The Rise of Kyoshi (Avatar, The Last Airbender)

“No, you fool! What I mean is that if you wanted Xu dead, you should have struck him down without notice! Blindsided him! That is the way of the predator!”

He seemed positively disgusted at the notion of an honorable duel. “Facing him on the lei tai and hoping for the best is the mentality of an herbivore braying and shaking its antlers to look good in front of the rest of the herd,” he said. “I wanted you to drink blood, not chew grass.”

Kyoshi took a step back. She bowed deeply before him, fully and formally, holding her angle at length. It wasn’t the deference of a student to a teacher, but rather the rarely used apology bow, only trotted out in the Earth Kingdom in moments of true sincerity, and she kept it going until she heard a snort of surprise from Lao Ge.

“I’m sorry, Sifu,” she said. “But I’m not doing this as a killer. I’m doing this as the Avatar. Even if the world won’t know it.”

Lao Ge sighed. “Stop that. You’re embarrassing both of us.” She straightened to see his wrinkled face arranged into an expression of scorn. It was ruined only by the genuine concern in his eyes. “Figures that the one time I find a pupil I like, she tries to be as mortal as possible,” he groused.

“Well . . . maybe Xu might suddenly pass away where he stands in the next five minutes?” Kyoshi said to any spirit or legendary creature of death nearby that might overhear and take pity on her.

“Death doesn’t work like that,” Lao Ge said. He reached up and patted her on the shoulder. “You’re on your own.”

The daofei finished stamping the platform flat. It was smaller than the one in Hujiang. There would be less room to run.

Xu hopped onto the lei tai first, swinging his arms to loosen his shoulders. He’d changed into a vest and a pair of pants cinched at the ankles. Mok and Wai stood in his corner, the elevation of the platform hiding them from the chest down.

“If anything happens, take Pengpeng and get out of here,” Kyoshi said in an ironic echo of what Rangi had once told her. “Find someone with the power to intervene before the Yellow Necks grow their numbers again.”

“What if it’s the Gravedigger?” Kirima asked.

Kyoshi paused. She wondered if her hatred would follow her into the afterlife, whether the purity of her revenge was so important that she’d turn away his help in saving lives.

She didn’t answer the question. Instead she gave Rangi one last squeeze and hopped onto the platform. She was still geared from last night’s battle. The face paint had started to flake off.

Kyoshi steadied her trembling fingers against the handles of her fans. The stagelike nature of the lei tai added the tension of a performance to the stakes of a duel. Had Rangi been this scared, elevating herself to fight? Facing Tagaka had been less nerve-wracking than this. The battle on the ice had happened too fast for her to think each step through.

You weren’t as afraid back then because Jianzhu was there, on your side. The thought held too much truth for her to swallow. She drew her weapons.

Xu grunted and sighed as he hugged one knee to his chest and then the other. “For the last time, Kyoshi,” he said. “Are you sure about this?”

You and your friendliness can go straight to the bottom of the ocean. “You should ask yourself that question,” she said. “I think your kind has a little too much certainty.”

An unnamed young daofei, rather than Mok or Wai, stood nervously in between them with his hand raised. Kyoshi spread her fans and settled into a Sixty-Forty stance that Wong had taught her, equally good for striking or bending. Xu bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, preferring not to signal his approach to earthbending.

“Ready!” the referee shouted.

Kyoshi licked a drop of sweat off her lip. It tasted like grease. She scuffed a little more weight into her front foot. Xu began to inhale through his nose.

“Begin!” the young man shouted, before diving off the platform to safety.

Kyoshi summoned her energy, starting with her connection to the ground and extending it through her weapons. She would overwhelm her opponent with a barrage of earth.

But she was too slow. And she was playing the wrong game entirely. Xu thrust his arms forward, two fingers extended from each hand, and struck her fans with a bolt of lightning.

DUES

Her spine nearly snapped itself in two. Each drop of her blood had been stung by a viper bat. Her hands felt numb and tacky. The skin had been burned off them.

There was a thump and a jolt through her body. An eternity later, she realized it was her knees hitting the ground as she collapsed. The rest of her torso followed. Her headdress went tumbling as her jaw impacted against the platform.

With the side of her face pressed against the dirt, sounds were amplified. She heard more than one person screaming. Rangi, for certain. Would the others be that saddened? It was hard to say. She caught a glimpse of them and saw only sheer bewildered horror on their faces, the inability to comprehend what kind of element she’d been struck with.

Xu walked over to the side her face was pointing, blocking her view. She had never heard of bending lightning, never been struck by it, but that was the only explanation for what she’d seen, cold-blue crackling zigzags running from his fingers into her b

ody. She tried to get to her hands and knees but collapsed, her chest flat against the ground.

“Remember,” Wong said from the distant past, a blur of hazy recollection. “It’s over when the winner says it’s over.”