The sun hung high in the sky, casting a silvery light over a small village of the Southern Water Tribe. The few tents and igloos glowed softly, reflecting the gleam of the ice that covered the ground. The air was bitterly cold, filled with the scent of the sea and the distant sound of waves crashing against the icebergs.
In the center of the village, beside a large bonfire, a group of children sat in a circle, laughing and clapping while twelve-year-old Katara told an animated story, gesturing with her hands to mimic the flight of a seabird.
"Then the bird flew so high it almost touched the stars!" Katara exclaimed, her blue eyes sparkling with joy as she watched the little ones having fun. She stretched out her arms, pretending to be wings, and the children squealed with delight, some trying to imitate her movements, stumbling in the snow and falling into fits of laughter.
"How didn't it freeze up there, Katara?" asked a little girl with braids, her eyes wide with curiosity.
Katara smiled. "Because the higher it went, the closer it got to the Sun." She was pretty sure that wasn't how it worked, but the kids didn't need to know that.
Suddenly, a loud huff interrupted the laughter. Sokka, thirteen years old, walked into the village, his face twisted into a scowl that seemed far too big for his skinny body. He carried a spear in one hand and a bucket in the other. His boots left deep marks in the ice, as if he were taking out his frustration on the ground. "Nothing! Again, nothing!" he grumbled, throwing the spear into a snowbank where it stuck, quivering slightly.
The children turned, curious, but Katara sighed, already knowing what it was about. "Sokka, what is it this time?" she asked anyway, arms crossed.
"What is it? What it is, is that I spent the whole day out on that stupid ice, waiting, freezing, and guess what? Not a single lousy fish!" Sokka gestured wildly, his fur hood slipping back to reveal his messy dark brown hair. "Those fish are laughing at me, Katara! Laughing! I think they know it's me and swim away on purpose!"
One of the older kids, a six-year-old boy, laughed out loud. "Maybe you're scaring them away with that ugly face, Sokka!" The other children burst into giggles, and even Katara couldn't hold back a smile.
Sokka turned to the boy, pointing an accusing finger. "You, brat, don't understand the weight of being the man of the village! While you sit around all day, I'm out there trying to make sure we don't starve!" He huffed, crossed his arms, and plopped down on a nearby ice bench, which only made the children laugh harder. "Let's see if you're still laughing when I start training you in a few years," he muttered with a pout.
Katara rolled her eyes and moved closer to her brother, sitting beside him. "Sokka, you need to stop putting so much pressure on yourself. We're all working together to keep things running here. And look, no one's starving. Gran-Gran said we have supplies for several more months." She gave his shoulder a gentle pat, trying to cheer him up.
Sokka huffed again. "That's easy for you to say, Katara. You women only have to worry about simple things, like taking care of the kids and cooking, while I have to deal with the truly important stuff!"
Silence fell over the group. The kids stopped laughing, their eyes wide as they shifted their gaze from Sokka to Katara. The girl froze for a moment, but then a flush of red anger spread across her face. She stood up from the bench, hands on her hips, her voice sharp like an ice spear. "Simple things? Seriously, Sokka? You think taking care of the village, keeping everyone fed and organized, is 'simple'?!"
Sokka stood up too, crossing his arms and raising his voice. "You don't understand what it means to be the man of the village, Katara. I carry all the responsibility while you sit around playing storyteller!"
Katara pointed a finger at Sokka "Who do you think you are, talking about responsibility, huh?! You can't even sew your own pants!"
"Because that's woman stuff!"
"Enough, both of you!" A firm voice cut through the air, breaking up the argument. An older woman, carrying a basket of laundry, walked over to the group. "While you two are bickering like seals fighting over a fish, a small boat is approaching the shore."
Katara and Sokka stopped immediately, their anger momentarily forgotten. The children around them, who had been following the argument, stood up—some stretching their necks to try and see the horizon, others whispering to each other, curious. Katara frowned, exchanging a look with Sokka, who was already running to grab his spear.
"A boat?" Katara asked, turning her eyes to the woman, the concern clear in her voice. "From the Fire Nation?"
"I don't know." The woman shook her head. "It's small—it doesn't look like a military vessel, or one of ours either."
"It can't be from the Fire Nation," Gran-Gran cut in, approaching with the other women from the village, who quickly pulled their children close. The elder, her voice calm but filled with experience, continued, "We have nothing of interest to them anymore."
Katara bit her lip, nervous, the memory of the attack three years ago still fresh in her mind. If something like that happened now, with none of the men around, they'd be slaughtered—or worse.
"Maybe a merchant?" one of the women suggested, holding her child by the hand.
"We haven't had merchants in years," Sokka said seriously, gripping his spear tightly. "If it's not the Fire Nation, it could be bandits. Either way, we need to be ready. All of you stay here while I go check it out."
"I'm going with you!" Katara said instantly, stepping closer to him.
"No. You stay here and hide with the others," Sokka ordered, locking eyes with her before running off toward the village entrance.
Katara stared at her brother's back as he moved away, frustration and fear written across her face. She turned to Gran-Gran, seeking guidance, but the elder just shrugged. "I'm sure it's not as serious as your brother thinks. Let's see who these visitors are."
*******
Outside the icy walls that surrounded the village, Sokka crouched behind a snow mound, his body tense as he watched the small boat come to a stop at the edge of the ice. Only one person disembarked. It was a boy, maybe a few years older than him, with black hair and light clothes that were completely inappropriate for the cold of the South Pole. Two daggers were strapped to his waist, and he carried a shoulder bag hanging at his side.
'He doesn't look like a Fire Nation soldier, but the fact that he's not cold...' Sokka frowned, his heart beating faster as he assessed the stranger. He watched the boy stretch his back, then his legs and arms, moving with a relaxed ease. Then, the stranger started walking toward the village.
Sokka took a deep breath and counted to three. '1... 2... 3—Now!' He jumped out from behind the snowbank, planting himself in the stranger's path with his spear pointed straight at them. "Hey, you! State your intentions for entering my territory—now!"
The boy stopped, his dark eyes studying Sokka with a disconcerting calm before he broke into a friendly smile and raised his hands in surrender. "Easy, easy, I come in peace," he said with a light tone.
Sokka narrowed his eyes, spear still aimed. "That's exactly what a bandit would say!"
"Oh.... you're right," the boy scratched the back of his neck, a bit awkward, though his smile didn't fade. "Well, you must be Sokka, right?... or is this the wrong village?" he finished in a mutter, wondering how likely it was that he'd ended up on the other side of the continent after getting lost. The possibility was pretty high.
"How... how do you know my name?!" Sokka asked, startled, his spear lowering slightly.
"So it really is you!" the boy exclaimed, relieved that he wouldn't have to go back to the boat right away. "As for how I know—your father talks a lot about you and your sister—"
"You met Dad?!" Interrupting their conversation, Katara stopped beside her brother, breathless from running to them.
"Katara! What are you doing here?!" Sokka turned to her, annoyed, only to notice that the whole village—even the children—had come out from the ice walls, completely ignoring his order to stay hidden. "What are all of you—"
"Be quiet!" Katara shoved Sokka's head back, catching him off guard. He stumbled and fell onto his back in the snow with an indignant grunt.
"Katara!"
Katara ignored her brother and focused on the stranger, who was watching the interaction with an amused smile. "You really met our dad? Is he okay?"
The boy nodded. "Yeah. Actually, I've got letters here for all of you." He patted the bag slung over his shoulder, making everyone's eyes light up.
********
A few minutes later, everyone was gathered around the large central bonfire. Some mothers read the letters from their husbands along with their children, while others read them alone before sharing them with their kids, their faces lit by both relief and longing.
Katara held her father's letter with trembling hands, her eyes brimming with tears as she read. The anger that burned in her chest over him leaving—over him abandoning her and Sokka—still pulsed within her, but knowing he was alive and well brought a relief she hadn't felt in a long time. It was as if an invisible weight had been momentarily lifted, allowing her to breathe a little easier.
Wiping her tears with the back of her hand, she looked around. The other women were equally moved—some clutching their children tightly as they read, others weeping quietly. Even the children, normally so rowdy, were silent, some with tears in their eyes.
Her eyes fell on Sokka, sitting beside her. He still held his spear, but now his gaze was glued to the letter, his hands gripping the paper as if afraid it might vanish. Katara knew him well enough to understand that he had read and reread those lines many times, memorizing every phrase.
Then her gaze shifted to the person who had made all this possible. He said his name was Ikari, and now he lay on the snow, arms folded behind his head, a serene smile curving his lips. With his eyes closed, he seemed completely at ease, as though the frigid South Pole air were nothing more than a summer breeze. There was something hypnotic about his calmness, a confidence that seemed to defy the world around him.
Katara found herself studying him intently. He was so different from Sokka. While her brother was—put simply—clumsy, with abrupt movements and expressions swinging between frustration and stubbornness, Ikari exuded an almost magnetic tranquility.
'He seems so sure of himself. Not like Sokka, who's always trying to prove something.' Katara didn't have many points of comparison — after all, Sokka was the only boy close to her age she really knew — but something about Ikari made her think of the stories the village women told, laughing, about 'heart thieves' who could charm with nothing but a smile.
"Have you figured something out?" Sokka's voice broke into her thoughts so abruptly that Katara nearly jumped.
"W‑what?" She turned toward her brother, feeling her cheeks flush.
"I'm asking if you figured something out. You haven't stopped staring at him!" Sokka said, nodding toward Ikari.
Katara blushed fiercely and turned her gaze to the fire. "I wasn't staring at anything!" she shot back, her voice sharper than she intended.
Sokka snorted, folding the letter with exaggerated care before tucking it into his tunic. "Tsk. I always have to handle everything," he muttered, rising with spear in hand, striding over to Ikari with determined steps. "Hey, you!" he called, suspicion thick in his tone. "Care to explain why the village men trusted you with these letters? Are you some kind of messenger or what?"
"Sokka!" Gran‑Gran intervened, casting a sharp look at her grandson. "Don't be rude to the young man!" She turned to Ikari, softening her expression. "I apologize for my grandson. We're not used to hosting outsiders."
Ikari opened his eyes, the calm smile still lingering on his lips, as if Sokka's attitude didn't bother him in the slightest. "It's quite alright, ma'am. Your grandson has every right to be wary. We're at war, after all. It's only natural to distrust even one's own shadow."
Then, he did something that made time seem to stop in the village. With a subtle motion, a gust of air formed beneath him, lifting him off the ground as lightly as a feather. Ikari floated for a few seconds, the wind swirling gently around him, before landing gracefully and placing a hand on the shoulder of a completely stunned Sokka. "But you can let your guard down, Sokka. I would never hurt the family of my friends."
"Y‑you—did you just fly?!" Sokka exclaimed, stepping back, eyes wide, the spear slipping from his fingers and sinking into the snow.
Katara brought a hand to her mouth, her heart pounding. Had she seen that right? Wasn't it just an illusion? He had just controlled the air, hadn't he? Only an airbender could do that! The idea seemed impossible, straight out of the stories Gran-Gran used to tell about the Air Nomads, all wiped out generations ago. But there he was, real, defying everything she believed to be possible.
Everyone around was just as stunned as she was. Except for the children, who, unaware of the weight of the revelation, burst into excitement at seeing him "fly." Some even ran toward Ikari, ignoring their mothers' attempts to hold them back. "How did you do that?" a little girl asked, her eyes shining. "Can I fly too?"
Ikari chuckled—light and genuine—and ruffled her hair gently. "Of course you can! I'll teach you later."
Gran‑Gran, who until then had stood frozen in shock, rose slowly. Her eyes fixed on Ikari, wide with reverence and disbelief. "You… you're an airbender?"
Ikari tilted his head, surprised that there were still people in the world who didn't know about him. "You guys really are isolated out here, huh? Let me introduce myself again, then. I'm Ikari, the last airbender... at least, as far as I know." He lowered his head in a humble bow, the gesture a stark contrast to the weight of his words.
"Ohhh…"
"Wow…"
"A miracle…"
"By the spirits!"
"How?" Katara asked, unable to contain her excitement—not just because of the revelation, but because of the possibilities it opened up before her. 'He's a bender! Maybe he can teach me to control water!—No, more importantly! Maybe he knows what happened to the Avatar or... he might be the Avatar himself!'
Ikari seemed to read her thoughts, raising his hand. "Ah, I know what all of you are thinking. And no, I am not the Avatar." He spoke quickly, used to this kind of conversation by now. "Here's the short version of how I ended up here: my dear great‑grandfather, in his rebellious teenage years, chose to leave the Air Nomads. Two generations later, I was born. End of story. And no, I also don't know what happened to the Avatar."
Katara felt a pang of disappointment—but the thrill of facing an airbender eclipsed everything else.
Sokka, on the other hand, retrieved his spear from the snow, straightening up with the air of someone determined not to be impressed. "Okay, so you're an... airbender. Whatever that means. But you still haven't explained why my dad trusts you."
'That's enough!' Katara lost her patience with her brother and stepped forward, ready to knock some sense into him — but Ikari was faster.
"I imagine that since we've been fighting side by side these past few weeks against the Fire Nation, he came to like me enough."
Sokka's mouth formed a comic 'O.' "Y‑you fought in the war?"
Ikari cocked his head. "Doesn't it seem like it?"
"No way! You're super scrawny, you look about my age, and you don't carry a sword or a spear, just those… tiny little knives!"
Ikari laughed and gestured to the blades at his waist. "Those are daggers, not knives—and they're perfect for my style of combat."
"Your style of combat?"
"Yes, quick and agile."
"I still can't believe- Ow!" Sokka yelped as his ear was yanked.
"Hehe, sorry my brother's being such a pest. He hit his head when he was born," Katara said with an awkward smile to Ikari, before tugging Sokka away.
"Katara, that hurts!" Sokka complained, wriggling away from his sister's grip. "Let go! I haven't even finished interrogating him yet."
Katara ignored him and hauled him away from the fire, only releasing his ear once they'd put enough distance between themselves and the others. "What's your problem, huh? Why are you acting like such an idiot? Don't you get it was thanks to him that we know Dad is okay?"
"I know that," Sokka muttered, rubbing his ear with a look of pain. "It's just… I can't explain it. Every time I look at him, I feel this cold in my gut. Maybe my… instincts are warning me he's dangerous."
"Your instincts?" Katara arched an eyebrow, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Sokka, your instincts are about as reliable as your fishing skills."
"I'm serious, Katara. That guy is dangerous."
"Dad trusted him!" Katara shot back, her voice rising.
"He might have been tricked!"
"Argh! Even you don't believe that!" Katara threw her hands up, exasperated. "You're just jealous because he's... I don't know, he knows how to do things you don't!"
"Jealous? Me? Ha!" Sokka scoffed, but the blush creeping onto his cheeks betrayed him. "I'm just trying to protect us, Katara. Someone around here has to think straight."
She sighed, her expression softening. "Look, Sokka.... I get why you're doing this. But don't you think that, just for today, we could... let go of all our worries? We got news from Dad after months. Let's enjoy this moment." Katara turned her eyes to the fire and gestured with her hand. "Look, does he look dangerous to you?"
Sokka frowned but looked—and saw everyone gathered around Ikari as he made the snow swirl in spirals in his palm... using the air.
"Well?" Katara pressed, raising an eyebrow.
Sokka hesitated. "I... fine," he muttered, defeated, his shoulders slumping. "But I'm keeping an eye on him. If he does anything weird, my spear will be ready."
Katara rolled her eyes, figuring that was probably the best she could get out of him.
********
"Haaa... finally done," Katara sighed, exhausted, as she wrung out the last pair of pants in the basin of hot water. She squeezed it until most of the excess water was gone and placed it in a basket full of other clean clothes.
As soon as she and Sokka returned to the fire, Gran-Gran had pulled her aside to wash the dirty laundry. As much as Katara wanted to run to Ikari and bombard him with questions—about bending, about the Air Nomads, about everything—she couldn't say no to her grandmother. But now, finally free, her mind buzzed with all the different ways she could start a conversation with him and, hopefully, convince him to teach her how to waterbend!
Katara stood up, stretching her sore legs after kneeling for so long, and picked up the basket of clean clothes. She left the igloo, walking briskly until she found Hina, the woman in charge of drying the clothes. "Here, Hina. All nice and clean," Katara said, handing over the basket with a smile.
"Thank you, Katara," Hina replied, returning the smile. "You're a blessing to the village."
Katara nodded, already turning her head from side to side, looking for Ikari, but she couldn't find him anywhere. The excitement she had felt was quickly replaced by a twinge of worry. 'Where is he? He didn't leave, did he?' The thought made her frown. He was the first outsider she had seen in years, and the idea of him simply vanishing unsettled her.
Katara ran to Gran-Gran's tent, where the elder was mending a tunic with fingers far too nimble for her age. "Gran-Gran!" Katara called out, her voice a bit louder than she intended. "Have you seen Ikari? I wanted to talk to him about a few things."
Gran-Gran looked up, the wrinkles on her face softening into a gentle smile. "He left with Sokka a few minutes ago."
Katara's eyes widened, her concern multiplying at once, already picturing her brother doing something impulsive—like trying to interrogate Ikari with his spear. "Why did you let Sokka go off with Ikari? He's obviously going to mess everything up!"
Gran-Gran chuckled softly. "Your brother is stubborn, but he's not foolish, Katara. And Ikari's a good boy. Let them sort things out."
But Katara wasn't convinced. The image of Sokka pointing his spear at Ikari—or worse, trying to prove he was more of a warrior than him—was already burned into her mind. "No, Gran-Gran, you don't understand! Sokka is... Sokka!" Without waiting for a response, she spun on her heels and ran out of the village, the icy wind biting at her face as she passed through the frozen walls.
Outside, Katara shielded her eyes with her hand, searching for any sign of them. Her heart was racing, a storm of fear and frustration inside her. 'If Sokka ruins everything...'
Then, she saw them, and her chest sank instantly. Not too far away, near a snow-covered hill, Sokka was charging forward with his spear toward Ikaria, who, with a relaxed stance, dodged the attack with an almost supernatural agility, twisting her body to the side.
Before Katara could even think about screaming, Ikari somehow took the spear from Sokka's hand, and with a swift motion, swept Sokka's legs with the shaft, knocking him face-first into the snow.
Katara blinked twice before snapping out of it and starting to run. "Sokka!" But as she got closer, she froze when she heard them.
"And with that, it's 20 to 0," Ikari said excitedly.
"It's 25 to 0! 25! You know that perfectly well!" Sokka shouted with his mouth full of snow.
"Ooh right, hehehe."
"Argh! Next time I'm wiping that smile off your face!"
"Heheheh."
Katara watched the two in silence for a few seconds before asking what had been echoing in her head, "What... are you two doing?"
********
Liked it? Then you might enjoy my other stories too: Stranger Things: Worlds Collide and BNHA: God of Explosions.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, images or songs featured in this fic. Additionally, I do not claim ownership of any products or properties mentioned in this novel. This work is entirely fanfic.