Since I started practicing Chi control, I've imagined at least a dozen ways to use it.
One idea came to me while walking through my mental palace: a character who could alter the texture of paper and fabric with their own energy, making it look like skin.
That would be incredibly useful when we start the journey with Aang. So far, I've managed to change the texture to something almost like skin, but adding details like wrinkles, scars, and reliefs is still tricky for me.
Fortunately, using Chi doesn't consume my Waterbending energy, or else my trump cards would be useless by now.
But my thoughts are interrupted when Tiga lands two quick hits on Katara's shoulders, making her step back annoyed.
—And you've lost.
Katara quickly turns her head upon hearing her grandmother's voice.
—Gran Gran, what are you doing here? —she asks nervously, then opens her eyes wide in surprise—. Sokka, stop imitating Gran Gran's voice!
Her brother just lets out a mocking laugh as he approaches her.
—No, it's fun to see you nervous.
Katara snorts, annoyed at her older brother's amusement.
—Well, training is over now. You fought for ten minutes straight and Tiga won —I say with a cheerful smile.
—It's not fair! She's older and has trained longer.
Katara retorts angrily, making Tiga feel bad for having won.
—Excuses won't save you, Katara. Maybe she has more experience, but if you had analyzed your opponent, you would have won about twenty moves ago —I say calmly as I approach Tiga—. Analyzing your opponent is what guarantees victory, not how much longer they have trained than you. And thanks for coming, Tiga.
—Thanks to you for training me.
—Of course, I wouldn't withhold knowledge from anyone who came willingly —I say with a smile.
—You forced me to come! —Katara protests, puffing out her cheeks.
—Shut up, girl —I reply quickly, making Tiga laugh.
—I'll go back with the women to finish your new clothes.
—Alright, please rest properly —I say as I watch the woman walk away with a smile.
—Are you going to teach me Waterbending now?
—Indeed, my dear sister.
At those words, Katara makes a strange face of disgust.
—I'm trying to be nice to you, little brat —I say while shaking my head at her.
—Okay, okay, I'm sorry.
—Good. Now, show me what you can do —I say, expecting to see her poor Waterbending skills.
Katara focuses. She takes a deep breath, raises her arms, and the water in front of her barely rises a few centimeters before falling with a ridiculous splash.
I look at her without changing my expression.
—Is that all?
She frowns.
—I'm trying!
—Yeah, and failing with so much style must be tiring —I say as I walk toward her and cross my arms—. You're going too fast, and your elbows are stiff like frozen wood. Try again, but more smoothly.
She tries again. This time the water follows her, but the movement is clumsy, shaky—like a drunken snake.
—Better… but it still looks like you're fighting the water instead of moving with it.
Katara snorts.
—I don't know what you expect. I don't have a master!
—Of course you do —I say, pointing at myself with my thumb—. You have the genius who only appears once every million years.
She lets out a snort hiding a barely contained laugh.
—Idiot!
—Come on. Again. This time don't raise your arms so high. Control doesn't come from strength, but from balance.
I stand behind her and adjust her posture, fixing her center of gravity and lowering her shoulders a bit.
—Breathe. It's not an attack. It's like rocking something fragile, like a leaf on still water.
I watch her try again. Her movements are still stiff, but no longer chaotic. The water responds hesitantly but responds. It makes a small twist before losing its shape.
—There. That's the start. Again.
For the next hour, I have her repeat the same movement over and over. I correct her elbows, her hips, the angle of her hands. Each time, the water reacts a little better. Nothing smooth. Nothing strong. But at least it's no longer a puddle shaken by a desperate fish.
When she tries to push a current and it slips through her fingers, I stop her.
—Don't push. You don't control a mass of water like it's mud. You have to move with it. You're leading a dance, not pushing a sled.
She nods, more serious. But her brows are furrowed, and her movements start to become rougher, not smoother.
—Stop —I say calmly.
Katara looks at me with tight lips.
—What now?
—Before continuing, you need to understand what you're doing. It's not just about moving water like that, you have to flow with it, in harmony.
She crosses her arms, waiting.
I sit on a rock, scoop some water with my hands, and let it flow between my fingers.
—Water doesn't attack. It doesn't resist. It adapts. It surrounds. It yields… but it never stops. You can hit it, you can pass through it, but it always comes back together. It's soft, yes, but it's also the force that wears down stone over time.
I let the last drop fall to the ground and look up at her.
—The path is like this.
—Your strength isn't in how much water you lift. It's in how you make it move with you. If you fight it, you'll lose. You have to let it flow without resistance. It's part of you. It's like trying to eat with your hand fully extended.
Katara lowers her gaze. She's silent for a few seconds. Then she tries the movement again… and fails.
The water breaks into a shapeless puddle, and her face tightens.
—It's not coming out right! —she suddenly shouts, hitting the water with both hands—. I'm doing it like you said, but it doesn't work! It looks easy when you do it!
She breathes deeply, fists clenched, and turns away to hide her watery eyes.
I stand up slowly.
—Katara…
—No! I don't want to hear another comparison with food, wind, or fish! —she complains with a trembling voice—. I just want it to work.
I approach her and place a hand on her shoulder. At first, she doesn't move.
—Then let it work. Stop pressuring yourself. Let your emotions flow. Don't get stuck in the frustration of not getting it.
Katara breathes deeply. Closes her eyes. The water rises just a few centimeters. Holds shape for a few seconds… then falls again.
—That was better —I say.
—It was horrible.
—Yes, but horribly stylish. Let's try the next attempt.
She looks at me sideways. Still frustrated. But at least she no longer looks ready to scream.
From there, I teach her the most basic movements: postures, slow circles, wide steps, deep breathing. The body has to be relaxed but firm. The flow starts from the center and extends to the fingers. She repeats them as best she can.
After repeating the same exercises for almost two hours, I cross my arms.
—You know what? That's enough. Now show me everything in sequence.
She nods. Positions herself, breathes, and executes the movements in the sequence I taught her. Slow. Clumsy. But continuous. The water moves. Not like an elegant wave, but like a current trying to take shape.
It's basic. Rough. Full of mistakes.
But it's real.
I smile. I stand up. I copy each movement she makes, reproducing it exactly. When the water responds smoothly and spins around me in a clean circle, Katara's eyes open in amazement.
—You knew how to do it all this time!
—Of course. But I needed to see if you could learn first. Only then would I know my explanations worked —I shrug—. Besides, I'm not going to waste energy foolishly. I only have a small reserve. Unlike you, who can use it without limits.
Katara watches me silently, unsure whether to feel offended or admiring. Then she gives me a slight nudge.
—Thanks.
—You're welcome, little brat.
—Grrr! —she throws water at me, and I run away laughing.
That's how our first training session ended.
At this rate, she'll only be a little better than at the start of the original series. Without a real master, she won't be able to show her true potential.
But well, today will be a full moon. If my hypothesis is correct, at full moon I'll be able to use as much Waterbending as I want, without it depleting so much.
The perfect moment to build the new Water Tribe.
—Sokka.
My thoughts were interrupted by a voice full of wisdom.
—Gran Gran, what's going on? —I asked curiously.