I didn't expect death to be loud.
I was walking home late, boots crunching against gravel, the night air cold enough to sting my lungs. I remember thinking—very stupidly—that the train tracks were faster than going around. Just a shortcut. I'd crossed them a dozen times before.
Then my boot got stuck.
At first, I laughed. A sharp, nervous breath, tugging my foot free. It didn't move. The metal edge had caught the sole just right, wedged tight between steel and stone.
That's when I heard it.
The horn.
Far away at first—distant, echoing, unreal. My heart slammed against my ribs as I yanked harder, panic blooming in my chest. The sound grew louder. Faster. The rails began to hum beneath my feet, vibrating like a living thing.
No, no, no—
I dropped to my knees, hands clawing at my boot, fingers numb and shaking. The horn screamed now, deafening, merciless. Light flooded my vision as the train rounded the bend, impossibly close, impossibly fast.
There was no heroic last thought.
Just terror.
Then—
Nothing.
I woke up in darkness.
Not the comforting kind. Not sleep. Not unconsciousness.
It was a vast, endless black void, stretching in every direction, silent and heavy, like the universe had exhaled and forgotten to breathe back in. I tried to move—and realized I didn't have a body. No weight. No pain. No heartbeat.
Just awareness.
"So," a voice said, amused, echoing from everywhere and nowhere at once. "That was… abrupt."
Light bloomed in front of me, coalescing into a shape. A figure sat casually in midair, legs crossed, chin resting on one hand. Their form shifted constantly—male, female, young, ancient—like reality itself couldn't decide what they were supposed to be.
A god.
Not the thunder-and-fire kind. Not the righteous or wrathful kind.
Just… bored.
"You died," they continued cheerfully. "Train accident. Very dramatic. Very final."
"I—" My voice echoed strangely, as if thought itself had learned how to speak. "Am I dead?"
"Extremely," the god said. "But don't worry. I'm in a generous mood today."
They smiled.
"I'll reincarnate you."
My thoughts raced. Fear gave way to disbelief, then to a sharp, dangerous clarity. If this was real—if I had even the smallest amount of control here—then panicking would be the worst possible move.
"I get wishes," I said slowly.
"Five," the god replied, holding up five fingers. "One of them must be used to choose the world you reincarnate into. Rules are rules. Even for me."
I didn't hesitate.
"I wish to reincarnate into the world of Avatar: The Last Airbender."
The god's eyebrows rose. "Safe choice. Elemental magic. Spirits. Clear power system. Nostalgia factor."
I nodded. "It's one of my favourite shows from my childhood. And I don't want to wake up in some eldritch nightmare world where sanity is optional."
"Fair," the god chuckled. "Wish one granted."
I took a breath I didn't need.
"My second wish," I said, "is to have the body and mind of Sasuke Uchiha."
Now that got their attention.
"Oho," the god said, grinning. "Peak human conditioning. Genius-level combat instincts. Trauma included—"
"That's fine," I interrupted. "I can handle it."
They studied me for a moment, then snapped their fingers. "Granted."
"My third wish," I continued, pulse steady despite everything, "is to have the talent of Sasuke Uchiha—but adapted so it transfers to bending."
The god laughed outright. "You're clever. Talent isn't power. It's potential."
"Exactly."
"Granted."
"My fourth wish," I said, not slowing down, "is to possess the Uzumaki bloodline."
The god tilted their head. "Vitality. Massive life force. Unnatural stamina. Longevity."
"Yes."
"Granted."
I paused.
One wish left.
"My fifth and final wish," I said quietly, "is to be reincarnated as the twin brother of Zuko."
Silence stretched between us.
Then the god smiled—wide, sharp, delighted.
"Oh," they said. "That will be interesting."
The void shattered.
Fire.
Heat slammed into me, overwhelming, suffocating. My senses crashed online all at once—pain, pressure, sound. I screamed, lungs burning as air tore its way inside me for the first time.
Crying.
My crying.
Hands lifted me, rough but careful. Voices shouted in a language I somehow understood instinctively. Firelight flickered against red-and-gold walls.
A woman screamed—anguished, exhausted—and then another cry rang out beside mine.
Twin.
I was wrapped in cloth, pressed against warmth. I felt small. Weak. But beneath it all—power coiled inside me, vast and patient, like a sleeping dragon.
As my vision blurred and darkness crept back in, one final thought burned itself into my newborn mind.
The world of Avatar is about to change.
And this time—
Zuko won't be alone.