants, beds, excellent food, mulch and watering to get fragrant flowers and soft, even grass on a lawn, mmmmmm, I love that last one, and remind me sometime to tell you an absolutely hilarious story about mulch- were hard to get by with, but I dealt with it, because being with them is so fun. I haven't had much contact with any people besides my friends these past couple of months- why should I talk to them, anyway, I won't have long enough to get to know them- and I'm perfectly content with that.

I'm not just happy, really. That's not a strong enough word. Joyful would closer approximate. Elated. Ecstatic.

My dad parades around pretending that he has power because of money- even though in his mind he believes it- but I know what real power is.

They took away my control. They didn't listen to me. They tried to mold me to be the sweet, "civilized" girl, and I'm amsodone with that. I've shut that out.

Katara's nagging about the gambling is getting on my nerves, so I get up and stroll away. I could tell her to shut up, but I don't want to be mean to her, not right now anyway. She's my friend. I just don't want to listen. That's all.

She's in a stark wooden cage rather than a gilded one when the cage she built for herself and the mask finally is ripped away for a while because she just can't hold it all in anymore and the waterbender is cradling her in her arms and she's crying-

By the time she hears the story of Sozin and Roku, two lifelong friends, the mere idea of EVER betraying her friends is SO far outside her realm of comprehension, that when Sozin betrays that kind of loyalty, she says the first thing that comes to mind, "it's like they're born bad."

It straightforwardly lines up with what she's heard at the mansion, and the ring.

-The audience boos at the Fire Nation Man caricature. Had the actor actually been from the Fire Nation, there would have been lots of other red on the ring than just his uniform-

What could possibly be worth saving or sparing in a people so cruel and heartless? Maybe eradicating them would be doing the world a service, like the heroes in the literature and the ballads who defend their friends and their people from ravaging spirit monsters.

She might have carried that forming impression with her till the end of her days, had she never been knocked out of the ring. Had he not learned to communicate on her level and in a way she understood. Had he not replied staunchly and resolutely, "No, that's wrong. I don't think that was the point of what Roku showed me at all." Then he began to muse and circle and examine the story he just told at a different angle, as airbenders are wont to do, and she listened.

She's honestly surprised when the Boulder and the Hippo greet her like an old friend. Is it just because of the circumstances: the common enemy? Or did she give them enough of a measure of companionship despite her frostiness and the embarrassing defeat of the Boulder she left him with?

As everyone is preparing for battle she pulls the victim in question aside because the odds are stacked against them all and she may not have a chance to speak to him afterwards.

"I- I guess it's my turn to apologize," she said quietly, yanking at grass stalks with her curled toes absently.

"What? For pulling one over on Xin Fu? Honestly, Bandit, after The Boulder pondered it, it was very comical."

"What?"

"Didn't you set that match up with the Avatar to get the prize money?"

She considered claiming it to be staged, to save face. The others, especially Aang, would probably go along with her if she asked them to. "No. He really did just waltz in there."

"Wow. But it wasn't earthbending, so The Boulder doubts the loss should be officially tallied."

He didn't seem to hold any grudges for anything, so she decided to just let the matter drop. While she appreciated the gusto with which he defended her ability, she still sighed. "Kun Zhen, could you drop the third-person thing for now, please? I want to speak with you seriously."

"Uh-um . . ."

She gets that the change in attitude about stage voices seems odd. Well, she's about to make it odder. "And use my name."

"Toph?"

"Yes. Toph Bei Fong."

He started, but then stilled and rubbed his chin. "That makes sense. Of course!"

"It does?"

"Sure. A lot of us aren't from Gaoling, but it makes sense that you are. And I don't know how your arrangement got the way it is, but many noble families keep their daughters under lock and key until they are of age."

"Yeah, but not a complete secret!" she protested.

"Well, you are a special case, right?"

That sounded too much like justifying everything her parents had done, so she stood angrily and began to stomp away . . .

"Wait! Where are you-? How did you convince them to let you enter the Tournament? Your wits would have to be sharp as your fighting!"

That stopped her, because it was again painfully obvious how little she had let on to these people who for some reason considered her a "friend."

"No, I'm such an idiot!" she hissed. Long nights spent awake reluctantly thinking while the others fell asleep quickly and days she had spent solitarily yelling grunts while bending out her frustrations came back to her. "They couldn't stop me from going to the Rumble! No one could! If I had just-"

"I didn't tell them." the preteen said brittlely. "But none of their guards could keep me in. They couldn't keep me locked in a metal compartment indefinitely. I don't think my mother would stand for me to spend even a night in a cell. Even if my father had disowned me they couldn't keep me out, either. But that would have been . . . just . . . so . . . " she held her head in her hands. Maybe she wasn't an idiot for keeping quiet. Who would want to open that can of crawly-worms? She swallowed and tried to will the pounding in her chest and ears to slow. That's not how families were supposed to work. She knew, whether from stories or overheard conversations or just instinct, she knew. But everything about being a noble was complicated. She had complicated it further.

And yet she still couldn't wish that she had never lied in the first place, either.

His heart had quickened a little again, seemingly flummoxed by the extent of the predicament as she vaguely outlined it, more from a whirlpool of her own thoughts than for his benefit.

She was shaking and felt like she was going to break open again, but with somewhat less tears and more rock throwing and shouting this time. But she wasn't ready for that, not in front of Kun Zhen. And judging by his reaction, he wasn't either. The man had stood up to follow her, confused, and but now obviously afraid, because he could hear the anger, even in her smaller voice. He backed several steps in a defensive posture, just like before. She knew he was remembering what happened to people when she was enraged.

For a second time, he didn't know she was a different person now . . . this time even more different.

That thought finally gave her some calm. She blew out a slow breath and faced him obligingly. "Sorry. I meant for this to go better." She just hadn't expected the past to hit her so hard after the time she had spent being happy. Then again, she hadn't expected it the last time with Katara, either. Why couldn't she just keep it stuffed away? "I was, I was going to tell you I wasn't . . . so angry anymore. I thought I wasn't."

"Really?" He weighed her sincerity. "You can't expect to put something like that past you so easily Ban- Toph." Kun Zhen offered. "You- you had an awful time of it at the ring, and I was only there for some of it. I thought you didn't call on anybody to escort you around and keep the others off your back because you wanted to muddle through on your own. I should've guessed there was more to it than that."

At that she relaxed, and he did as well.

"That's part of why I brought up leaving," he added.

Some annoyance reintroduced itself. "I already expressed what I thought of your wanting to send me packing."

"Toph." He shook his head. "I would have gone with you."

That truth flummoxed her.

"I thought, maybe you were to young for the army, but you could help so many, whether building or mining or teaching. But you were so-"

He stopped and shifted, and it took a little while for her to realize what the problem was. He was still leery of insulting her. Still cautious.

"Come on, you can tell it like it is now," she said. "Honest."

"Well, for one," he still said it as if tiptoeing, but maybe it was to amuse her. She couldn't quite tell. "I was appalled at the sheer audacity of your ingratitude."

Yep. She smiled. "I was easy to set off," she stated simply.

"And wrapped up in yourself, but," he gained a note of seriousness again, "I knew deep down that you had every right to be scornful. It really hit me once you left and they started bad mouthing you again."

"So you really thought about leaving with me?"

"Yeah."

"And Hippo would have come?" she said, gesturing over to the giant.

"I wouldn't have asked him to."

"Why?"

The man folded his arms. "You don't know Hippo's story, do you Toph?"

"No."

"Well, it's time you did."

Chapter Text

Boulder began his tale like this. "Well, his name is Po. Thus the stage name."

He told her about the older man's upbringing that he had gathered from the other Rumblers. The previous envy Toph had felt at the audience favoring him melted as she found out more. He, like so many peasant children during the war, was illiterate and raised in an orphanage. He got out early because of his size. No one kept very close records of the children's ages, so they handed him off to army recruiters when they asked for him, which was as soon as he looked grown. He didn't have the self-confidence to point out the intimidating army officers' mistake. So, already he had an important thing in common with her, she thought. They both went to action at an early age, though he was forced and she wasn't. He did extremely well on the battlefield, the man continued, but because of his speech handicap- gods, how she hated that word, a polite and 'tactful' dodge, and she let him know it, too- and lack of education there was no way he would rise in rank. Kun Zhen was quick to point out that he was probably ridiculed for both. He was stuck at the grind as a footsoldier for his entire tour of duty, despite his physical skill. He was only good enough to take commands.

Then he came to the ring. The ring was respite. The ring was home. Compared to the front lines, it was downright cozy. That was why he was so amicable and laid back all the time. He radiated good cheer through the ground while not performing. So much so that when he scooped her up under the arms after the long separation she didn't think for a second he would hurt her. Even suddenly deprived of her special sight, which should have set her on edge and thinking of helplessness, she went limp in his grip like a badgermole cub.

-"Sweet." she smiled at the titan holding her

Half of the other Rumblers didn't even know he actually talked the way he did. They thought it was a part of his "stage character." Some knew, but they didn't fault him for it and they didn't tell. She thought, well, she wasn't the only one hiding things, though it was more of an "in plain sight" arrangement.

As Kun Zhen finished, Toph asked, "Why did none of the other Rumblers come to help? It was because of me, wasn't it?"

At this he fisted both his hands tightly and his vibrations went more rapid than she had ever seen them. "No, it wasn't because of you! I told Xin Fu and all of his cronies that this was what all the training and sharpening skills should have been for, to strike against the ones who have battered our great country."

-"The Boulder and The Hippo  no longer  fight for others' entertainment. Now, we fight for our Kingdom!"-

That's right, she realized. He didn't just say he was here to fight, he also implied he wasn't going back to the ring. But why would he cut ties with-

"And they all refused! They're cowards, Toph! They called you a coward for years, and then when push came to shove, they backed down!"

He pounded a heel into the ground, and she twitched at the sudden sensation in her "sight" so close. Alright, she jumped.

"I should have pummeled them, too, for some of the things they said to you. 'Demon spawn,' my foot."

-and for those of you Water Tribesmen and Fire Nationals out there, that's a hefty curse for an earthbender-

"It would've been nice." Toph said facetiously.

Something in her face must have amused him more because it wasn't until he looked at her that he gave a high baritone laugh and her low soprano joined in.

"So, Toph. You were taught by Master Yu, weren't you? That was some story you told about the badgermoles."

She rubbed the back of her head. "Actually . . . that was true."

He sounded like he was smirking. "Sure."

"No, seriously. I'll take you to see them, if . . ." she trailed off. If they both lived. ". . . if you want to."

He was studying her again, she knew it.

"I would ask if you snuck around and observed them. But those who know, know you can't sneak up on a badgermole." His voice had gone surprisingly morose all of the sudden.

"Who wouldn't know that?" she asked. "We've domesticated a strain of them. They should be familiar by now." She remembers the animals that clear off the ring fondly.

"Hand-reared badgermoles are almost as helpless as pea-kittens," Khun Zhen said flatly. "They're kept from the earth until they've pretty much matured."

"What!" she demanded in a lot more than indignation.

"They couldn't be kept any other way. They don't know the difference between buildings and the rest of the earth. And even if they could be taught, they still could have a fit and destroy a small town. Breeders have to keep them from establishing such a close bond with the earth. It's like learning a language. The ability sharply decreases at a certain age. Actually," he concluded just as flatly, "it's the same problem Hippo had. No one talked to him much when he was a child."

"That's-" she couldn't even express how- almost- obscene it was to her. "That's horrible."

"At least they aren't mistreated like some other animals. They're still considered sacred. And in some underground cities, like Ba Sing Se used to be, people manage to live side by side with them without doing that." His mind was somewhere else, though. It had been for a while, since his voice changed. She decided she wanted to know where.

"What aren't you telling me?" Everything he said had been the truth, but he was withholding something, too.

"You know I have a badgermole tattoo on my back." he said. "There's a reason it's there."

"No, actually I didn't know." Toph waved her hand in front of her sightless eyes.

"Oh . . . right."

-later she would incredulously learn how exactly tattoos were made and that it covered his entire back-

"So why do you have it?"

He drew in two breaths, but once he started it felt like he had told this story lots of times. "Around my nineteenth spring," he said, using Earth Kingdom vernacular for age, "my cousin and I were, well, basically two teenagers looking for trouble. We weren't quite men, but we wanted to be. My grandfather used to say, the younger you are, the slower you experience time, because you don't have as many years behind you," he said, glancing over at her. "I bet it seems like a long while since you were at the ring, doesn't it?"

"Well, yeah," she admitted. "But for more reasons than one."

"Mmmm. Well, our birthdays weren't coming fast enough. Unlike the working classes, we had lots of time on our hands. You know what they say about idle feet and bad Spirits. We cooked up a scheme to see a wild badgermole as up-close as we could. We questioned hunters and trappers, who avoided them, about where a young single male- we laughed about it being "like us"- would be wandering around, where the pairs' territories were to steer clear. Females were the more feisty ones more than half the time. We thought we were being real smart about it," he said bitterly. "We ignored everything anyone had ever told us- that they weren't to be messed with, only a group could overcome one- all of it."

He didn't keep going, but she could guess. "He didn't make it, did he?"

Almost makes her understand why the huge, wild dragons were wiped out by the Fire Nation, though why the smaller subspecies that had been tamed was also done away with was anyone's guess.

"It took me a while to accept that it was our fault, not his. That we didn't respect him as we had been told to. That's when I got the tattoo. And started studying them, on paper this time."

-Both the Boulder and the Hippo are abruptly taken from her after the invasion, and she hides her face in Katara's sleeve while they ride away on Appa, though she pretends it's to comfort her while the older girl is quietly crying about her father-

-I'm not left alone, but why do I feel that way?-

-Aang lost everything and I'm rattled over maybe losing two people-

-I'm pathetic-

-got to be tough-

When she has to help Aang find the Fire Lord, she gets to really observe the eerily calm heartbeat of the princess. She's unsure.

Power. Leader. Liar. Worthy adversary.

Caution. Listen. Carefully. Don't take chances. Don't gamble.

But she's sure, when she sees the honesty of the prince. He is calm most of the time, because he is consciously, meekly, and docilely trying to earn their respect. But he does get angry. Very angry.

Even though he's a prince, it isn't like the fairy tales. He holes himself up in one of the rooms of the Temple that houses so much death that he somehow feels responsible for even though it was long before he was born, and mutters to himself about some girl that he has wronged, who must be dead by now because of him.

-when he defeats his sister he won't believe her lies that she is still alive. She's just taunting him. The word must come from somewhere else before the coronation-

With the way her vision works, the ingrained habit of sneaking around and being quiet, and her sharp hearing she notices when he hides from them, trying to choke back the onslaught of emotions-guilt-anger-loneliness-conflictedloyalties well enough to present the wordless projection of I'm harmless, pleasant, honestly, good-intentioned, I'm not lying, please, please believe me. Accept me.

If the cover slips, it'll be like he's taking two steps backwards for every one step he takes towards earning their trust.

She remembers having to swallow back the venom she felt at her parents and everything else and is way past feeling sorry for him. She invades his space without a second thought, not making a sound, and, he, wrapped up in his worries and not the surroundings, unable to give his permission, can't compose himself. He stutters in embarrassment and shame as thoughts assault him like a swarm of vicious canon crawlers, he does his special fire-technique calming breaths but it doesn't work at all, he can't make fire any more, how can they accept him if he can't do anything for them, he's worse than useless, he's a failure, just like father always said, but he has to tell them, just- just not now, go away, give me a little time, I can't deal with this at the moment, I don't even know you

It's all right. Don't do it. I won't let you. I won't leave you alone. I won't stop badgermoling you. They made me do it, but you don't have to play pretend. You don't have to be the polite prince in the stories right now. Rage, prince. Rage at the world. I can take it.

Leave. Me. ALONE!

-Later, he will blame her angrily for the impossibly near miss, for setting him back again. After he returns from the dragons, the idea she has given him through her own teachers, he will, in reflection, deeply appreciate the intention and the words, themselves, at least-

The rest of them come sprinting to defend her when they hear- please no, she can't be hurt again- his voice hurling harsh words and her name in rage in order to hold back, and she ends up defending him. Physically.

Despite the bitter words they subsequently call him, he's not a big bad wolfbat. She knows. Don't they remember she can read people? Thank you for worrying about me. But I'm perfectly fine. I can defend myself. And all but one back off and apologize.

Maybe if she hadn't been there, they wouldn't have attacked.

Maybe if she hadn't been there, they never would have given him a chance in the first place, and tossed him out.

Nor does she blame Katara for blindly thinking, Heartless. Monster. Betrayer. Just like she did. She can't see the way the earthbender can. It'll change. She doesn't know the extent of the bad history, because Aang resolutely plays up the good and dismisses all else. She reasons, she's named Katara 'sweet' for a reason, because she's put up with Toph's abuse and still easily returns kindness. She has a bigger heart than a badgermole, and she'll get over this, even if it'll take some major time. She slips up with holding onto her anger every now and again, though she denies it with words. She needs to rage, too. There's no point in pretending. Let it out. You'll feel better. Be yourself.

Because his sister is casting up walls, Sokka provides an unexpected outlet through Zuko.

Later on Zuko attacks Aang because no one in the group has told him of Aang's intentions to wait and listen for the opportunity to strike at the Fire Lord. Zuko in turn has not warned him of the danger.

Communication fails sometimes. But it always fails when it's not used at all.

They all had to deal with it.

"Get over here Zuko. Being part of the group also means being part of group hugs."

He hesitates, and Toph understands.

After all the fighting, she runs to reunite with the Boulder, and shrugs and silently forgives Hippo when her friend props her on his shoulder, forgetting that she can't see anything except him when she's off the ground.

She might be able to forgive Poppy and Lao, because she knows they've spent sleepless nights tossing and turning and worrying without her there, because she's done the same thing. They've taken their punishment.

She is told, in high baritone, that even if that hawk does arrive and her parents –who love me- reject her -for telling them so many stories and lies and leaving them with nothing on a whim- or if she later decides to leave them on her own, for her own reasons, she has two people right here who will do all they can to give her some stability.

She won't be left alone.

The earthbender is ready for some stability. For some simplicity. For some rest. For some recuperation. For peace. Then she can get back up and go at it again, because there's so much work to do and the world's people will sometimes want to rage.

All of them have been socially several generations sculpted and forged and shaped and molded by violence and war, save Aang, who, had his teachers and guides and friends not helped him to adapt and develop the resilience and fortitude and rock solidconvictionto hold on to himself against a primal but somehow, impossibly, insensibly innocent and honest rage-fury-wrath that went too far, might have eventually folded like a house of cards with despair-loneliness-anger-guilt-I-miss-my-people-I-can't-understand-this-strange-world-I-just-can't-take-this-huge-oppressive-constricting-painful-choking-responsibility-of-leadership-can't-you-understand-I-have-to-withdraw-I-might-not-come-back-I'm-just-one-person-I-only-have-so-much-to-give-I-need-peace-I-can't-help-everyone.

Evil, after all, flourishes when good men stand still do nothing. Because everyone needs a little peace and stillness from time to time.

He, who in the future, becoming more and more attuned, will listen to past voices and thoughts when he is alone and still, diving into an ocean of echoes . . .

-I have all the power of the universe-

-I have the power to force you away when I am angry or upset-

They swirl all around him.

-But I will not take that option. I will instead avoid you. I will slink away, for the time being. I will run from you. I don't want to end up hurting you, even with words. Even with decisions I am unsure of. I'm unsure a lot. A lot more than I let everyone believe-

-Sometimes you have to run-

-Sometimes you have to let someone run, even if you care about them-

-Sometimes you have to go after them-

-Even though you can never be sure andfearit and envision it happening in so many ways, I won't break while I'm alone. I will tell you if I need you. I'm more resilient than you think. After all, I have you to come back to. Turn your attention to others who need you-

-I care about you when I see you. Some of the time, even when I'm away. I suffer, you know. It's unavoidable. And if you are a good person and you're paying attention to me, you'll suffer if I show my suffering because you care. Isn't it natural to avoid hurt?-

-What will you do about the feedback circles of conscience?-

-Sometimes you need to stand up tall, take a little punishment. Strong. Straightforward. Blunt. Take control. I want to defend myself. I want to defend you from anyone who might hurt you-

-Any others, strangers, people, become smaller, lose their distinctiveness next to those you care for, and they might disappear completely, in mere consideration or, worse, reality. And it's terrifying, because you can't take back whatever happens-

-Sometimes, you need to back off and be considerate and aware to avoid doing damage. Submit. Avoid. Evade. Give control. I just need some peace. Be calm, and I promise I'll be too. We'll talk later when I'm thinking clearly and can gather better words to use-

-Listen for the signals-

-Wait as long as it is in your power to do so-

-which may be only a split second-

There will be conflict and imbalance in the group, because none of them agree on how to resolve commonfolk issues. She will shoutwords, because so terribly many were shouted and raved at her as a child.

-because she cannot yet see that she resides in a ring of hell, with brilliant pinpoints of light at its edges-

-the worst torments are those we have a hand in inflicting on ourselves-

-escaping them is challenging. Some never accomplish it-

They will toss some words back as well, to defend themselves. To shatter the perfectly natural, dangerous, ring, circle of escalation and retaliation and negative energy when they are together, they will instead invoke another circle: separate to blow off steam and calm down and then reunite . . .

Quite often, in the utter confusion and chaos, they make very wrong choices, sometimes repeatedly, based on what they believe with their whole hearts to be true based on the information and the people that teach them.

-The only way to escape such flux and noise is to separate completely and notcome back, as we few, staunch Air Nomads have. But I only ever recommend it with great caution. Truly. It is terribly lonely, though wondrous and exhilarating and humbling to behold-

-Give encouragement. Like this. When anyone like her says something to them, tell them. You aren't dumb. You aren't strange. Don't believe them. Even if they don't know it, they're quite simply lying, because how can they know if you truly are if they don't really know you in the first place?-

-You are perceptive and intelligent-

-caring, too. But you can't always be both at once. You might find yourself drifting towards one unintentional, innocent extreme over the other. Either putting people down, or patronizing them. It is neither a good or bad thing. We all wear masks, and we all play games, without realizing it or even meaning harm. You will do damage. You will make mistakes. Accept it. Never. Ever. keep on blaming yourself. Ever-

-And should someone else make a mistake-

-you'll get back up when you're knocked down, even if you need some time- a long time- to take a breather-

-And offer a hand to those you knock down-

For them, making their own echoes, sometimes, it's like the stories. Sometimes it isn't. Most times they are the heroes, but sometimes they aren't.

They don't exactly get a happy ending. The thing is, it never ends. It goes on.

Post Scriptum:

Stories and songs teach you things, you know. Which ones you listen to and what you take from them and remember, however, is your choice, along with other factors. I'm eager to listen what you took away from this.

See a piece of an idea you like, anywhere in this collection? Want to use it, or expand and polish a scene or add dialog for it because something grabbed your imagination? Be my guest, if you will credit me and link back to this series of four in your author's notes.

I have done a  poor  job indeed if you ever listen to the words of The Blind Bandit or listen to Coldplay's song Viva La Vida or think about corporate executives and politicians of our world- those people need to knock the stuffing out of their ears!- or meet the next random person you see on the street –what pain might they have endured and be hiding?- in the same way again when our communication is over and you leave me alone.

Chapter Text

So things are getting scary here in America. 45 is doing everything he possibly can to find ‘legal’ ways of getting as close to martial law as possible, playing chicken with the economy, removing judges and journalists that oppose him, and trying to make protest illegal. 

I’m not in a red state, but it LEANS red. 

And now that we have an /actual/ leftist organization in my town for once, I am not sure what I’ll be in the middle of. 

Let it be known that I am a forever a die-hard Toph and Zuko shipper (not at their current ages) and the Neo-Censorship brigade that made fandoms of all kinds feel unsafe for anyone who enjoyed the dynamics of characters to the point of wanting to see what it would be like aged-up successfully robbed this particular ship of any content I would’ve made for it, and any other fandoms of corresponding content.

Was the trade-off of not being /quite/ as ostracized and perhaps having a shot at other content getting a wider audience worth it? Idk. Never know whether to evaluate myself as a coward or a pragmatist. As myself or the hostile social fabric as the culprit. 

. . .

Looking back on this set of four oneshots in particular is pretty surreal, ngl. This was so long ago, and it's not like the corresponding mental state that went along with it is 'like it was yesterday' because I'm an aphant and I have a shoddy memory. I was processing soooo much in my real life by writing this- or rather, at the time it was very much like being overcome. I don't quite recall if I had started a meditation regimen at that time- very early into it, if so. 

Any other Fandom Olds looking back on their original stories like this? What are your thoughts, returning to them after so long? 

Weirdly enough, it's not even that I relate to Toph's story directly- only a few odds and ends details vaguely paralleled my life. But I did wonder if the themes in it got across. If, when it referred to the throng of wolfbats, people grasped how that was related to the collection of overlapping past lives at the end. 

All the 'flavors' of lies, are interesting. 

It's odd to look back on the 'politicians and executives' line, implicitly comparing them to Toph, knowing what I know about the real world now, and having written a pretty extensive non-fiction treatise on it. 

(ok so it AROSE via a fanfiction, sure, but it was speaking on the real world. I even separated it out as an essay. Ever had anything like that?) 

Conversely, for those without refined upbringings, the notion of 'innocent rage' has probably spared me /a lot/ of anguish over my lifetime, concerning how you are to deal with news stories, encounters where people are behaving badly, etc. 

Spookily, I just listened to some Buddhist Parables that emphasizes similar things to the 'separation and reunite' wisdoms, but I do not remember reading or hearing those particular ones /before/ writing this. 

Could be just coincidence, I suppose.