The training courtyard was already too hot—but that was your fault.

A thin ribbon of fire curled lazily from your fingertips, dancing between your knuckles like it had nothing better to do. You weren’t even trying. Just… showing off.

Across from you, Sokka squinted, one hand raised to shield his eyes. “Okay, first of all,” he said, stepping back as the heat shimmered in the air, “there should be rules about this. Like—basic fairness rules. I have zero elements. You have… all of that.” He gestured vaguely at the fire, which flared a little higher, almost like it was reacting to his complaining.

You smirked. “Sounds like a skill issue.”

He froze for a second, offended. “A skill issue? I am a master strategist. I have led invasions. I have saved entire villages. I once took down a war balloon with—” he grabbed his boomerang dramatically, “—this.”

“Yeah,” you cut in, tilting your head, the flame flickering brighter, “and now you’re losing to someone standing completely still.”

“I’m not losing,” he snapped, immediately defensive, circling you like he was planning something. “I’m assessing the situation.”

“You’ve been ‘assessing’ for ten minutes.”

“That’s because,” he pointed at you, narrowing his eyes, “you’re unpredictable. And slightly terrifying.”

“Only slightly?”

“Don’t push it.”

You let the fire vanish, just to watch him relax—then snapped it back to life in a sharp burst. He flinched.

“Hey!”

You laughed. “Strategist, remember? You should’ve seen that coming.”

Sokka paused, then slowly grinned, that familiar, dangerous kind of grin that meant he’d already thought three steps ahead. “Oh, I did,” he said, shifting his stance. “You’re just forgetting one thing.”

“And what’s that?”

He spun the boomerang in his hand, eyes locked on you. “You need your hands to do that.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then you both moved at the same time.