Enjoy (a picture in the comments)
—ARE YOU SAYING THE FIRE TEMPLE WAS DESTROYED BY A PLAN THAT NOBODY AUTHORIZED!? —roared General Ryaku, his fist smashing down on the table and splitting it in half.
The papers from the report flew into the air, and the gathered generals barely managed to restrain their reactions. Some stepped back from the broken area, others looked at him with clenched jaws and sweat running down their temples.
—Two hundred soldiers dead, FOUR sages assassinated, FORTY deserters, and TWO ships missing! —spat Ryaku, his face burning with fury—. And nobody knew anything! Zhao mobilized an army, set traps, and planned everything behind our backs!
—How the hell did he manage to move so many men without anyone noticing?! —bellowed General Kumai, dragging a bench violently—. Where were the supervisors?! Where were the deployment reports?!
—MORE IMPORTANT! —shouted another general, pale with rage—. WHAT THE HELL WAS HE TRYING TO DO?!
Ryaku took the report. His hand trembled with rage as he read aloud:
—"Zhao summoned troops to the Fire Temple with the objective of eliminating the Avatar."
A disbelieving laugh came from one of the eldest.
—"Eliminate the Avatar"? That was the plan?! That's why he mobilized a whole damn covert operation?! And the worst part? He failed! He didn't even kill him!
—And not only did he fail! —shouted Kumai—. He left us a political and military scar! He messed with the Fire Sages! With the sanctuary!
Ryaku threw the report to the ground violently.
—And the Avatar is still alive! And the only two confirmed enemies were a kid with a spear and his sister!
One of the generals scoffed.
—They didn't even have elemental control?
—NO! —roared Ryaku—. According to the surviving sage, the young man only used a spear. The report calls him "Sokka, Chief of the Southern Water Tribe." A tribal chief ended a full military operation.
They all fell silent. Not because they were calm, but because they couldn't believe what they were hearing.
—And Zhao left nothing behind? —muttered Kumai through clenched teeth—. No reports, no strategy, no damn motive?
Ryaku looked at him, not answering immediately. His breath was a roar.
—No! According to the report, he was bargaining with a spirit.
—WHAT SPIRIT WAS THAT!? —spat one of the veterans—. Since when do we obey entities that appear out of nowhere with promises of power!?
—Damn Zhao! He dragged us to the absolute ridicule! —howled Ryaku, kicking what was left of the table.
Then, a different silence fell. Denser.
Everyone knew what was coming.
Ryaku swallowed, barely regaining control.
—Someone must inform the Fire Lord.
The generals looked at each other. No one spoke. Some even looked away. Not out of cowardice… but because they knew what it meant.
Ryaku was the only one who did not move.
—I'll do it —he said, his voice hoarse—. I am the highest-ranking officer in the affected region. This disgrace… is mine.
He walked toward the large door decorated with golden dragons.
Each step echoed like a death drum.
The guards saw him approach. One of them opened his mouth, but Ryaku stopped him with a gesture.
He knocked on the door three times.
A moment of silence.
Then, the voice they feared.
—Enter.
The door opened with a heavy creak. Fire illuminated the dark walls. The heat grew with every step, but it was a dry, silent heat, like the antechamber of a sleeping volcano.
And upon entering, he knew this room… was a battlefield worse than any war front.
—Lord, I... I bring news —he said, his voice tense, almost breaking.
Ozai watched him from behind the curtain of fire. His face was not clear, but the silhouette spoke for itself: rigid, dominant, immovable.
—Speak —he ordered. His deep voice did not raise, but the air seemed to grow heavier.
—Zhao... he planned an unauthorized attack against the Avatar...
With those words, the general began to report. Each phrase spoken was a step closer to the abyss. Each fact —each error, each loss— made the temperature in the room rise unbearably.
Despite sitting, the Fire Lord radiated absolute power. His breathing was deep, measured, synchronized with the constant roar of the flames before him.
—Anything else? —he finally asked, in that cold voice that seemed to come from the very heart of a dormant volcano.
—The ship barricade in the ocean suffered heavy damage, sir. When two of the ships exploded, they damaged eight more. And... and the deserters took two others —the general's voice faded, weakened by fear.
Before his soldiers, he was a feared, imposing commander. But before the empire's ruler, before the most feared Fire Lord in decades... he was just a boy trapped in the presence of something beyond his understanding.
—Tell me about that boy the report mentions.
—The report describes him as a warrior from the Southern Water Tribe. He uses a spear, has no elemental control… but his sister is a waterbender. It also mentions the boy is too fast for common soldiers. And… he's fifteen years old.
—Are you telling me —Ozai's voice barely rose, like a tide warning of a storm— that a single youth, from a miserable, dying tribe, with no real training, was able to destroy a commander's plan?
A dry, contemptuous laugh slid through the flames.
—M-m'lord… the sage Shyu said the boy introduced himself as Sokka. "The Chief of the Southern Water Tribe," according to his words.
—The chief of a dying tribe —Ozai repeated mockingly, his voice now dangerously sharp—. Without resources. Without an army. Without reputation. And yet… he is dismantling the camps we set up in the Earth Kingdom, thwarted the destruction of the Hei Bai Forest —the region's main timber source— and destroyed the naval barricade.
A silence. Cutting.
—All because you failed to control Zhao… the very Zhao you recommended for a promotion.
—M-m'lord, I…
—Silence!
The roar was brutal. The heat intensified until it became suffocating. The general felt his skin burn, as if inside an oven.
—Not only has that brat made you look like novices —Ozai continued, venomous—. There's also a Southern waterbender. Something that was supposed to no longer exist.
The general barely stood. Sweat ran down his face. The air was fire.
—Despite Zhao's final insubordination —Ozai said after a few seconds, regaining a chilling tone— his strategy to capture the Avatar and attack the Northern Water Tribe has merit. But you will not be in charge.
The general raised his eyes, confused.
—Someone smarter. More disciplined. More loyal... will take command.
Then, the final sentence:
—Azula. From now on, you will be in charge of capturing the Avatar… and commanding the attack on the North Pole.
Earth Kingdom Forest
Katara and Aang walked among the tall, leafy trees. They had left Sokka resting by a small pond. His body still suffered from the battle at the Fire Temple, and although Katara had tried to heal him for several days, his waterbending no longer worked. At his brother's suggestion, she and Aang went out to explore the area.
Katara understood the message behind his words: Sokka would heal himself.
She didn't fully understand why he hid his abilities from Aang, but she no longer questioned it. He had his reasons.
Aang, however, could not hide his unease.
During his conversation with Roku, the previous Avatar had spoken to him about Sokka. About how he seemed not to sleep, about his speed, about his presence. Roku even suggested he might not be entirely human. A spirit, perhaps.
Aang refused to listen. He wouldn't believe it. He himself had seen Sokka fight for others, protect his sister, and put the welfare of his people before his own. No… he couldn't be an evil spirit. Sokka was stubborn, yes, but also loyal.
—Do you think he'll be okay? —asked Aang, his voice tinged with worry.
Katara looked at him with a slight frown.
—Yes. Maybe he just needs to sleep… and eat. —She sighed.
Aang looked away as they walked.
—Have you seen him sleep? —he finally asked.
—What? —Katara turned, confused.
—I mean, since we've been traveling… I've never seen him sleep. I get tired, you get tired. But he's always awake.
Katara paused for a few seconds. Her annoyance grew.
—Since we were kids, Sokka slept little. —Her voice softened—. After his burns… he changed. A lot. Gran Gran told me that at first nightmares wouldn't let him rest, but over time, his body just… adapted.
She stayed silent for a few seconds.
—I don't remember ever seeing him sleep since then. Maybe he did when I was already asleep, but I never knew for sure. When the sun rose, he was already doing something.
Aang felt Roku's words lose weight. Maybe… he really was human. Only he had suffered more than anyone knew.
But just as he was about to reply, a sharp noise made them stop. Branches shook. Leaves fell. And then, a group of youths burst from the trees, attacking without warning.
One of them, wielding a pair of hook swords, charged at Aang. The Avatar dodged with the grace of an airbending master, spinning and leaping with his staff, blocking and retreating precisely.
Katara, without her water pouch, clung to the style Sokka had taught her more than a year ago. She struck with fists and elbows, dodging determinedly.
But then, arrows flew toward her.
Too fast.
Aang immediately turned and unleashed a gust of wind with all his strength. The arrows deflected, the attackers were thrown into the bushes and earth, and for a moment, silence returned to the forest.
Katara gasped. Aang didn't take his eyes off the group.
—Who are these guys? —Aang stayed alert, watching tensely the youths that had come from the trees.
Then, a figure appeared walking casually, as if they hadn't just attacked them. He had a stalk of wheat in his mouth and a confident smile on his face.
—You're an airbender! —he exclaimed, genuinely surprised. He stopped a few steps away, raising his hands in peace—. Wow, that's not something you see every day.
Aang blinked, still holding his staff up. —Uh… yes. I'm Aang. The Avatar, actually.
The boy whistled, one eyebrow raised, impressed.
—The Avatar? That explains the wind. Interesting… —he stroked his chin thoughtfully, then smiled sideways—. I'm Jet. And these are the Freedom Fighters.
Katara looked at him cautiously, still breathing hard. Her first impulse was anger. Attack just to see if they were dangerous? But when Jet spoke, his voice had that strange mix of cheekiness and calm. Like everything was under control. Like everything was always under his control.
—Is this how you greet people in this forest? —she said, crossing her arms, though less hostile than before.
—Sorry, with the Avatar's clothes, we thought you were enemies —he replied with a crooked smile—. We had to make sure you weren't Fire Nation soldiers. You know… caution.
Katara snorted quietly but didn't respond. And then, as she looked at him—standing in front of everyone, talking like it was his territory—something hit her unexpectedly: he reminded her of Sokka. Not in his clothes or way of speaking… it was how people followed him, how he radiated an aura of a natural leader.
—My brother would beat you in a debate about tactics —she murmured more to herself, but Jet heard.
—Brother?
She blinked. She hadn't meant to say much, but somehow he pulled it out of her.
—Sokka. He's the Chief of the Southern Water Tribe.
Jet tilted his head, as if surprised. —A tribal chief? At your age?
—He's older than me, he's fifteen —Katara replied, raising her chin a bit—. He's strong, fast… and yes, stubborn. But he knows what he's doing. He's been leading our tribe for years.
Jet nodded, as if evaluating something.
—Sounds like an interesting guy.
Katara felt a warm pride in her chest. It was strange to say, but talking about Sokka like that, in the middle of that unknown forest… it felt good.
—Want to join us at our camp? —Jet asked—. We can share some food. No one fights better on an empty stomach.
Aang smiled. Katara hesitated for a second… —First, we have to get Sokka, he's been alone by the pond for over 40 minutes. —She said worriedly.
Jet nodded as he followed Katara and Aang through the forest.
For over thirty minutes on the way to fetch Sokka, Jet felt curious about him and asked Katara, who with enthusiasm never seen before spoke about her brother.
—And then, in the Earth Kingdom forest, he managed to lead the villagers in battle, we won without losing anyone or killing.
Jet listened with genuine interest, nodding occasionally, but Aang could barely concentrate. He walked a step behind, silent, hands at the sides of his tunic, frowning slightly.
—Not to mention that less than a year ago, when Sokka traveled through the South Pole in search of wood, he found other small villages of our tribe being attacked. —She said excitedly—. After several more expeditions, he found more people in small settlements and cave dwellers, managed to gather them all and used Fire Nation ships for fishing!
Jet whistled, impressed.
—Sounds like someone who'd make a good partner with us. Smart, brave… even merciful. Not bad for a "tribal chief."
—He's the best —Katara said without thinking. Her tone was warm, almost sweet. Aang pressed his lips upon hearing her.
He didn't mind her speaking well of Sokka. After all, he was her brother. But there was something else. The way she walked beside him. The way Jet looked at her. The laughter they shared between anecdotes. All of it stuck in his stomach like an uncomfortable stone.
He tried to intervene several times, but the words dried on his tongue. What could he say? "I have stories too"? "Look, I'm the Avatar"? He felt out of place, like a shadow behind two people speaking the same language.
—And when the Southern Water Tribe was attacked, he was the first to organize everyone. Even the adults listened without arguing —Katara added, briefly turning toward Aang as if expecting him to confirm.
Aang forced a smile. —Yes… Sokka is great.
Katara nodded enthusiastically and turned her attention back to Jet. He, for his part, seemed genuinely fascinated.
—Wow, and here I thought you were the amazing one in the family.
Katara blushed slightly, lowering her gaze a bit, though her smile didn't fade.
For the first time that day, Aang wished the path to the pond was shorter. Or that Jet would stop smiling so much. Or that Katara would stop laughing as if she didn't notice he was there too.
But he said nothing, because as if the universe heard him, an explosion echoed nearby.
—What was that? —Katara asked, worried.
—Sounds like it's coming from where Sokka and Appa are! —Aang answered, concerned for his friends' safety.
Katara and Aang ran at full speed, followed by their new friends.
Fear was written on their faces, fear and anger.
Didn't they have the right to a simple day of peace? Katara thought sadly.
When a second explosion echoed through the forest, they saw smoke and a tree fall, their pace quickened.
When they arrived, they felt relief and confusion.
Sokka was sitting on a fallen log, ignoring the splinters and branches around him, eating meat with a serious expression.

Jet thought he looked better than what Katara and Aang had described.
And the Avatar's face was similar; he didn't understand how he could look so healthy when, just over an hour ago, he had been very weak.
Sokka looked up, confused to see so many people around him.
"When I said you'd find something interesting, I didn't mean a bunch of lost kids." Sokka pointed at the Freedom Fighters with his piece of meat.
Katara ignored his words and spoke with worry and anger. "What were those explosions a while ago?"
"Nothing, I just knocked down some trees because I wanted to eat. I feel much better now," Sokka replied as if it were obvious, tossing the last bone to the ground.
Everyone watched as the skull of what looked like a moose, along with its entire skeleton, lay on the ground.
"You must be Sokka," Jet said enthusiastically to the dark-skinned young man.
"Yeah. Do we know each other?" he asked, pretending not to.
Jet smiled, amused by Sokka's attitude.
"No, but your sister hasn't stopped talking about you. You're almost like a walking legend."
"Oh, really?" Sokka raised an eyebrow as he grabbed a canteen he had left beside the log. "Well, I'm glad to know Katara is using her free time wisely to start my fan club."
Katara scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous."
Jet let out a brief laugh, but his gaze didn't leave Sokka, studying him with curiosity. The other Freedom Fighters were also watching him, especially Smellerbee, who whispered something to Longshot. He simply nodded, his eyes never leaving the young man who had caused an explosion just to cook.
Aang walked over to Appa, who was dozing peacefully a few meters away, showing no signs of alarm. He stroked the creature's fur affectionately, as if seeking some stability.
"Sokka, you could've warned us. We thought you were being attacked," Aang said, a mix of reproach and relief in his tone.
"And miss the look on all your faces running like the world was ending? No, thanks," Sokka replied with a barely noticeable smile. Then he looked at Jet. "And who are you?"
"Jet. Leader of the Freedom Fighters," he said proudly. "We resist the Fire Nation from the shadows. And you… you seem like someone who knows how to make his enemies tremble."
Sokka stood up, stretching calmly. His muscles stood out proudly beneath his clothes. He had no visible weapons, but he didn't need any to command respect. Jet noticed.
"I do what I have to do," he said simply, and Jet gave a pleased smile.
Katara looked at him with a mix of affection and resignation. She sometimes forgot how much he had changed in such a short time. He wasn't just her brother anymore… he was someone else. Someone who had seen things she didn't fully understand.
"You might want to come to our camp," Jet offered. "We have food, shelter… and maybe you could tell us more about your exploits. I'm interested in meeting someone who can use an entire forest as a kitchen."
Sokka looked at him for a second, sizing him up. Then he glanced at Katara, then at Aang, and finally locked eyes with Jet again.
"I guess a little company won't hurt… as long as no one tries to steal my meat."
Smellerbee scoffed. "What meat? You ate a whole moose by yourself!"
"I was hungry," Sokka answered seriously.
Jet smiled even wider. He liked this guy.
"Welcome to the group, tribal chief."
Sokka didn't answer immediately, but a shadow of a smile crossed his face as he picked up his spear.
"Let's go then. But if any of you touches Appa, I'm throwing you in the river."
Aang couldn't help but laugh as he allowed the 10 people to climb onto Appa.
After several minutes flying, Jet asked Aang to land, saying they'd continue on foot now, as they didn't want any enemies to spot them.
"So…" Katara said as they walked next to Jet, a little behind the group. "You live out here in the forest? With no help?"
"That's right," he answered with a relaxed smile. "We've learned to move unseen, hunt what we need, and make every village occupied by the Fire Nation tremble when they hear the Freedom Fighters are near."
"That's impressive," Katara said, clearly fascinated. "Everything you do… and at such a young age."
Jet shrugged modestly.
"You do what you have to do to survive. And to protect those who can't fight for themselves."
Katara lowered her gaze slightly, smiling. "That's… admirable. Really."
Jet glanced sideways at her, and for a moment, the smile he gave was softer, less arrogant. Katara felt her face heat up and pretended to fix her hair to hide it.
Aang, watching them from the corner of his eye, kept walking silently. He said nothing, but his gaze was fixed on his feet, as if the ground was the only thing worth looking at.
The group followed a path through the trees and finally arrived at the Freedom Fighters' hideout. It was a series of wooden cabins hanging among the trees like a small aerial fort. Ropes, pulleys, and hanging bridges connected the structures, and a lit campfire in the center of the clearing gave the place a warm glow.
"Welcome home," Jet said, spreading his arms.
Sokka raised an eyebrow, looking around.
"An improvised treetop fort, in rough terrain and surrounded by dense vegetation? Not bad."
Smellerbee looked at him suspiciously. "Is that sarcasm?"
"No," he replied in a neutral tone. "Just analyzing. The position is hard to spot from the air, there are plenty of escape routes, and the trees act as natural defense. Though if it were me, I'd reinforce the anchor points on those platforms. They're too exposed to fire or rope cuts."
Longshot tilted his head, curious. Jet also looked at him with interest.
"You know strategy?"
"A bit." Sokka dropped his bag and sat on a rock. "I had to organize patrols on my own, set up watchtowers, and fend off several attacks."
Jet crossed his arms, impressed. "And all that without being a bender?"
Sokka shook his head. "Just using what's available. Traps, terrain, weather, psychology. The best strike is the one they never see coming."
Smellerbee looked at Jet again, now with a more respectful expression. Longshot simply nodded once.
"What kind of traps did you use?" Jet asked, genuinely interested.
"Depends. Some to confuse, others to capture, and others to force the enemy to split up. If you know what they fear, you can make them think they're losing before the fight even starts."
Katara sat nearby, smiling proudly.
"He's always been like that. When there was nothing, he found a way to make it work."
Jet looked at Sokka with new eyes. He was no longer just Katara's funny brother. There was something behind that serious gaze and measured responses.
"We could learn a lot from you," he finally said.
Sokka just nodded. "And I from you. Though first… I need a second moose."
Jet burst out laughing.
"That'll be hard, tribal chief. Around here, moose don't show up twice."
Sokka laughed, his voice echoing through the area.
As the sun set among the treetops, the Freedom Fighters gathered in the central clearing. Sokka, still chewing on a piece of dried meat, stood when Jet invited him to show some of his combat style.
"Are you sure you can move after downing half a moose?" Smellerbee asked skeptically.
"I can move better than most, even with a full one in my stomach," Sokka replied, spinning his makeshift spear before leaning it against a log.
He got into position with controlled, agile movements. His feet moved with purpose, his torso stayed low, and every spin of his body combined strength, balance, and precision. It wasn't as flashy as Katara's waterbending or as dramatic as firebending, but his style was direct, brutal, and efficient.
He knocked over a training dummy with a sweep and elbow combo, then landed a spinning kick that split a thin post in half.
"Doesn't look like he needs many tricks," Jet said, arms crossed.
"I don't need them if I make sure the other guy doesn't get back up," Sokka replied, returning to stance naturally.
Meanwhile, Katara walked beside Jet, watching her brother with a mix of pride and concern.
"He wasn't always like this," she confessed. "He used to be clumsy… even funny. But when the Fire Nation killed our mother, everything changed too fast."
Jet looked at her with understanding.
"And you? Were you always such a good waterbender?"
"No, I only started to master it recently. Back in the South Pole, any progress felt like a miracle. Sokka tried to teach me, but I refused."
Jet gave her a sincere smile. "You're strong, Katara. The kind of strength that can't be taught."
Katara looked down, blushing, and didn't answer right away. Sokka's voice pulled her out of the moment.
"Jet? You said you wanted to talk more about strategy. Shall we?"
Jet nodded and led Sokka to one of the elevated platforms. The cabin they entered was more reinforced than the rest, with maps spread across makeshift tables and hand-drawn sketches of villages, patrol routes, and hideouts.
Jet pointed to a spot on the map.
"This is the nearest village. It's under Fire Nation control. I want to destroy it… with a dam we'll build to flood it. The water will do the dirty work."
Sokka frowned. He knew from the show Jet would do that, but he didn't expect him to admit it so soon.
"How sure are you that everyone there is a soldier?" he asked, trying to make the young man see reason. It was stupid—but he could be useful.
"I'm not," Jet admitted. "But if they live under their protection, they're part of the problem."
"And the children? The elderly? Those who can't defend themselves?"
Jet remained silent.
"Everyone has a choice," he finally said. "We lost our villages. Our families. Now it's their turn."
Sokka looked at him in disappointment. He seemed blinded by his own rage.
"You're not a warrior. You're a coward with an excuse. Your plan isn't just stupid—it's cruel."
Jet faced him coldly.
"Stupid?"
"Yes. You know what cowards do? They attack the weak and hide behind trauma to justify it. You want to kill innocents because you don't know how to face the real enemy. You're not a leader. Just a wounded boy, afraid of losing again."
Jet's face hardened. In a second, he kicked Sokka in the chest.
Sokka let himself be hit. He wanted everyone outside—especially Aang and Katara—to know not all people who looked like allies were good.
The blow launched him backwards, breaking part of the wooden cabin wall. His body crashed through the planks, shattered the outer railing, and fell to the ground from a considerable height, landing among leaves, dirt, and splinters.
A loud crash alerted everyone nearby.
Katara was the first to scream.
"SOKKA?!"
The Freedom Fighters stood up immediately, confused. Some ran to the impact site. Aang quickly descended from one of the bridges, followed by Katara.
Jet exited the cabin with a tense expression but said nothing.
"What the hell happened?" Smellerbee asked.
Aang knelt next to Sokka, who was coughing and trying to sit up, splinters in his shoulder and dirt on his face.
"Are you okay?" Katara asked, her voice trembling with worry.
Sokka wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. His gaze slowly rose to Jet.
"That idiot… can't stand losing an argument." Sokka replied as he told them what Jet was planning.
"You're all cowards!" Jet shouted from the broken walkway above. "Don't you see?! The Fire Nation will never change!"
Katara stared at him in horror. "But they're civilians! Whole families! Children!"
"So what?!" Jet looked down at her, eyes blazing. "Your mother died because of them! Have you forgotten?! They won't forget, Katara! They'll destroy us if we don't strike first!"
Several Freedom Fighters grouped behind Jet. Smellerbee tensed, hand near her weapon.
"He's right…" she muttered. "They started this."
Pipsqueak looked at Aang, then Jet, and finally got ready. "I don't agree… but I won't let anyone hurt Jet."
In an instant, the tension exploded. Aang slid across the ground, dodging a strike from Smellerbee, while Katara formed a water whip to stop Longshot. The fight erupted in shouts, leaves, and splashes.
Jet barely smiled… until he felt Sokka's gaze on him.
The young warrior slowly rose from the ground, not a trace of pain on his face, brushing the dust off his shoulder. His spear was far away, leaning in a corner of the destroyed strategy room.
"You know," Sokka said, walking toward him unhurriedly, his steps calm, his body relaxed, "I'm surprised your followers are willing to die for a coward like you. A wounded child seeking revenge for something he doesn't understand."
Jet growled, drawing his hook swords. "Shut up! You don't understand anything!"
"I understand more than you think," Sokka replied, still moving forward. "I know what it's like to lose someone. I know what it means to hate. But that doesn't make me a killer."
Jet lunged like lightning at Sokka, swinging his hook swords with deadly, precise movements. The blades sliced through the air with a threatening hum, forcing Sokka to dodge with light, agile steps, never losing sight of his opponent.
At first, Sokka pretended to be overwhelmed. He backed off, rolled on the ground, even purposely tripped over an exposed root, drawing a confident laugh from Jet.
"Is that all? The great strategist, the leader of his village? I thought you'd have more guts," Jet taunted, spinning one of his swords to try and hook Sokka's ankle.
Sokka rolled backward, stood cleanly, and raised his hands in a mocking gesture of surrender.
"Sorry, are you trying to impress me with those little blades? I figured a tragic, morally gray figure would at least have some originality. But nope. Just another guy with sharp weapons and unresolved trauma."
Jet clenched his teeth and lunged again—but this time, Sokka stopped holding back.
At close range, Jet tried to maintain his advantage by using the hooks to trap and control Sokka's movements. But Sokka, with a crooked grin, slid under one of the swords and delivered a swift upward blow to Jet's abdomen.
"Ugh!" Jet staggered back, surprised.
"What's wrong? Didn't expect an unarmed guy to know how to fight?" Sokka spun, elbowed him, then followed with a direct punch to the face that made Jet stumble.
"You don't understand! No one understands! That village is feeding the enemy. If we let them live, they'll just keep helping the Fire Nation!"
"And killing civilians doesn't make you a hero, Jet! It makes you a coward!" Sokka shoved him against a tree, then kicked him in the chest, sending him crashing back and splitting the tree trunk. "Your pain doesn't give you the right to become the monster you hate."
Jet screamed and charged again, attacking with a desperate chain of blows, but Sokka, completely in control, dodged gracefully, waiting for the right moment. When Jet missed a horizontal slash, Sokka stepped into his guard, spun, and delivered a powerful punch to the side of his jaw. Jet dropped to his knees, gasping, his swords buried in the ground.
The Freedom Fighters, who had been fighting Aang and Katara, froze upon seeing their leader taken down. All turned to look. Silence fell like a weight.
Sokka stood firm, fists still clenched.
"This isn't justice. This is revenge. And spare me the cheap speeches, Jet. You don't want to save anyone. You just want someone else to suffer like you did."
Jet looked up, his lip bleeding, eyes full of hatred… and something else. Shame?
Smellerbee stepped forward, weapon still in hand, but slowly let it fall.
"Jet... We have to stop."
Longshot swallowed and nodded. He was already tired of destroying and looting villages that only ended up feeding enemy soldiers.
Jet swallowed hard but couldn't respond. The evidence was right in front of everyone.
Aang lowered his staff. Katara slowly walked toward Sokka, and for the first time since they met the Freedom Fighters, she didn't look at Jet with admiration—but with sorrow.
"Thanks for not letting me fall into that," she murmured.
Sokka didn't respond immediately. He simply let out a sigh and looked at the group.
"You could've done so much good—liberating villages, stopping raids—but you blinded yourselves with your own tragedy."
Silence hung for a few more seconds… until Jet finally lowered his head.
"You and I are the same!" Jet shouted desperately. "No matter how much you deny it, we both do whatever it takes to protect our people, no matter the cost in lives!" Sokka smiled. In part, he was right—but he couldn't be more wrong. "Your past will make you become me."
Sokka did have a purpose. He killed soldiers who showed no shame or remorse. But even that… was a desperate lie.
"No, Jet. There's a difference between us," Sokka said, turning away. "We both looked into the abyss..." —he quoted a phrase that fit the moment— "but when it looked back at us… you blinked."
And with that, Sokka walked away, leaving everyone steeped in the tension of what had just happened.
Katara clenched her fists. Jet hadn't just betrayed his cause—he had torn away her hope of finding a place where they might belong, outside their Tribe. Maybe… if he had told her his plan from the beginning… maybe, just maybe, she would've fallen too.
Aang's eyes rested on Jet, still on his knees, face marked by defeat, and then on Sokka, who said nothing, just stared firmly.
"I…" Aang began, but his voice cracked.
He looked around: armed children, confused, with broken ideologies. Was this war? Kids fighting over hatred disguised as justice?
"This isn't what a freedom group should be," he finally said, his voice soft but clear. "Saving people… shouldn't mean destroying innocents."
His words hung heavy in the air. Aang didn't mean to hurt Jet or the others. He just understood that the damage was already done.
Then he turned to Sokka and nodded with respect, without needing to say anything. He had seen his friend fight not just with his body—but with his heart. And he had won on both fronts.
They left toward the forest. The journey was silent and sad for the two younger ones, but Sokka was thinking about something else.
His spear—his weapon of choice—was badly worn, and he needed to replace it. A memory came to him, of a spear in the Spirit World—one that radiated pure power. He wondered if Naenia knew about it.
When they were finally about to leave on Appa, Sokka paused, looked at them, and said calmly:
"Give me a few minutes, please. I want to make sure there aren't any hidden traps."
Aang nodded. That was what he liked most about Sokka.
However, as the young Southern chief walked into the trees, he spoke the name of the spirit woman who was now his servant.
"Naenia."
As if summoned by divine command, the wicked lady emerged from a spirit portal. Sokka was surprised that a spirit could do that, but he reasoned maybe that's why so many were now in the physical plane.
"Yes, my lord?" Naenia's voice came out sweet and servile.
"Can you make a copy of me from vines or something like that?"
The spirit woman was surprised by the question but responded quickly:
"Yes, I can. I can even give it a few of your memories if you infuse it with your Chi. But it will be green."
Sokka's eyes widened in surprise. He hadn't expected it to be that functional, but he was grateful.
"Do it. I'll take care of the skin."
She nodded, and vines and branches emerged from the ground. With strange noises, they formed a body identical to Sokka's—completely naked, the only difference being its skin.
Sokka looked at it neutrally while holding several pieces of fabric. With surgical precision, he infused his Chi into them, molding and changing their texture and color at will.
Naenia watched in surprise as the meters of cloth now looked like skin, and even more surprised when Sokka applied it to the clone's body. Its appearance was exactly the same as Sokka's, even down to the clothes he had just replicated.
"How do I give it my memories?"
"Place your hands on the clone's forehead and chest, and channel your energy into it. Focus the memories into the Chi you're transferring."
Sokka nodded silently. He could manipulate his energy at will—this was nothing more than a game.
He poured his mind into the artificial copy of himself. He wasn't worried about giving it too much Chi—his reserves were vast.
When his hands pulled away, the clone's eyes opened.
It examined its body, and a smile formed on its lips.
When it tried to speak, its voice came out as a screech, a pained whisper.
Sokka looked at Naenia with annoyance.
"Please wait while I fix its voice."
Sokka stood by while the clone made odd sounds until it finally spoke with his exact voice.
"This is amazing. I feel like a wrapped lettuce."
Sokka smiled.
"How long will it last? And how does it compare to me?"
"It can last two weeks before needing to recharge with your Chi, my lord. And it's completely independent from me; I have no control over its actions."
"That's true. I don't sense her at all."
"Good. Go join Aang and Katara. Protect them," Sokka said seriously.
The clone nodded and left. Its speed was impressive, but Sokka estimated it was only 45% as strong as himself.
Naenia watched the clone mount Appa alongside Katara and spoke with satisfaction:
"What now, my lord?"
"Take me to the Spirit World. I want you to bring me to the spirits under your control, and then to a spirit who has a spear."
Naenia looked at him in surprise, with a hint of anger for having to use the spirits she had under her power.
"There's only one spirit who uses a spear. But h
e's very dangerous."
Sokka stared at her silently, unfazed by her warning.