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Hand-to-hand combat was the fucking worst, and Zuko grinned knowing that was exactly what Katara was thinking. In retrospect, she knew it was so much easier to channel your energy into something like water, graceful, flowing, gentle yet powerful; than to use just the power available to you. In this case, the power available to her was her small, not particularly muscular limbs. Her thin fingers were not built to fight, just to dance with the water.
This is probably why Zuko looked like he was having such a good time. In the early twilight next to the small campfire they had set up, his body was one with the flickering of the shadows, tall and imposing as they wavered on the trunks of the tall evergreens. Fire was force. Fire was brutal and unforgiving and a promise; the eternal promise of power. There was a reason they were originally so opposed to each other- she went to sleep every night remembering that crystal cave, both of them bathed in the soft blue glow of the walls. As if it was just them, sitting at the bottom of a still ocean. The world was so vast, and they clung to each other the way snow stuck to her clothes. Despite everything that followed, she didn't think they ever let go. But she felt different now, Zuko had redeemed himself in every way that was available to him, and then every way that wasn't. She watched as he constantly sought out ways to make her life better. The last few years following the end of his father’s reign he spent rebuilding his country and fixing their friendship, both with a gentle hand the late Fire Lord Ozai was never capable of. The way he looked at her like he did after she told him about her mother, she saw it in his gaze every day.
“Katara, you okay?” She snapped out of whatever haze she was in, looking back at Zuko who relaxed his stance. They were practicing turning kicks, but all she could do was think about the way he looked at her. She let out a sharp breath in an attempt to snap herself out of whatever place her mind was at. This wasn't productive for either of them, she tried to push off her embarrassment, getting into stance.
“Sorry, I’m ready,” she stated firmly. He nodded with a small and forgiving smile and got into a defense stance.
“He never used to smile like that.” She kicked, turning her foot out as she raised her other leg up and swung forward towards his arms. She knew it was a bad one before she even followed through on the motion.
“Try again, this time use your right arm to propel you forward.” He gave her a small nod of encouragement and she tried again. This time her foot met its target, but still pretty sloppy. She was so used to being loose and open. This art of fighting was all tight and close, she wasn't familiar with being so close to herself. The arms guarding her chest missed the mindless dance of limbs and water, she felt more like a rock in a stream. He got out of stance and took a few steps toward her, positioning himself behind her. She tried not to react as he put one hand on her arm and another on her waist. His hands were similar to hers, fire and water both came from long, thin fingers. But his hands had seen battle, fire drew his calloused fingers and palms, yet he held her as if she was glass.
“Keep your shoulders down and your left arm close,” He pulled her arm closer in towards the two of them, blocking her chest area. “If you’re using your other arm to add force, be ready to bring it up-” he guided her arm up, “out,” as he pushed her arm out with his right hand, she could feel his breath on her ear, “and back towards you to protect yourself.” When he brought her arm back towards her chest, he paused. They lingered there for a moment. Stood with his hand on her waist and his other arm wrapped around her torso. She could have burst into Summer rain if he held her a second longer, but he let go, the heat of his hand on her arm and waist dissipated. She didn’t know if she wanted that feeling to stay. He took a few steps back and got into position.
“Try again.” His eyes never left hers. She nodded and gave him a small smile, and he looked as if he was trying not to smile back as she pushed all of her energy into her right side and kicked into his arms. The impact seemed to make a slight echo, the sound of their connection bounced off the trees and was lost in the ambiance of the grasshoppers and wind. But it was there, she still felt it in her core, whatever this feeling was.
Katara tried again. And she tried again. It may have been an hour of her kicking, Zuko giving feedback and her adjusting a little bit, hoping her muscles would remember this the way she could remember the water. Eventually when the night caught up to them, with shallow breath and tired muscles, the two sat against the fallen log that laid next to the fire as they ate. After eating in silence for a while, Katara paused. “How…” she trailed off. She didn’t understand how to phrase the question in a way that a fire bender would understand. He looked over at her with curious intent, and she almost could bear his gaze, she still felt the outline of his hand on her waist.
“How do you remember? With water, it’s how I grew up, how I lived, spoke, fought, loved-” she caught herself, realizing how far this question went. “Fire is all you know, it’s what you were taught, it’s the society you lived in, it shows in how you live and interact with people,” she looked over at him to see if he understood. He nodded, understanding and pushing her to continue. “When it is just fighting, with no elements involved, how do you remember something that hasn't been a part of you your whole life?” She looked over at him, but not in his eyes. She would do anything to avoid his eyes in that moment, an attempt to ignore the feeling of him studying her. But he nodded, and looked into the endless forest that surrounded them. She could see him thinking over the question, the way one evaluates a battle strategy. He nodded to himself and scooted over closer to her. She tried to ignore her heart, now banging on the front of her chest like a trapped animal.
“Knowing and feeling are different, you and I know that more than everyone,” she nodded, understanding but not knowing where he would lead his advice. “When you know something, it’s shallow. There might be effort, but it will always only be half of what you are capable of until you can feel it. It’s the same way you feel when you look back on memories, or think about someone you love or hate.” Zuko stopped and looked over at her, but wouldn’t look at her in the eyes. She knew the void expression, the eyes of someone who held the weight of death in their hands and should have let go of it long ago. The way a child in war only remembers the pain they caused because it was all they knew. That child was Zuko, and she tried to restrain herself, knowing he still blames himself for the death of her mother. “When you remember fighting, it isn’t like learning at school. Remember the kicks and the punches like they are a feeling, one that constantly fills you and follows you. It can be bad or good, but it’s a feeling that you can call on whenever, and it’ll be there for you.” She looked at him, taking in his words and their underlying emotions as he looked down at the forest floor, mindlessly weaving the grass between his fingers.
“I understand,” she said, almost but not quite a whisper, barely heard over the lull of the wind. She sat on his left side, towards his scar. To him, she knew it was painful. Katara saw where he drew his fight and his flame from. But she saw it differently. To her, his scar was a promise to be better, a promise to both of them she remembered every day. She leaned forward, tracing the bottom of the scar around his cheek. Almost to her surprise, she felt as he leaned into her touch, and she regretted the day she asked him to remove it, a reminder of how much they had grown since they were kids, stuck in a war that wasn't theirs to fight.
“Thank you,” she said, leaning forward and holding the other side of his face as she lightly kissed the area next to his eye. The smell of smoke and pine lingered around him, and she took as much of it in as she could. Her lips lingered, and the heat of his skin on her lips made her almost giddy. He smiled, his hand finding hers and giving it a small squeeze. The midnight sky glimmered through the trees, and Katara gazed up. The feeling of this, of now, forever imprinted in her.