"Haah, alright, let's go back inside and get a little more sleep then," Katara murmured, heading into her tent.
************
Sokka left the village, the cold air biting at his face as he looked for Ikari, who had told him to meet outside.
It wasn't hard to find him. Ikari was in his small boat, tied near the frozen shore. Sokka approached, his spear hanging loosely in his hand. "I'm here," he announced, his voice still a little hoarse, trying to sound more confident than he felt.
"Just give me a minute, Sokka," Ikari replied without turning around, organizing something inside the boat. "I'm just sorting out my stuff."
Sokka peeked over the side of the boat, curiosity winning over sleep, and saw a mess of items scattered on the floor: sloppily folded clothes, scrolls tied with string, and a wooden staff leaning in the corner. "Sorting out your stuff?"
"Yeah," Ikari said, lifting a scroll and examining it before placing it in a backpack. "I was just going to spend the night and head back to the sea today, but since I'll be staying a few days, I'd rather bring this to my tent. I don't trust leaving everything in the boat. One bad wave and—poof—goodbye belongings."
"Good idea… I guess," Sokka replied, unsure what to do next.
Luckily, Ikari decided for him. "While I finish here, find a spot with solid ground and start stretching."
Sokka nodded and began looking for a patch of packed snow where he could stretch, the morning chill making him shiver. 'Hope this is actually useful…'
He spent some time testing the ground until he found a flat, firm area where the snow had been compacted by the constant wind. He dropped his spear beside him, sighed dramatically, and began to stretch, awkwardly moving his arms and legs.
After a few minutes, Sokka was running out of stretches when a hand landed on his shoulder, making him scream. "Ahhhh!" He jumped forward, spinning into a fighting stance—only to find Ikari, one hand extended and the other holding the staff Sokka had seen in the boat. "H-how did you get here?!"
"Walking?" Ikari replied, tilting his head.
"Impossible! I would've heard you with all this snow!" Sokka shot back, his heart still racing.
"My footsteps are light?" Ikari shrugged. "Or maybe you were so focused on stretching that you didn't hear me coming?"
Sokka leaned to the side, seeing that there really was a trail of footprints in the snow behind Ikari. "Yeah… could be," he murmured, slightly embarrassed. 'What kind of warrior doesn't even hear someone approaching?...'
"Anyway, enough small talk," Ikari said, straightening up. "Have you finished stretching?"
"Yes, I'm ready," Sokka replied, picking up the spear from the ground and puffing out his chest.
"Great. But before we start, I want to make one thing very clear," Ikari said, walking away with his back to Sokka while skillfully spinning the staff in his hand. "Sokka, if you want to learn how to fight to protect the village, or to one day join your father in the war, you need to understand something important."
!!!
Sokka instinctively took a step back when, in the blink of an eye, the "instincts" that always stayed on alert around Ikari began to scream in desperation. Every hair on his body stood on end, and a cold unlike the icy wind of the South Pole seemed to freeze his insides.
"Compassion, mercy, honor, justice, your wishes and dreams... none of that matters on a battlefield. If you hesitate in front of the enemy, you die. If you feel sorry for the enemy, you die. If the enemy surrenders and you lower your guard, you die. You know why? Because in the heat of battle, we're reduced to our most primal instincts, where all we think about is killing or being killed," Ikari said, his voice devoid of emotion, as sharp as a blade. "There are moments when the screams, the smell of blood and death are so strong that we even forget who we are and why we're fighting. There is no heroism, no good versus evil, only two groups of strangers who only think about wiping each other out."
"You need to be ready to kill or be killed. To set your humanity aside. It's not pretty, it's not glorious, and it will change you forever." Ikari turned to Sokka at that moment. His expression was neutral, almost empty, with two eyes as black as the darkest night Sokka had ever seen. "Do you understand that? It's a path with no return."
Sokka swallowed hard, the weight of Ikari's words crushing him like an avalanche. It wasn't as if he had never thought about these things when he asked to join his father in the war, but hearing Ikari speak so bluntly unsettled him. The idea of killing another person was… terrifying, to say the least. Still, Sokka thought of the village, of Katara, of Gran-Gran, of his father and the promise he had made to himself to protect them, no matter what. "I understand…"
"Then let's begin." Ikari positioned himself so that his body was sideways to Sokka, the staff held in his back hand.
"What do you mean by 'let's begin'—" Sokka didn't finish the sentence. In the blink of an eye, Ikari was already in front of him, swinging the staff with terrifying speed. "Ah!" Sokka managed to duck just in time, feeling the air shift right above his head. "Why did you—" He tried to speak, but Ikari didn't stop, advancing again, this time aiming the staff at Sokka's spear, which he tried to block.
BAM!
The force of the impact reverberated through Sokka's arms, a sharp pain exploding in his fingers, as if the bones had been crushed. "Argh!" The spear fell into the snow, and he clutched his hands, which were burning and throbbing. "Why did you do that?!" he shouted, throwing an irritated look at Ikari, who simply rested the staff on his shoulder, calm as if nothing had happened.
"Simple. The best way to learn how to fight is by fighting," Ikari replied calmly, having lost all the terrifying air from a second ago. "Your reflexes are decent, but your hands and arms are weak, your shoulders are tense, and your feet barely move. We're going to work on that." He took two steps back. "Now pull yourself together. You would've died in about twenty different ways if I were your enemy."
Sokka swallowed hard again, not doubting that number in the slightest. 'Is this the moment where I rethink every choice that brought me here?' he thought, but at no point did giving up cross his mind. With a groan of effort, he picked up the spear, ignoring the pain in his hands, and faced Ikari. "I'm ready."
Ikari didn't respond. He simply advanced, the staff whistling toward Sokka's shoulder, which he managed to block in time. Pain pulsed through his hands, but he held on tight, refusing to let go of the spear.
Ikari's blows then continued without pause, each faster, more precise. Sokka dodged, blocked, stumbled, as Ikari's staff became a blur, targeting legs, arms, torso, forcing him to move with no time to think—only react.
A minute later, which felt more like hours, Sokka dropped to his knees, the spear planted in the snow for support, sweat pouring down his entire body despite the cold. 'I was right, Katara... this guy is terrifying,' Sokka thought, seeing from the corner of his eye that Ikari was watching him calmly, as if he hadn't made any effort at all so far. 'I hope... I survive.' He clenched his teeth and stood up.
*******
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.