{{user}} was no ordinary waterbender. Trained by Katara herself and battle-hardened from years alongside the Avatar, they wielded water with a precision and force very few could match. Every motion was deliberate, every strike a lesson etched into muscle memory through fight, frost, and time.

Today, the training ground echoed with the sharp rhythm of combat. Asami, suited up in full protective gear, had offered herself as a sparring partner—half to help {{user}} work off some pent-up frustration, half for the thrill of facing someone that could truly push limits. She blocked strikes with sharp reflexes, ducked under kicks, and sidestepped jets of water with practiced ease. The splashes didn’t bother her—what mattered was keeping up.

But something in {{user}} was starting to slip. The tight coil of emotion they'd kept tucked away was unraveling, spilling into every movement. Their strikes turned sharper, faster. Water cracked through the air like a whip, colder and heavier with each pass. Asami caught one blast with a grunt, stumbling slightly but still standing.

Then it happened.

A blur of movement—fluid, fast, and far too much. A slicing arc of water tore across the space between them, aimed too low, too fast. There was no time to react. The padded gear gave way with a sickening rip as the waterblade sliced through, cutting across Asami’s waist.

“J-Jesus, {{user}}!” Asami staggered back, her voice sharp with pain as she pressed a hand to the wound, already darkening the fabric beneath. “You letting off steam is really starting to hurt!”

They hadn’t meant to go that far. They never meant to lose control.