The Warrior's Gambit (Zutara)

VIII

IT WAS 60 DEGREES HERE TODAY. SPRING IS COMING. I KNOW IT IS.

"Well, go on, pick one up," Sword Master Piandao instructed. "Attack me."

Katara sat on the pile of cushions a maid had taken care to drag out to the zen garden where Sokka would be meeting his instructor. There was an array of swords shoved into the sand, and Sokka wound around their hilts with a careful examination, wiggling one or two there, flicking one here. Katara resisted the urge to roll her eyes; she knew exactly what sword he'd go for. This was all for show, to act like he was some great connoisseur of metal weapons.

Katara, of course, was not allowed to formally take part in these lessons. She was left to sit against the wall, in the shade, sipping iced tea while attempting to soak up any and all information she could. It would only be later, after the official lesson, when she could pick up a sword of her own to spar against Sokka. This way, Piandao could examine Sokka's stance as an observer, and correct to the best of his ability. Katara, however, was going to learn despite the hoops she had to jump through to even be here.

As it was, she was fairly sure Sokka was ignoring her.

She had thought, once they'd disembarked from the ship, that drunk Sokka was the best Sokka to ask about that 'girl' he'd almost told her about. However, at the very mention, he'd clammed up. Katara had pestered, to little avail. He'd lied (very unconvincingly) that it didn't matter, that this girl didn't like him anyway, that he was already over it. Then he'd barfed on her shoes, and that had pretty much ended that sisterly confrontation. She still wasn't sure he hadn't done it on purpose.

Since then, since Katara smelled bullshit a mile away, he had been harder to pin down than Toph usually was. This should have given her an indication that whatever, or whoever it was, it was dangerous. But weren't they all playing with danger, even knowing who Aang was? What was one more ticking time bomb of a secret to add to their ever growing collective list?

She would edge it out of him sooner or later. She was his sister; she knew exactly which buttons to push.

Case in point; Sokka finally settled on a sword near the back of the sand bowl, one that resembled a Southern Carving Axe most prominently. The one Katara knew he'd gravitate toward. Southern Carving Axes, while mostly used to cleave off meat from the carcasses of whales and seals, made terrifying weapons in the heat of battle nonetheless. This wasn't exactly one of their axes, but it was shorter than a traditional sword and curved a little in the blade.

Sokka picked it up, switching it between his palms to work out the equilibrium, before looking at Piandao.

"Please," he repeated, "attack me. I'll even give you a leg up and turn around."

Sokka gave a haughty chuckle. "Okay, but don't say that you didn't ask for this..."

Sokka raised the sword above his head, gave a battle cry that would make the spirits quiver before him, and ran right at Piandao. Katara watched as Piandao, moving lightly on his feet, easily side-stepped Sokka. Before Sokka could turn, Piandao had hooked his heels with the hilt of his own sword, sending Sokka face-first into the sand. Sokka lifted his head, shaking the particles from his hair and wiping them from his tongue. He went to grab his sword, but Piandao put his heel on it, shoving it just out of Sokka's reach. Piandao drove his own sword inches away from Sokka's head, and knelt down. His whole face was bright with amusement.

"How'd I do?" Sokka asked.

"Dismal," Pinadro said, grinning. "But not hopeless."

"Hear that, Katara? I'm not hopeless!" Sokka said, puffing out his chest as he sat up.