ATLA: The living calamity

The sun was setting, painting the dunes in hues of amber and crimson as Wei Zhen made his way back to his tent. The air was cooling, but the energy in the camp was still vibrant. Children's laughter carried through the wind, mingling with the occasional bark of a dog and the hum of conversations around scattered fire pits.

Wei Zhen's sharp eyes immediately caught sight of a familiar trio near the edge of the camp. Arie was in the center, her voice carrying as she barked out orders to Aasha and Baey. They were gathered around a smaller kid, a boy barely six years old, who looked utterly bewildered as the three older girls fussed over him.

Arie's long black hair swayed with her exaggerated movements, her green eyes sparkling with mischief. She held up a patchwork scarf triumphantly before wrapping it around the boy's head. Aasha, with her light brown hair tied up in a loose bun, laughed as she handed over a belt that looked two sizes too big. Baey, quieter but no less amused, adjusted the oversized robe they'd thrown over the boy's small frame.

Wei Zhen paused, leaning casually against a nearby post to observe the spectacle. He could feel the corners of his mouth twitching into a smirk.

"Ah," he muttered to himself, "so that's why Goula was in such a mood earlier, probably saw this idiot on her way to the storage"

Arie's voice rose above the chatter, her tone dripping with exaggerated drama. "Behold! The prince of the desert has arrived!" She stepped back, gesturing to the boy with a flourish.

The poor kid stumbled forward, tripping slightly over the too-long robe. The other girls burst into laughter, with Arie nearly doubling over, clutching her sides.

Wei Zhen shook his head, suppressing a laugh of his own. Arie was always like this—overflowing with energy and too naive to realize the consequences of her antics. That cunning glint in her eye was deceptive; behind it was a girl who rarely thought past the moment.

His gaze lingered on the scene. Arie, with her rounder frame and unrelenting energy, stood in stark contrast to Poe's growing height and stoic demeanor. At fifteen, Poe was already six feet tall and showed no signs of stopping. Wei often felt that Poe was going to reach the clouds before long.

But Arie… she was different. Smaller, louder, and far more impulsive. She wasn't a bad kid, not really. Just a little too impulsive for her own good—and far too trusting of her ability to talk her way out of trouble.

And judging by the way she was laughing now, Wei was pretty sure she hadn't considered that Goula might already know what they were up to.

"Should I intervene?" Wei mused aloud, tapping his chin inn thought.

The boy in their makeshift costume finally broke free, bolting off with the oversized clothes flapping behind him. The trio's laughter only grew louder as they collapsed into a heap of giggles.

Wei Zhen finally pushed off the post, sauntering over with a lazy wave. "Arie, you do realize Goula passed by the storage room earlier, right?"

Arie's laughter froze mid-breath. She whipped her head toward him, her wide green eyes narrowing into a suspicious glare. "What are you talking about?"

Aasha and Baey exchanged uneasy glances.

Wei Zhen smirked, enjoying the rare moment of advantage. "Oh, nothing. Just that she might've noticed a certain group of troublemakers dressing up kids in scavenged clothes instead of doing their chores."

Arie's face went through a kaleidoscope of emotions—confusion, realization, horror. She leapt to her feet, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "You're lying!"

"Am I?" Wei Zhen replied, folding his arms. "Guess we'll find out when she catches up to you."

Aasha leaned in, whispering to Arie, "Do you think he's serious?"

Arie bit her lip, the cunning glint in her eyes warring with the underlying naivety that always betrayed her. Finally, she huffed, crossing her arms. "Fine! If Goula shows up, I'll handle it. She likes me."

Wei Zhen snorted. "Sure she does. Just don't come crying to me when you're stuck sweeping the entire camp for a week."

Arie glared at him, but the effect was ruined when Baey's stifled laughter spilled over.

"Whatever!" Arie declared, tossing her hair dramatically. "We're done here anyway." She grabbed Aasha and Baey by their arms, dragging them off toward another corner of the camp.

Wei Zhen watched them go, shaking his head. "She'll never learn," he muttered. But his smirk lingered. It was a strange thing, being surrounded by people who treated him as one of their own. For all her antics, Arie's carefree laughter and unrelenting energy were part of what made this place feel like… home.

With a sigh, Wei turned back toward his tent. Tomorrow would bring more scheming, more laughter, and maybe even more chaos. But for now, he could allow himself a moment of peace.

Inside, the air was cool and dim, the faint scent of sand and leather lingering. His makeshift table—a sturdy plank balanced on two crates—was cluttered with scraps of paper, bits of charcoal, and a few rudimentary tools. He lit a small oil lamp, its warm glow casting flickering shadows across the canvas walls.

Sitting down, Wei pulled out a sheet of paper and his ink pot, carefully dipping the tip of a worn brush. The chaos of the day faded into the background as his mind focused on his favorite subject: bending.

Ever since he had been reborn into this world, bending had fascinated him more than anything else. It wasn't just the power of it—it was the possibility. In his past life, he'd been captivated by ideas of martial arts and fantasy powers, but now he was living it. And earthbending, especially sandbending, felt like an uncut gem, raw and brimming with untapped potential.

Sandbending had been briefly showcased in the Avatar: The Last Airbender series, but Wei knew it could be so much more. His memories of Naruto provided endless inspiration, particularly Gaara. The way Gaara manipulated sand with such precision, transforming it into armor, weapons, and even defenses, had always seemed like pure fantasy. But in this world, Wei believed it was achievable.

For months, he had worked tirelessly to replicate Gaara's techniques. Yet despite his efforts, success had eluded him. Sand was too loose, too unpredictable.

But today, something had clicked. While playing Sand Warriors with the other kids, an idea had sparked. He'd hardened the sand figures by mixing in just a little water, increasing their rigidity and durability. It was a simple experiment, but it had opened a door in his mind.

"What if…" he murmured, dipping his brush into the ink. He began scribbling furiously, the words flowing faster than he could write.

What if he stopped thinking of sand as sand and started treating it like water? Sand wasn't entirely solid—it was countless tiny particles flowing together like a liquid. Its movements weren't unlike water's, at least in principle.

And waterbending… Waterbending was all about fluidity, adaptability, and control. What if he could apply those principles to sandbending? Instead of trying to force the sand into shapes, he could guide it, coax it into flowing as he desired.

Wei's brush raced across the paper, sketching out water bending movements he remembered from the show. Circular motions, gentle yet precise—perfect for redirecting the sand's natural flow. He jotted down ideas for techniques: a swirling sand vortex, tendrils of hardened sand that could strike like whips, even a sand barrier that flowed seamlessly to absorb and redirect attacks.

His excitement grew with each new thought. This wasn't just a theory anymore; it was a roadmap.

Wei leaned back, staring at the paper now covered in notes, diagrams, and half-formed ideas. A grin tugged at his lips. This was it—this was the breakthrough he'd been chasing.

"Tomorrow," he whispered to himself, "we start testing."

He set the brush down, stretching his fingers. Outside, the camp was quieting, the sounds of laughter and chatter fading into the gentle hum of the desert night. Wei extinguished the lamp, lying back on his cot.

His mind still buzzed with possibilities, but for the first time in weeks, he felt like he was on the verge of something truly great.