Chapter 1: Entering the Ring

Ursa of did not like capitol. During the long ride north from Hira'a, she had looked out of the carriage window in dismay as the green jungles and rice patties of her home transformed into scrubby, dusty desert. Her nose wrinkled in disgust as they entered the city, overcome by the smell of old fish from the port and the waste that lined the busy city streets. The noise was inescapable, even behind closed doors. Her family's new apartment was luxurious, but far too small for her parents, herself, and her two brothers.

Every morning before opening her eyes, she imagined herself back in her quiet home town. She missed her theater troop and wondered what play they would do this year, and who would play the part that normally would be reserved for her. She missed old Mrs. Tao with her herbal teas and kindly advice, and Ikem who had made her laugh since childhood with his pranks and sharp wit. She longed to walk in the mountains again, to visit the farm animals, to feel the cool tropical rain on her skin.

It was the people in the city who bothered her the most. Her rural accent was instantly noticeable by everyone she spoke to, though Ursa had never thought of herself as having an accent. Her father's swift promotion had only recently brought her family into wealth. They had not had time to buy fine silks and learn the manners of the upper class. The neighbors snickered at her simple cotton robes, cheep jewelry, and lack of book learning. So far her attempts to make friends had been unsuccessful.

"I know this is difficult," her father told her. "I'm homesick too. But I'm doing important work for Fire Lord Azulon, for the benefit of the entire Fire Nation. I have no doubt, Ursa, that you also will accomplish great things in this city."

"I haven't made any friends. I don't know any one important. I didn't even get in to the Royal Academy for Girls," she said. "How can I possibly get a foothold in this place?"

Father put his hand on Ursa's shoulder. He handed her the satchel she carried with her when she went into town. It was filled with books and parchment and notes. "You'll do what you've always done, my love, you will teach yourself. You taught yourself how to fire bend, how to act on stage, how to write, how to sew and garden and dance. If anyone can make it in this city, it's you."

She took a deep breath and nodded. There was a library within walking distance of their apartment, a luxury her home town didn't have. She would get up in the morning and read everything there was on history and law and mathematics. There were the students from the local college who met at the pubs and tea shops to talk politics and art. She would join them and listen in and ask them questions, whether they invited her or not. If the people in this city did not give her a place, she would carve one out for herself.

As summer turned into fall, Ursa dedicated herself to her studies. She would get up in the morning to go to the library. But her family could see a change had come over her face, a subtle sadness and loneliness that never seemed to go away. While her studies were her one ticket to a better life, they also were an excuse to close herself off from the new community.

On a sunny autumn afternoon, her brother Bo stopped her as she was heading out the door of their apartment.

"Change of plans," Bo said. "Go change into your exercise clothes."

She set down her books and wrinkled her eyebrows at him.

"It will be fun," Bo said. "There's a fire bending club that meets by Sozin's statue once a week. Kids go there to spar and practice with each other."

"How did you hear about it?" Ursa said.

"Jinjie who lives across the street, he invited me."

"Did he invite you or did you invite yourself?"

Bo wasn't always the most socially aware person. But that seemed to work toward his advantage in the new city. If he couldn't tell people were scoffing at him, it didn't bring him any pain. But he narrowed his eyes at the question. "I fished it out of him."

Ursa sighed. "I don't have time, Bo."

He took hold of her hand. "I'm worried about you, Ursa," he said. "You need to get out, make some friends."

"I've tried. No one here is interested."

"But that shouldn't stop you from trying," he said. He sighed. "Just come. Just for an hour. Then you can go home, and you don't ever have to go back. Just try it."

The thought of meeting people in her exercise clothes was somewhat appealing for Ursa. If she and everyone around her were not wearing their best robes, she wouldn't stick out for wearing cotton instead of silk. The exercise clothes would be a temporary equalizer.

"Okay," she said. "I'll go. Just to try it."

Ursa and Bo made their way to the town square as afternoon faded to evening. The gathering of young athletes by the statue was noticeable from a distance. The siblings set their bags and water canteens in a pile with the other fire benders' belongings.

Young fire benders stretched and chatted. Ursa only recognized a couple of them. She felt eyes targeting her as she walked through the courtyard. The young, Fire Nation nobility could smell outsider blood from miles away. No body said hello to them or spoke to them.

"Do you see Jinjie anywhere?" Ursa said.

"Not yet," Bo said. He stood on his toes to see above the heads around them. Bo was short. A famine had struck their home town when he was little, and had stunted his growth. His very height marked him as being different from the nobles around him who had grown up in abundance and luxury. "There he is!" Bo waved.

Jinjie pretended not to see them. Bo waved harder and called out to the neighbor, but Ursa put her hand on his arm to quiet him. She had adapted faster to the manners of the court than he did, and she knew better to attract attention to herself and her family.

But thankfully the awkwardness was stopped before it could develop further. The club leader hopped onto a bench and ordered them to quiet down. The first spar was about to start. "Who drew the first card?" he called out to the gathering.

"Drawing cards? Did we miss the drawing?" Bo whispered to Ursa.

"No, they were just beginning to pass the hat as we arrived," Ursa said. "They just didn't pass it to us."

"Oh," Bo said. "That's weird."

"No it isn't," Ursa said.

"I have it! I have card number one." A young man, just a few years older than Ursa, stepped forward, holding up a slip of paper with number one printed on its front.

"Well of course, you did," said Jinjie with a snort.

"Just a coincidence, I promise you," the young man said. "I drew the first card. I get first match, and first choice of sparing partner." He moved into the ring and stretched, anxious to get started.

Ursa got a good look at him. His black hair was tied back neatly and tightly. His face was cocky. He was the only one who had taken off his shirt, maybe to keep cool during the exercise, but more likely to show everyone his body. He was built like an oak tree, and he probably put a great deal of time and effort into that appearance.

Ursa hated him. With one look, she knew exactly what sort of person he was. He was proud and superficial. He valued what other people thought of him, and he wanted them to think he was intimidating. Ursa had met a lot of people like that here in the capitol city, and it was people like that who made her want to close herself off in the library, pining for home.

The young man with the first card rolled his head to loosen the muscles in his neck, and he looked for a sparing partner, a victim. "I feel like doing a bit of a warm up, for my first match," he said. "I'll save the tough matches for later. "Skinny bitch with the sun tan. The one who looks like she just drank a whole bottle of spoiled milk."

Eyes turned onto Ursa, once again.

Ursa felt her knees weaken. She wanted to sink into the earth and stay there.

Bo thought the insults were funny, and he actually laughed. She was going to kill him. But first she was going to kill this cocky son of a whore who had challenged her.

She took a deep breath and stood up straight. "Okay," she said. "We can spar if you want. I'll make sure to go easy on you."

A few chuckles came from the crowd. The cocky young man also chuckled, but he didn't think it was very funny.

"Usual rules apply," the club leader said. "Fight ends when someone's knocked from their feet. Hands and feet only, no fire. No strikes on the face, neck, stomach or genitals. I want everyone walking home in one piece."

"You might need to explain the rules again for the new girl, I don't think she understands our upper-class accent," the cocky young man said.

"Don't worry," Ursa said. "I won't hurt him."

They stood face to face. He was a head taller than her and half again her weight. He had a stupid smirk on his face, as his eyes wandered up and down her body. This was going to be fun.

He bowed, and so did she. They took their first stance, and waited to see who would strike first. Ursa did not wait long.

Her sparing partner jumped forward. His fist flung past Ursa's shoulder as she sidestepped to avoid it. He turned instantly and tried a kick. But again she was faster. She leaped right over his flying foot and planted a blow right in the center of his chest.

He grunted. It was no light tap she had delivered. His face curled up in frustration and he struck again, but she caught his fist in her hand and pushed it aside.

"What are you doing with your feet?" he said. "Your footwork is all over the place. You're dancing around like a jack-rabbit-deer."

"That's what you're supposed to do. I was taught in the Black Island style," Ursa said. "Keep moving, keep them guessing."

She kicked, he blocked. She kicked again with her other foot and caught him in the knee. He growled as the sting reverberated from his knee cap and up his spine.

"Black Island style. That was invented by a woman you know. Heh! Good for housewives and peasant maidens, but this is the Fire Nation Capitol."

"You know your fire bending history, I see," Ursa said.

"Maybe I could coach you after the fight is over. If you're going to fight with men, you should know how to fight like a man."

She blocked another punch. He grabbed her arm but she twisted free.

"I don't want to fight like a man," she said.

"You think you could defend yourself against attacking water benders prancing around like that?"

"I don't think you understand how Black Island style works." She landed another blow on his shoulder, hard enough to make him stagger. "You see, when men fight, they use brute strength, they use all their weight and they hit as hard as they can."

"The one who hits hardest usually wins," the young man said.

"Unless you miss, and then you have used up all of your energy. But when women fight" she said, "we don't rely on strength or even speed. We rely on our heads."

"Your heads?" He snorted. "Are you going to calculate your victory with an abacus and some scrap paper?"

Ursa grabbed the young man's arm. As fast as lightning she twisted it behind him and held it there. "You see, with your wits and your knowledge, you can find your opponents weakness. For you that's your left side, which you aren't guarding very well. And with that, you can take down a much larger, stronger opponent." From behind, she gave his left arm a strong twist. The twist was not strong enough to move him on her own, but because of the pain it caused, he moved himself. He yelped, and bent backwards hoping to relieve the pressure on his elbow. And with one more light tap, she knocked him to the ground.

The young man stayed there for a second. He looked up at her. "How... how did you...?"

"By fighting like a peasant maiden," she said. She leaned over him and gave him a smug smile. "Black Island Style." She looked up. "I think he's okay," she said to the club leader. "I told you I wouldn't hurt him."

She left the ring smiling. The eyes around her watched her still, but now with a little more respect.