Chapter Text
I still remember the first time I met him. I was fifteen, convinced a spear could stand against fire, and I was wrong. Every word he said that day stuck in my mind. Words that would follow me for years, shaping everything I would become.
***
Sokka’s POV:
The market at North Harbor was loud long before the shouting started.
Vendors called out prices over piles of dried fish and polished shells. Sailors argued over crates stacked along the harbour road. Children darted between crowded stalls with sticky hands and stolen fruit. Somewhere nearby a musician attempted to play a cheerful melody on a flute, though the music was constantly swallowed by the chaos of the crowd.
The air smelled of saltwater, spices, hot oil, and smoke from a dozen cooking fires.
Sokka stood beside a stall stacked with fishing spears, weighing one in his hand with a thoughtful frown.
“Too light,” he muttered.
Across from him, Katara rolled her eyes.
“You’ve said that about the last four.”
“That’s because the last four were also too light.”
Katara crossed her arms. “Maybe you’re just getting stronger.”
Sokka grinned. “Obviously.”
He spun the spear once, testing the balance. The motion was smooth, practiced. He had been carrying weapons since he was a kid, long before the war ended. Even now, years later, the habit hadn’t left him.
Behind them, Aang hung upside down from the edge of a wooden awning, his feet hooked over the beam as he watched the crowd with wide, fascinated eyes.
“This place is amazing,” he said. “There’s people from everywhere.”
Sokka glanced around the market.
Earth Kingdom traders haggled loudly beside Water Tribe fishermen. A pair of swamp benders argued with a spice merchant while a group of travellers in desert robes examined maps near the docks.
“Yeah,” Sokka said absently, still examining the spear. “That’s what happens when nations decide it’s easier to trade than fight.”
Katara gave him a pointed look.
“For once.”
Sokka shrugged.
“Hey, peace is great. I’m a big fan.”
Toph, who had been leaning against a nearby post, snorted.
“You say that like you’re not the one constantly looking for a fight.”
Sokka glanced at her.
“I do not constantly look for fights.”
Toph tilted her head toward the harbour.
“You literally challenged a fisherman to arm wrestle five minutes ago.”
“That guy was cheating.”
“You lost.”
“He had big hands.”
Aang laughed.
Katara sighed.
“You’re unbelievable.”
Sokka grinned, twirling the spear a few times. “Okay, okay, maybe I don’t need another weapon.”
The vendor looked relieved.
Then the mood shifted.
Not all at once, but like a ripple spreading through water.
A few voices went quiet. Someone stepped aside. A cluster of people near the main street began moving out of the way.
Sokka noticed immediately.
His head turned toward the disturbance.
A small group of soldiers walked into the market square wearing red armour trimmed in gold.
Fire Nation.
Sokka’s grip tightened around the spear. The fragile peace between the Fire Nation and the Water Tribes might have quieted the war, but it hadn’t erased what came before. Not for him. Too many stories, too many scars, too many years spent hearing the same name spoken like a storm on the horizon. Fire Nation. Even now, the sight of their colours in the middle of the market made his shoulders tense and his jaw set.
The soldiers stopped near a food stall and began talking loudly enough for half the market to hear.
“…told you,” one of them laughed. “They talk big, but when the fire starts flying, they run like everyone else.”
Another snorted.
“Of course they do. What else are they supposed to do? Throw fish at us?”
The Fire Nation had a way of turning every place they entered into their territory and most people dared not to confront them. A few nearby merchants suddenly found urgent reasons to look elsewhere, while others pretended the conversation didn’t exist at all.
Sokka did neither.
He leaned back against the stall, arms crossed.
“So that’s the strategy, huh?”
The soldiers turned.
Sokka tilted his head. “Just burn everything until nobody’s left to argue?”
Katara closed her eyes. “Sokka…”
Too late.
One of the soldiers stepped forward. “You got something to say?”
Sokka gestured lazily. “I’m just impressed. Must take a lot of skill to win fights when you can shoot fire out of your hands.”
A few merchants nearby tried to hide their smiles. The soldier’s face darkened. “That ‘fire trick’ would drop you in about three seconds, kid.”
“Three?” Sokka said. “Wow, how generous.”
Katara stepped closer to him. “Sokka, do not start anything! Do you realise the kind of trouble we’ll be in if-”
But another voice cut through the square.
Calm and sharp.
“Is there a problem here?”
The soldiers immediately straightened as a young man stepped forward from behind them.
He wore Fire Nation clothing, red and black, high-collared, and very much formal. The remnants of an old burn traced one side of his face.
His golden eyes settled on Sokka.
Sokka knew at once who it was... Zuko the son and heir of the Fire Lord.
Even before he spoke, there was something about him, something controlled and intense that made people instinctively step back.
“Just a mouthy local,” one soldier said, but Zuko didn’t look at him.
His gaze stayed on Sokka.
“You were saying something about firebending.”
Sokka shrugged. “Just wondering what you’d do without it.”
Zuko’s expression hardened slightly. “And what would you do against it?”
Sokka lifted the spear. “Well, I’d start with this.”
A few people in the market began gathering around them now, sensing a fight.
Zuko glanced at the weapon, then back to Sokka. “You think a spear makes you a match for a bender?”
“Depends on the bender.”
Aang dropped from the awning and landed beside Katara. “Oh no,” he whispered.
Katara rubbed her forehead. “This is going to end badly.”
“What should we do?” Aang asked, glancing anxiously at Katara.
Katara watched the two boys square off, her expression tight before she let out a quiet sigh.
“If those idiots are determined to fight, we let them,” she said. “Stepping in now could turn this into something bigger. We only interfere if it gets out of hand.”
“Got it.”
Zuko stepped forward.
“If you’re going to insult Fire Nation soldiers,” he said quietly, “you should at least be able to back it up.”
Sokka grinned. “Oh, I can back it up.”
Fire sparked in Zuko’s palm. The crowd immediately scattered back.
Sokka spun the spear once and shifted into a fighting stance.
“Try me.”
For a moment they simply stared at each other.
Then Zuko moved.
Fire exploded forward in a sharp burst, and Sokka barely rolled out of the way as heat blasted across the market stones, leaving scorch marks across the ground.
Several crates shattered as people shouted and scrambled out of the way. “Market fight!” someone yelled.
Sokka sprang to his feet and lunged. The spear shot toward Zuko’s chest.
Zuko twisted aside with trained precision. His hand flashed forward and a stream of fire roared across the space between them.
Sokka blocked with the spear shaft, the wood instantly scorching black. He jumped back, grinning breathlessly.
“Okay,” he admitted. “That’s a little impressive.”
Zuko huffed in annoyance before he attacked once more. Fire lashed through the air in sharp arcs.
Sokka dodged, ducked, and rolled between overturned stalls. He jabbed forward with the spear whenever he saw an opening.
Once, just once... the tip of the weapon grazed Zuko’s sleeve.
The prince jerked back in surprise, then his eyes narrowed. He launched a powerful kick and fire exploded outward.
The blast knocked Sokka off his feet and sent him skidding across the ground as the remaining crowd gasped.
Sokka groaned and pushed himself up.
Zuko tilted his head slightly. “You’re done.”
Sokka wiped blood from his lip.
“Nah.”
He grabbed the spear again, but Zuko attacked harder this time.
Flames spun around him in tight controlled bursts.
Sokka fought back with quick strikes and clever feints, but every time he got close, fire forced him back.
A blast hit the ground beside him, while another clipped his shoulder. Finally, a sharp kick from Zuko knocked the spear completely out of his hands.
It clattered across the stones as Sokka hit the ground hard.
The world spun in front of his eyes for a moment, but he refused to give up, instead he forced himself up again.
Zuko stared at him now, clearly annoyed.
“Why do you keep getting up when you know you’re going to lose?”
Sokka spat dust.
“Because I’m not done.”
A flicker of something crossed Zuko’s face, before vanishing just as quickly. He stepped forward and drove a punch of fire straight into Sokka’s chest.
The impact slammed him into the cobblestones, wind ripped from his lungs, and for the first time that fight, he stayed down, chest heaving, but his mind stubbornly refused to quit.
Zuko walked over and stopped beside him.
Sokka tried to push himself up, but before he could manage it, Zuko grabbed his collar and hauled him halfway upright.
Their faces were inches apart, Zuko’s golden eyes boring into Sokka’s blue ones like fire against ice.
“You fight well,” Zuko said.
For a moment it almost sounded like respect.
Then his expression hardened.
“But skill means nothing without bending.”
Fire flared in Zuko’s free hand. “You can swing a weapon all you want.”
His grip tightened.
“But as long as I can bend-”
His eyes burned with cold certainty and spite.
“-you will never win.”
Sokka glared at him.
Zuko leaned closer.
“If you ever wanted to even dream of defeating a bender…”
His voice dropped slightly.
“You’d have to take their bending away.”
With a sharp shove, Zuko sent Sokka sprawling onto the stone, wincing at the pain as he hit the ground hard.
The fire snapped out as quickly as it had appeared, leaving the air thick with heat and the faint scent of smoke. Zuko straightened, his golden eyes narrowing slightly at Sokka. He gave a slow, deliberate step back, chest lifted, chin high, and a smirk that was all teeth and pride.
“Remember this,” he said, voice low but cutting through the stunned quiet of the market. “You are and will always be nothing without bending.”
With that, he spun on his heel, the edge of his cloak catching the sunlight as he walked away, every movement dripping with arrogance, leaving Sokka staring after him, burning with a mixture of anger and determination.
The crowd slowly began to disperse, murmuring, some shaking their heads or muttering complaints about their soiled food and ruined stalls.
One particularly frustrated man tried to salvage his cart of cabbages, muttering angrily as a few squashed heads rolled onto the cobblestones. “Blast it! Every time it’s something... fire, wind, or whatever else! Who’s going to pay for this?”
The commotion drew a few sympathetic glances, but most people just moved on, leaving Sokka lying on the ground with dust in his hair and pride in tatters.
For a few seconds Sokka just lay there staring at the sky, until a shadow fell over him.
“You’re lucky Zuko left,” Katara scolded, crouching beside him. “You are aware that he is the son of the Fire Lord, right? That could’ve gone so much worse.”
“I’m fine,” he groaned.
“You’re not fine.”
Aang knelt beside her. “That was intense.”
Another pair of footsteps echoed against the stone. Toph stopped beside him, hands on her hips, sensing his presence with her usual confidence. A smirk tugged at her lips.
“Well,” she said.
“On the bright side, you only lost in front of like… fifty people it sounds like.”
Sokka groaned again.
Katara helped him sit up. “You shouldn’t have picked a fight with a firebender!”
“He started it,” Sokka muttered.
Aang tilted his head. “I think technically you started it.”
Toph snorted.
Sokka ignored them both. Instead, his eyes were still fixed on the street where Zuko had disappeared.
You’d have to take their bending away.
The words burned in his mind, and he clenched his fists.
“Fine,” he muttered.
Katara frowned. “What?”
Sokka slowly stood with their help. His ribs ached and his pride hurt worse, but his voice was steady.
“Then I’ll figure out how.”
Far away, at the end of the market road, Zuko paused for a moment.
He glanced back once. Not at the crowd, but at the boy who kept getting up.
Then he turned and walked away, unaware that the words he had spoken would come back to haunt him years later.