Chapter Text
Aang had always been regarded as good-natured, with a mischievous streak, a side of him that became more pronounced after he was declared the Avatar a few years ago. It’s a responsibility that would always rest on his shoulders, and he found various ways to cope, some more questionable than others.
Recently, he had been sneaking out of the Southern Air Temple to meet friends, primarily Toph, his earthbending teacher and confidant, visiting places where he was less likely to be recognized as the Avatar, such as Toshiharu City. It was a port city located on a small Fire Nation island, frequented by ultra-wealthy merchants and politicians from the Southern Hemisphere.
Aside from it being a strategic route, it was known as a melting pot of fine culture and cuisine. Basically, the only ones who could visit this place en route to their next destination were people who could afford it.
For Toph, it was the perfect place to show off what she called her “finessing skills.” People came, and people went. No harm done, and plenty of ‘victims’ to be had.
Here, Aang would be known as Kuzon, a famous acrobat from a Fire Nation colony. Whenever he went undercover, he tried to truly embody the persona.
He tweaked his mannerisms and adjusted the way he spoke so no one would recognize a shred of the Avatar in him. Kuzon was an alter ego he’d crafted—one that felt significantly freer and more confident than Aang, “the Avatar,” ever dared to be.
The city did not know it yet, but this duo is known for more than just tightrope dancing, and one of them is hustling people out of their money. Well, the hustling part was mostly Toph's doing, but Aang was a willing participant—avatar honor be damned.
People often underestimated what Toph could do simply because she couldn’t see, but Aang knew better.
They had just arrived in town and were now looking for the perfect place to start their antics. Toph tilted her head, listening intently to the sounds of the bustling square. Aang noticed the way she oriented herself toward the noise and smiled to herself.
She listened for the shifting footsteps and the sound of coin purses, picking out her next targets—likely merchants, politicians, or their wives, especially those she sensed had something in them. That something, Toph can’t explain no matter how many times Aang asked. Although based on his past experiences, her instincts about people were usually correct.
Aang noticed Toph leaning towards the voice of an impeccably dressed woman. She was wearing a hanbok with lush green sleeves and a deep maroon voluminous skirt. Judging by what she was wearing, she must be a wife of a nobleman from the walls of Ba Sing Se.
A perfect target.
Her eyes were narrowing towards the woman beside her, wearing much more modest clothing, her servant, from the looks of it. She flicked her intricate and expensive-looking fan towards her servant’s arm and shouted.
“You stepped on my Danghye again. Do you know how expensive this is?! I’ll make sure to take out the damages in your next salary.”
The woman with the plain hanbok bowed deeply, “Madame, please forgive me. I didn’t mean to do so. Please, madame, my mother needs—”
She huffed and flicked her fan towards her servant again, hitting her face this time.
“I don’t care. If you don’t act right, you’ll…”
She stopped in her tracks when she looked in Aang’s direction, seemingly stunned by him, and said: “I didn’t know there was going to be a show here from a sweet, beautiful young man.”
Her voice was sticky sweet, eyeing Aang from head to toe. Aang shuddered and just gave her a polite smile while there was gnawing anger inside of him. How he wished he could just airbend that fan away from her and up in her face multiple times.
Toph will get you. He thought. There will be payback later.
From that conversation alone, Toph knew this was the perfect spot to set the stage.
They often began their adventures with a simple deception—Aang would disguise himself and show off his tightrope-dancing skills to gather crowds, but she knew, actually they both knew, that not everyone watched him solely for his acrobatic mastery. The enthusiastic squeals from women, and maybe some men, made it clear he was considered eye candy, and clearly right; it was working right now.
While Toph prepared her drums, Aang set up what he needed for his performance and announced to the crowd that the show would start soon. The older noble woman from earlier was still eyeing him uncomfortably and following his every movement. Her servant was still close by, wiping her tears.
Today, Aang wore a red headband to hide the airbender tattoo on his forehead, along with burgundy Fire Nation robes and pants. His silver eyes sparkled with mischief, deliberately leaving his robe open to showcase his well-defined abdomen, barely covering his torso while carefully concealing any marks on his body that would give away his identity. His face was surprisingly sweet for someone about to cause trouble, the good kind as Toph and he would say.
Aang heard the drumbeat, a signal to start and get serious.
He lifted his foot and gracefully stepped onto the tightrope.
Raising one hand in the air, holding a fan, he stretched the other straight out to his side to balance himself. Toph beat the drum more vigorously in a rhythm traditionally used in Jultagi, and then Aang began walking skillfully along the tightrope.
He started with simple forward steps.
One.
Two.
Three.
Then, on the fourth beat, he began to perform more advanced moves. He lifted his foot, jumped gracefully into the air, and landed softly on his left leg while crouching on the rope. His other leg balanced him from behind. He repeated the motion as he moved along the tightrope, demonstrating excellent control of his body. It all looked so effortless.
As he showed more difficult stances, expressions of awe and some shrieks could be heard from the crowd, especially when his robe fluttered in the wind, and his moving muscles revealed more of his beautiful physique.
When he reached the end of the tightrope, he stood still and whipped around to the opposite direction. Then, took a deep breath and steadied himself, taking a moment to glance at the audience and enjoy the sight.
His silver eyes met the blue of someone in the crowd, a woman dressed in traditional cerulean Water Tribe robes. She wore a gentle smile, and their eyes locked. Her brown skin shimmered in the sunlight, making her eyes even more vivid, like the sea under a bright blue sky. Her long, silky brown hair fell to her shoulders. Stunned by her beauty, he felt as if time had stopped, and the only person he could see was her.
Suddenly, he became acutely aware of every movement he made, a routine he had always performed effortlessly was now slowly slipping from his mind.
He shook his head. Trying to get back to the present.
I can’t get distracted, or else I’ll never hear the end of it from Toph.
Brows furrowed, he moved into his next pose, an advanced wushu stance on a tightrope.
His usually steady legs wobbled, and beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he heard his own heartbeat in his ears, unsure of all the things his body was doing to him just by looking at her.
The air of confidence he always carried was now disappearing. His distraction was blatant to the whole audience. Each of his stances was missing Toph’s drumbeat as he tried to get more glimpses of her.
A big mistake.
The world seemed to slow down as he slipped and lost control of his body. Instinctively, he considered using his airbending skills to catch himself, but doubt entered his mind. He couldn’t risk revealing his secret here. By the time he decided, it was already too late. He accepted the fall with a sheepish grimace.
Embarrassment burned on his cheeks as he dropped from the rope, and just before he hit the ground, he heard Toph shout, "Twinkle Toes!"
___________________________________________
“I think that guy is looking at you. I bet you my dumplings,” Sokka said in his usual teasing voice, which always irritated Katara. Nothing in the world irritated her more than her brother, and lately, he had been getting on her nerves even more than usual.
“No, he’s not,” Katara replied, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.
There were probably many more girls he was looking at in the crowd.
She heard Sokka huff and make a face that said, “Yeah right.”
Each time he moved, Katara blushed slightly, muscles contracting and shadows highlighting his chiseled physique. She wondered if she was the girl he had been looking at.
As she observed him, she noticed he was wobbling slightly as he glanced in her direction during his routine. Her heart fluttered.
Is he really looking at me? Maybe I’m just imagining it.
She somewhat confirmed what was in her thoughts when he looked in her direction, slipped, and fell to the ground. Everyone saw him fall and heard a loud thud; the drums stopped. She heard someone shout, "Twinkle Toes.”
In a quick move, she stepped closer to him on the ground and asked, “Are you okay?”
He winced in reply.
It didn’t help that they were now so close together, allowing her to see more of his features. His face was flushed, with a light blush on his cheeks and sweat beading at his temples. His soft yet handsome features looked back at her.
She really didn’t want to admit it, but she found him attractive. She couldn’t help it, and she chuckled internally at the absurdity of the situation—and her thoughts.
“Do you need help standing up?” she asked.
Before he could reply, the woman—the drummer—shouted that a game was about to begin and said everyone was welcome to join, but she was already challenging a woman who looked like she was from nobility. She called out to the audience, diverting attention to herself rather than them.
He turned his attention back to her and said, “N-no, I’m good. Thanks for asking, though.”
The moment lingered for a heartbeat until she heard Sokka clear his throat, trying to get her attention.
She looked in his direction, and her brother gave her a teasing look.
I’ll get you later. She thought.
She refocused on the man in front of her. A chuckle escaped him.
“Well, that was embarrassing. I’m usually good at what I do,” he said.
Katara laughed. “Well, for the record, the first half of your performance was beautifully executed.”
She reached out to help him. Her hand hesitated for a fraction of a second before catching a glimpse of his hand.
As she did, her breath hitched.
“Your hand…It’s bleeding,” she pointed out.
“Oh,” he murmured, glancing down. “Must have hit a rock.”
“Here,”
She grasped his injured hand while the other reached for the water pouch.
“Let me.”
With the grace of a waterbender, she drew an orb of water into the air, guiding it with careful precision over his wound.
She hovered her hands over his for a few seconds more until only a faint red bruise remained.
His eyes widened, twinkling with both awe and something else, clearly unaccustomed to healing skills like hers.
“Thank you so much. By the way, I’m aa-.. Kuzon. My name’s Kuzon. And you are?”
“Katara. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Kuzon,” she said as a smile spread across her face, reaching out a hand for a proper, friendly greeting, as they did in the Southern Water Tribe.
Sokka cleared his throat again, trying to get his sister’s attention for the second time.
“Sorry, Kuzon, but my brother and I need to go. Try not to die in your next performance?”
Before she could hear his response, Sokka put his hand firmly on her shoulder and gestured towards something in the distance.
Katara stood up quickly and walked in that direction–fast.