Chapter Text
The Piltover Health Society’s Compendium of Bending Afflictions
The victims of Bender’s Psychosis, commonly known as the “Spirit-Touched,” are plagued by hallucinations of spirits.
This condition has been documented in non-benders, though most cases involve those with irregular or handicapped bending.
In. Out.
The basement of the Last Drop smelled of wood varnish and beer. Even here, in her siblings’ tiny bathroom, the homey aura of the pub permeated each slow breath Powder took. Passing in through her nose and whistling out through rounded lips, the air whispered of familiarity. Of safety.
“Are you ready, Pow?”
Directly across from Powder’s seat on the toilet-lid, Vi perched on an overturned bucket. Thick swathes of rust smattered its surface like lichen, and the metal emitted a pained squeak every time Vi knocked her knees gently against Powder’s. As her thumbnail carved shallow circles into a box of matches, Vi shot her sister an encouraging smile, her top lip quirking unevenly where it was marred by a small scar.
A second rusting bucket was half-full of chalky, gray water. Mylo swore that the strange water would kill them all someday, but Vander had reassured them that the cloudy consistency was merely a biproduct of minerals carried through the Undercity’s ancient pipes.
Despite the warm air, a chill crawled up Powder’s back. It felt like the scuttle of an ice-cold centipede – she was tempted to smooth a hand between her shoulders to make sure the clammy prickle was truly just nerves. In the end, she resolved to keep her fingers curled stiffly in the fabric of her trousers, all the while glaring daggers at the water bucket.
I won't set the room on fire, she reassured herself, her gaze sliding to the matchbox. Vi told me I could do this – I’ll prove her right!
Powder nodded.
Vi removed a single match from the box. “We’re gonna try three,” she stated, her words resonating in the small, wood-paneled room.
Three matches. Three tries.
Powder’s fingers loosened from her trousers to tap anxious patterns against her thighs.
Three tries would be enough to get at least one decent result, right? It ought to be. By her age, most firebenders only needed one try.
Vi brought the tip of the match to the rough side of its box, holding it there for a long moment. "Are you sure you’re ready?” Vi asked. “We don’t have to do this now, if it’s too soon after… last time.”
Two sets of eyes flicked to a sooty stain on the ceiling.
Powder had to believe that things would go better this time. She’d show her sister – show her whole family – that she was capable. That she was strong.
“I’m ready,” Powder announced. “Do it.”
Vi struck the match.
With a hissing SHHHRIK, a diminutive, orange light danced to life. Rippling before settling into a teardrop shape, the flame swayed with the current of breaths passing between the sisters. Slowly, steadily, the newborn flame ate its way down the sliver of wood, working toward Vi’s fingers.
It ate, burned, breathed…
In. Out.
“It’s all in your breath,” Vi hummed as Powder tried to sync her breathing with the flame. “All in your breath, just like Mom used to say.”
Powder couldn't remember what their mother used to say, but Vi knew each line from the woman’s life by heart – or, at least, it seemed like she did in times like this, with a match flickering between them and a firebender’s wisdom flowing off the earthbender’s tongue.
“Your breath has energy. Make the flame use your energy instead of burning the match.”
While searching for the energy in her breath, Powder noticed that her fingers had resumed tapping against her leg. Her right foot was twitching and her gut felt as if it were fizzing with bubbles and sparks.
All that energy needs to be in my breath!
Trying to keep still, Powder breathed deeply. The flame flickered – had it been jostled by her breath, or was it reacting to her? Powder leaned forward, and the fizzing sensation in her gut grew as she breathed in through her nose, out through her mouth...
The flame flared brighter.
Powder’s breath hitched.
Then, the flame was gone, vanishing as if it’d been snuffed by a strong wind. It hadn’t even used half the match.
A cold wave of disappointment sluiced through Powder. Her shoulders slumped as Vi cast the dead match aside, digging out a second.
“Dead fire is better than wild fire.” Vi bumped Powder's knee bracingly. “And you must’ve make a connection with the flame for it to go out. You're getting there.”
Powder frowned, staring down at the dead match.
This was a basic exercise, one all young firebenders mastered before moving to riskier pyrotechnics. The premise was simple: Sync your breathing to the flame, bring it under your control, and sustain it for at least five minutes. Typically, a firebender developed enough control by the age of seven or eight that, as long as they weren’t distracted, they could reach that five-minute mark.
Jinx was eleven, and she couldn’t control a flame for more than a few seconds.
That fizzing sensation in her stomach was bubbling into something messy and nauseating. She wanted to curl up and lie down…
... but Vi looked so eager as she brandished the second match. “Ready for round two?”
Ignoring her queasy gut, Powder squared her shoulders. She was a firebender! This was her element, her strength! “I’m ready!”
Eyes flicking between Powder’s, Vi slid the second match against the side of the box…
SHHHRIK – FWOOM!
“Oh, great. Our room smells like smoke. Again.”
“Shut it, Mylo,” Vi grumbled tiredly.
Powder didn’t meet either of her adoptive brothers’ eyes as she slunk behind Vi towards their bunks. Crawling onto the lower bunk, Powder sat with her back pressed to the wall. She reached for a tattered, cardboard box at the corner of her mattress, and the metal parts within clinked as she pulled it close. Beginning to root through the box, Powder willed one of her unfinished gadgets to distract her from her latest failure.
Unfortunately, the scent of smoke made it difficult for Powder to divert her mind. From past experience, Powder knew that the odor their freshly charred ceiling, courtesy of the short-lived hellfire fountain she’d summoned from the second match’s spark, would linger for the rest of the week. Even to a firebender, the constant stench sucked.
“Could’ve stolen anything,” Mylo mused, lounging on the room's couch. One of his hands was thrown over the back while the other held a shiny piece of machinery to the light. “Whole box of loot that lost Topsider was carrying around. Claggor grabbed a sack of coins, I grabbed some tech, and Vi…” He snorted, rolling his eyes. “Vi grabbed his matches.”
“We each grabbed something of value.” Vi pulled a roll of fresh wraps out from the top bunk. Leaning against the frame of the bed, Vi unraveled the soot-stained bandages from her arm, still soggy from their hasty dip in the emergency water bucket. Even in the room’s dim light, Powder could tell that Vi’s calloused fingers looked pinker than usual.
Vi continued, “Powder’s training is more valuable than the cash you’ll make when you sell whatever that thing is.”
“The guy had cufflinks!” Mylo flailed his pilfered item through the air. “Metal cufflinks! Might’ve been silver! You could’ve ripped one off, ran with it, and sold it for enough cash to buy fifty boxes of matches!”
“Do you think anyone down here gives a damn about cufflinks? Topside jewelry won’t sell in the Underground, and I’m not about to try playing nice with some Piltie pawn shop.”
“That’s a weak excuse.” Mylo curled his lip. “There are people down here who’ll buy anything.”
“Sorry, Vi, but I’m with Mylo on this one.” Claggor shrugged ruefully, leaning against the couch. “Benzo would’ve taken it off your hands – maybe not for the full price it’s worth, but for more than the cost of a box of matches.”
Mylo gestured gratefully toward Claggor. “Thank you! Besides, if Powder needs matches that badly, she can steal them herself.”
"Vi said we needed a lookout," Powder muttered, still rustling aimlessly through her box.
"That's right.” Vi pulled the end of her wraps tight. “And Powder did great. Nobody saw us steal from the lost rich guy.”
“Nobody would’ve cared if they’d seen us,” Mylo grumbled. “Do you think we’re the only ones who pickpocketed the Topsider? I’ll bet every trencher who saw him, except Powder, lifted something off him.”
Powder grimaced, scraping her nails against a gadget.
“But I guess we should be thankful you kept her on the sidelines,” Mylo groused on, running his free hand through his hair. “Her jinxed bending probably would’ve set the poor sucker on fire.”
“MYLO!”
Vi’s shout was harsh. A flinch crossed Mylo’s face, but he tried to play it off, following up with a quick eye roll. “All right, all right! I’ll shut up!”
“Take a walk,” Vi ordered. “Go to Benzo’s. See if you can sell that thing. Claggor, go with him, and make sure he doesn’t get into trouble.”
Heaving a sigh, Mylo rose from the couch. As he stomped out of the room, Mylo muttered under his breath about how he wouldn’t be spending his earnings on any damn matches.
He didn't look her way, but Powder stuck her tongue out at him nonetheless. When she felt better, she'd find something prickly to slip under his bedsheets
Claggor was slower to leave, hesitating as he glanced back at Powder and Vi. “You two want to come with us?”
“We’re tired,” Vi replied sharply. Then, after a long, weary sigh, she added, “Just… keep Mylo away for a while, okay?”
A look of understanding passed over Claggor’s face. “Sure. See you later.”
Powder kept her gaze low as Claggor left the room. Finally giving up on her hunt for distraction, Powder shoved her box away, pulled up her knees, and buried her nose deep into her folded arms.
Out of the corner of her eye, Powder saw Vi move. Rather than climbing onto her own bunk, Vi ducked onto Powder’s. The mattress released a shrill creeeaaak as Vi settled to a seat, leaning against the wall beside her.
A long minute of silence passed between them. Powder didn’t want to meet Vi’s gaze, and Vi didn’t ask her to. As the seconds passed, some of the turbulence in Powder’s gut dissipated, leaving her feeling less unwell, but still exhausted.
Eventually, Vi murmured, “Mylo will be in a better mood when he gets back. He’s just bummed out about the smoke.”
The smoke’s bitter tang was still heavy in the air. Despite the fresh wrappings on Vi’s arms and hands, her heat-pink fingertips weren’t quite hidden. “I’m sorry,” Powder mumbled. “About the smoke. And your hand.”
“What, this?” Vi held her fingers up and wriggled them, letting a grin curve across her scarred lip. “This is nothing; barely seared the first layer of skin.” Her elbow tapped Powder’s side. “I’m tough as rocks, remember?”
Tough as rocks... That was something their dad used to say, wasn’t it? Vi was tough as rocks; Powder was bright like fire.
If only she could control how bright her fire was instead of turning matchsticks into flamethrowers. Then she would be someone her family could rely on, could include, and no one would call her bending jinxed.
Every time she tried to bend – every single time! – something went wrong. The energy inside her came in flashes instead of streams, resulting in bending that lacked any semblance of control. Her fire had always been playful, but after that day on the bridge…
After those strange things that no one else could see had led her and Vi to their parents...
Don't think about those things. Don't think about them.
What she’d seen that day, and the things she swore she kept seeing out of the corners of her eyes since then, weren’t real. She knew that. She knew she shouldn’t acknowledge them, shouldn’t even think about them, because everyone said that dwelling on spirits could ruin a person’s bending…
But who was she kidding? She’d never been good at firebending, even before the bridge. What was left to ruin?
“Pow.”
Vi’s hand was in Powder's hair, fingers carding gently through the unevenly-cut strands.
Powder slumped into Vi’s side. Her sister was steady and warm. Powder ought to have been the warm one, warm like fire, yet she was always the first of her ragtag family to shiver when the air grew cold.
“Everything’s going to be fine,” Vi murmured, pulling Powder snug against her side. “Tomorrow, we’re gonna break out more matches and try again. Outside this time, near the river, where there’s plenty of water if things get hot.”
Powder winced. Out in the open, there’d be more people to watch her fail.
“Things will get better. You’ll get better. You’ve got fire inside of you, and someday, people are going to respect it. I don’t care what Mylo says; I’ll steal as many matches as I have to so you can get the hang of this.”
"Get the hang of setting our room on fire?" Powder muttered.
Vi chuckled. “You’re gonna be an amazing firebender; we just need to be patient. Until then…” Vi reached up. A few of Powder’s gadgets were hanging from a string tied to the underside of the top bunk. They clinked at the tap of Vi’s finger. “You’ve got these.”
Hmph. “They don't work.”
“They will. Be patient with yourself.”
Powder was tired of being patient. All she had to show for her patience were used matches, Vi’s singed fingers, and the smell of smoke.
Vi says everything will get better, she told herself. It has to. It HAS to!
But when?
“VI! POWDER!”
Vi raised her head at the sound of pounding footsteps, then smiled when a familiar face scrambled down the basement stairs. “Little Man! What's up?”
Ekko – or, as Vi dubbed him, "Little Man" – all but fell down the stairs, leaping over several at a time. At one point, he stumbled, and only a swiftly-flung hand on the banister stopped him from plummeting in earnest.
Powder watched him curiously. Usually, Ekko helped tend Benzo's shop at this time of day, fixing antiques or working the counter. What had lured him out?
With a spark of excitement, Powder wondered if he'd found a part she'd asked him to look for. Ekko was as much of a gearhead as her, and with his access to Benzo's wares, he could be relied on to find anything she needed. Her last few attempts at crafting explosives had been lackluster, but she was sure that the right sized gaskets would make her latest prototype work!
To Powder's intense disappointment, two more pairs of footsteps thundered down the stairs. Both of her brother’s face’s popped into the room.
They looked ecstatic.
“Vi, you won’t believe it!” Mylo’s eyes shone as he continued, “You know that guy we pickpocketed earlier? He stopped by Benzo’s shop, and he’s loaded!” He elbowed Ekko’s side. “Tell her what you told us!”
“It’s true!” Ekko chimed in excitedly, his gaze flitting between Vi and Powder. “I charged him three times what the junk he picked up was worth, and he didn’t bat an eye! Paid in gold!”
Powder’s eyes widened. What was this rich guy doing in the Undercity?
“He told me to let him know if the shop got any more of the parts he was looking for." Ekko pulled a scrap of paper from his pocket. “He gave me his address! His place is probably bursting with gold, and he told me where to find it!”
“Seriously!?” Vi's eyes widened incredulously. “He just gave you his address? You didn’t even have to ask?”
“A total dope, right?” Mylo chipped in.
“I’ve got to get back before Benzo notices I’m gone,” Ekko said, scratching the back of his head as he glanced sheepishly towards the room's exit, “But I wanted to give you the address first, in case... y’know... you wanted to use it. You're always talking about finding a big job to do, and I thought this might help.”
Behind Mylo and Ekko, Claggor had a hesitantly hopeful look on his face. “It would be risky, but… Don’t you think we should check the place out? We could run up there, grab a few things, and be gone before the rich guy makes it back.”
“It’d be just like the jobs Vander did when he was our age!” Mylo was all but jumping with excitement. “C’mon, Vi, we’re never gonna get a more perfect opportunity than this!”
He needn’t have tried to convince her. Powder could already see the thrill of the job shining in her sister’s eyes. Grinning, Vi shoved herself off Powder’s bed. “Yeah, let’s do it!”
Powder gripped her knees tighter, her stomach giving an unpleasant throb as Vi joined her brothers near the door. She knew they wouldn’t invite her on this trip – she’d been left out of outings far more tame than a journey to Piltover.
This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, way too good for her siblings to miss out on, but she selfishly wished that Vi would stay. She was starting to feel cold again, and Vi’s steadying presence was the only thing that made it better.
Vi might stay if Powder asked her to. But her brothers would be pissed, and Mylo wouldn’t let it go for weeks.
Sparing a glance Powder’s way, Claggor suggested, “Hey, why don’t you hang out at Benzo’s shop with Ekko until we’re back?”
She knew that Claggor was trying to be nice, but Powder couldn’t help hearing the implications of his words.
He doesn’t want me here alone. He doesn’t think I can look after myself.
Mylo didn’t ease her thoughts when he chipped in, “Just make sure you don’t set Benzo’s shop on fire.”
“Mylo,” Vi warned in a dangerous voice.
"Powder's never set the shop on fire," Ekko defended her.
“Just saying,” Mylo muttered, sniffing. “It wouldn’t be the first thing she’s set on fire today…”
“She’s not going to set Benzo’s shop on fire,” Vi stated, “because she’s not going to Benzo’s.” Vi’s fierce eyes met Powder’s. “She’s coming with us!”
Powder’s gut swooped.
What!?
“What!?” Mylo echoed. “You want to bring Powder? On a job this big?”
Claggor meekly admitted, “I’m not sure she’s ready for this, Vi.”
“She is.” Vi waved her over. “Powder, c’mon!”
All eyes in the room were on her. Powder slid off her bed. She grabbed a small pouch with one of her bombs – hopefully this one works – and tied it to her waist.
Powder's legs felt numb and far away as she stepped forward. She was certain the only thing keeping her moving was the commanding look in her sister’s eyes.
Vi smiled as Powder reached her side. “You are ready for this,” Vi told her, placing a hand on Powder’s shoulder. “They’ll see.”
Powder bit her lip, trying to take her sister's words to heart. If Vi thought she was ready, she had to be, right?
She had to be.