The shoreline greeted me with the soft whisper of waves, the distant song of birds, and a gentle breeze carrying faint forest scents—slightly unfamiliar to a nose long used to the tang of sea salt and coal.
The first thing I did after stepping ashore was shrug off the top of my uniform and allow myself a moment to sprawl out on the clean sand.
Wonderful!
Still, I couldn't lie around forever—a good provocation doesn't arrange itself.
Right—off with the sword, set it aside; the dagger goes with it. Hm… I already feel almost naked. The couple of throwing knives tucked into my boot don't really count—those are for emergencies.
So, what did I remember about Kyoshi Island?
There was a charming little club of warrior girls who roam the island from time to time and have a habit of attacking anything that moves and doesn't belong to the village.
I don't quite recall how they ran into Aang's group in canon—most likely that pacifist hero made enough noise to draw a patrol. I won't be setting off any explosions, but a bit of noise pollution can be arranged without anything quite so drastic. Sound carries well over water, and the forest isn't all that dense anyway.
I settle onto a convenient sun-warmed boulder and pull out my flute. Why not mix business with pleasure? When else am I going to lie in the sun, play a tune, and have it all serve a purpose?
Closing my eyes, I began. A slow, slightly melancholic melody drifted out over the waves… Nice.
I got about forty minutes of peace before I heard the faint crunch of sand under someone's foot. Three… five… eight… ten people. Light steps. Moving carefully, trying not to make a sound; the splash of the surf and the flute almost masked their approach. If I hadn't been listening for it, I probably wouldn't have caught it.
Then the sound shifted—the first three suddenly broke into a dash.
I opened my eyes and, pushing off the boulder with my left hand, slipped aside. The spot where I'd been sitting was instantly occupied by three girls—seventeen to nineteen, all in war paint and dark green armor. Judging by the design, it was a mix of medium and heavy armor—but there was no telltale metallic clink. Wooden plates? I'll worry about their gear later.
For now, my right fist slammed into the nearest girl's solar plexus, forcing her to double over, eyes bulging as she struggled for breath. The others clearly hadn't expected that kind of speed and hesitated—long enough for me to take advantage. Bracing off the bent warrior's back, I lash out with both legs, sending the other two ladies from the vanguard flying.
And no, I didn't consider kicking girls to be wrong. If someone straps on armor, takes up a weapon, and attacked an honest traveler at rest, they'd better be ready for the consequences.
So—three down.
Landing lightly, I chopped the edge of my hand into the back of my "support's" neck, sending her off to the Land of Pink Ponies.
Seven left.
"Just what the hell was that for?" I snapped, pouring as much outrage into my voice as I could.
"Die, Fire Nation spy!" one of the warriors shouted and charged.
To her credit, she moved like a professional. The lack of experience was obvious—but her training surpassed most of my soldiers by a wide margin. Give them a few dirty tricks, and these girls would be worth their weight in gold. As it stood, they were a bit too duel-minded…
A war fan whistled past my ear, thrown from the back ranks.
…Huh. On second thought, maybe not so duel-minded after all. Hurling a heavy, steel-ribbed fan at a distracted opponent doesn't exactly strike me as fair play.
Ducking low, I slip under another girl's wide swing and, seizing the moment, scoop up a handful of loose sand and fling it into the next warrior's eyes. An indignant yelp—ah, she's open. I slam the heel of my palm into her forehead. One more down.
Six left. That's manageable—time to go on the offensive.
Oh? Someone tries to throw me over her hip, straight out of aikido—or some other "hand-waving" style built on turning an opponent's strength against them. Makes sense for girls who are lighter but more agile. Only… experience matters.
As she tries to flip me, my knee drives into her stomach, and I use her as a shield, letting her take several blows from her friends' war fans.
Five. I shove the "shield" back toward them. They catch her… and leave themselves wide open. Four. Three.
Oh—one tries to come in from behind. I toss the fan I took from the "shield" over my shoulder. A cry, the thud of a body hitting the ground. Yeah, throwing something like that isn't easy, but at three meters you don't need much skill—and a heavy handle meeting someone's forehead does the rest.
Two. I close the distance and drop one with a few economical strikes.
One. She's clearly rattled, scared—getting her into a chokehold and waiting for her to pass out is easy enough.
Zero.
All told, just over a minute and a half for all of them. Not bad… but it could've been better.
"Well then," I said, glancing at the unconscious bodies around me, "now let's play a little tying-up game."
(End of Chapter)
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