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The afternoon sun is growing dim, shadows lengthening around the training arena. You and Toph are training alone, getting back to it after a couple days’ rest upon returning from the dragon poacher mission. Once again, she’s coaching you with metalbending. Despite your impressive feat with the metal cocoon during the mission, you still had some trouble getting the metal to move immediately.
“Stance wider,” Toph criticises, nudging the inside of one of your ankles with her foot.
“Stop trying to muscle it,” she scolds. “You’re treating it like it’s a stubborn boulder. Steel isn’t a rock. It’s refined. It’s focused. You need to find the impurities. The little bits of earth crying out for someone to notice them.”
You wipe the sweat from your brow. “I’m trying. I just don’t quite feel that space you’re talking about.”
You’re feeling slightly discouraged. Toph can tell.
She walks over to you. “That’s because your stance is wrong. You’re braced for a landslide, not a conversation.”
“ . . . What?”
She moves behind you. You can feel the heat radiating off her, the scent of her soap mixed with dust wafting over you. Then, she reaches around you, her strong hands gripping your forearms, guiding your arms up slightly. Her chest is pressed against your back, and you can feel the steady beat of her heart.
“Relax your shoulders,” she whispers in your ear. Your face immediately feels warm.
“Close your eyes,” she murmurs. “Stop looking with your head. Feel the vibration of the metal through me.”
She shifts her weight, guiding your body along with her, like a dance. Her hands slide down to cover yours, squeezing them slightly, forming them into a “hook,” as if guiding you to grab on to invisible threads.
“Do you feel that?” she asks, her voice dropping to a gravelly, intimate low. “That tiny, jagged pulse right in the center? That’s the earth hiding inside the iron. It’s waiting for you.”
Despite how flustered you’re feeling, you do feel the change in how the metal feels in front of you. Less solid, more like liquid.
“I feel it,” you breathe, feeling a glimmer of excitement.
“Good,” Toph says. “Now, don’t just push it. Demand it. Move with me.”
With a sharp, synchronised motion, Toph guides your hands in a crushing gesture. The steel plate in front of you groans, the sound of shrieking metal echoing through the arena as the plate crumples like a piece of parchment.
“We did it!” you exclaim, marvelling at where the now crushed plate lies.
“Nope,” smirks Toph, still standing right behind you. “That was all you. I just helped you find it. You weren’t trusting it.”
“The metal?”
“You.”
You glance back towards her, her face inches from yours. A smile plays on your lips. “This feels familiar . . .“
Toph scoffs, planting a quick kiss on your jawline before straightening up. “Stay focused. Once you get used to feeling that call within the metal, it gets easier every time. You won’t have to be so strict with your stance then.”
You help clear the area before you both grab water from the barrel near the sidelines. A spigot at the bottom releases cool water into your cups. Toph takes a long swig before casually asking, “Are you busy tomorrow night?”
“No,” you reply, eyeing her curiously.
“You are now,” she says, grinning.
“Did you just hijack my evening?”
“Yep! No need to dress fancy,” she adds, waving her hand dismissively.
You can feel yourself blushing. As usual, Toph is not one for grand gestures, or polished, heartfelt proposals, but you like it that way. It feels so much more casual and easy . . . it feels real.
“I’ll get you at nine,” she says, finishing her cup.
“Bit late, isn’t it?” you ask. It’s not a complaint. Your curiosity is piqued.
That crooked grin again. Spirits, it makes your stomach do a flip.
“It’s necessary.” She doesn’t elaborate. “I’ll meet you then. I have some things I need to prep for some incoming students.”
Before she turns to leave, her hand cups the side of your face, guiding you into a soft kiss.
“Hey . . .,” she mutters, “Your heartbeat’s cute when you’re flustered.”
You huff, playfully shoving her arm away.
One last, smug smirk, and she walks off towards her office. You watch her go, admiring her confident stride, your face burning.
You trip slightly over an uneven cobblestone as you blindly walk through a maze of dark alleyways. Toph’s hand grasps yours as she leads you, momentarily pausing to ensure you don’t fall, pulling you into her shoulder so you don’t stumble forward. She had insisted it was best to walk under the cover of darkness. Easy for her to say.
“Is where we’re going illegal or something?” you ask, only half joking.
“No. It’s just . . . unregulated,” she replies. You can hear the mischief in her voice.
“Damn, I didn’t wear my running shoes, in case we get raided.”
She snorts, giving your hand a small squeeze.
Although you’ve lived in Yu Dao for years, this dark side is unfamiliar. It doesn’t feel dangerous. It feels mysterious and exciting.
Suddenly, Toph stops short. You’re facing a large, metal door set into what appears to be a nondescript warehouse. Toph takes out a small stone she had stored in her pocket. A quick flick of her wrist sends the stone banging against the door. You notice that it seems to play a specific tune with every hand movement she makes.
There’s the sound of a large bolt being slid across the door. It opens, revealing a surprisingly loud cacophony that had been insulated by what you assume are the thick walls of the place. A stairway leads even deeper underground, where all the light and noise are emanating from.
You descend the stairs into what looks like a hidden cavern turned into a private arena. It isn't flashy, like the professional, televised Pro-Bending tournaments. This is old-school: just a circle of compacted earth and a few dozen spectators who know how to keep a secret.
“The Blind Bandit returns!” booms an inebriated voice near the entrance.
“Can it, Gopher!” Toph shouts back, pointing to the man menacingly, although she's grinning.
The man laughs raucously, lifting his tankard in cheers to her.
She leads you through the small crowd, her grip still firm on your hand. You arrive at an empty table close to the ring. You have a sneaking suspicion that, by unspoken rule, this was reserved for her. Someone had already set up a bottle of fire whiskey and two bowls of spicy noodles.
She sits you down so you’re facing the arena more fully, clearly not minding having her back to it. “Dig in!” she smiles, handing you a pair of chopsticks.
As you eat, an announcement booms throughout the cavern, introducing the first two fighters. Someone called The Red Baron, the other, The Rogue Rooster. Cheers echo across the arena.
“I thought you hated crowds?” you inquire, leaning close so she can better hear you.
“I hate large, bustling crowds. These guys aren’t too bad. Everyone has a respect for the matches. They always seem to cheer at just the right times. Besides,” she reaches out her hands to grasp yours, “I want you to feel what I feel.”
As the match went on, Toph kept her feet flat on the ground. Every time one of the benders hit the floor, it sent shockwaves through the ground, travelling to your table, up your chair legs, through your clasped hands, and into your very bones. There was a reason this table was so close to the action.
“Do you feel that?” Toph asks excitedly, leaning in towards your ear. “The one called The Red Baron, he’s too heavy on his left side. He’s going to fall in three, two – “
CRASH!
You feel the vibration up to your jaw. The excitement in the air is palpable and intoxicating. It’s the most peaceful chaos you have ever experienced.
Occasionally, as the matches go on, Toph narrates little things she’s feeling and noticing. Although you’re facing the arena, you haven’t glanced towards it once. You focus on Toph’s face, enraptured by her narration, smitten with her excitement, and willing yourself to see the matches the way she experiences them.
You can sense the great intimacy in her sharing how she views the world. Someone who usually acts like she has no disability.
In the lull between matches, you chat and laugh, imbibing in the fire whiskey, the noodles long gone. As the last match is ending, Toph’s thumbs trace small circles on the backs of your hands.
“You know,” she says, her voice uncharacteristically soft, “most people see the world in colours and shapes. But to me, it’s all rhythm. It’s a song. And you . . .,” she gives your hands a slight squeeze. “Your rhythm is becoming my favourite part of the track.”
The cool, night air feels nice against your flushed face, hot from fire whiskey, a good time, and great company. You both continue to chat and laugh as you walk to your apartment. When you reach the entrance to your building, you turn to Toph, smiling. “That was a really fun time. Thank you for taking me. It was nice . . . seeing your world.”
“Yeah, no problem,” she replies, a hint of shyness sneaking into her tone. She clears her throat, trying to hide the shyness with her usual bravado. “It was nothing. Just thought you could use a peek at some real fun in this city.”
Perhaps it’s the fire whiskey making you bold, but before you can hesitate, you grab both sides of the collar of her shirt with your hands, pulling her into a kiss. Toph’s eyes widen in surprise, but she quickly recovers, moving her hands to your waist.
The kiss tastes of spices and evening air. She backs you up until you hit the stone wall of your building, her body pressing into yours. One of her hands migrates from your waist to the back of your neck, her fingers curling into your hair. She breaks the kiss for a second, her breath coming in shallow, jagged hitches.
“I can feel your heart,” she whispers, her breath hot against your neck. “It’s pounding so hard, I can feel it through the soles of my feet. It’s . . . chaotic. I like it.”
The kiss deepens. Her hand at your waist slides just beneath the hem of your shirt. Her fingers are warm, a stark contrast to the cold stone at your back. It’s a blur of shared breath and low groans.
Toph never does anything “soft.” She kisses you with a hungry, possessive edge, her teeth occasionally catching your lower lip in a way that makes your head spin. Every time you make a noise – a soft gasp, or a quiet moan – she leans into it, her senses registering the way your muscles hum with pleasure.
You both stop to catch your breath, foreheads resting on each other.
“This night ended better than I could have hoped,” she breathed. Her eyes were closed, a small, triumphant smirk playing on her face.
You laugh softly, nudging her nose with yours, your hands now resting on her shoulders. “Who’d have thought The Great Toph Beifong could court a girl so thoughtfully?”
“Yeah, well, don’t expect flowers or anything tomorrow. I’m still a tough guy, you know.”
“Oh, but of course! I wouldn’t dare.”
She plants a light kiss on your forehead before breaking away, allowing you to finally enter your building. As she strides off, you can hear her whistling a soft tune that seems to follow the rhythm of your heart.