Heloo! I'm back with a chapter! Enjoy!


Why do they look so happy?

It was all she could think as she stared ahead. She, her brother, and her mother were huddled under a tall tree, Azula herself was nestled into the crook of Ursa's arm, Zuko on her other side. The empress held a storybook full of ancient Fire Nation myths, and was reading in a soft, kind voice. The two young siblings looked full of mirthful happiness, Zuko occasionally throwing in short gasps and acting out scenes with large gestures, and Azula rolling her eyes albeit playfully, a grin of her own replacing what might have been a sneer at one time.

As the moments increased, her familiarity with the scene in front of her throbbed, quivering as if beginning to loosen from her hold. "I love you, Azula," Ursa's golden eyes creased as she caressed Young Azula's head, the words soft and ringing with a note of heartbreaking sadness.

White noise began to overtake her auditory perception, making it nearly unfeasible to hear the next words that came out of Ursa's lips as her gaze stared directly at the real Azula, a tearful smile on her beautiful face.

"I always have."


Gilded eyes flit open, a dry and difficult function, as if she had been asleep for a few centuries. She was lying on her back on some form of solid black concrete, though vaguely grimy from specks of dirt and mud, in which she had the feeling she wanted to retch and get up as fast as she could-if she didn't feel so incapable of movement.

The air was misty and smothering, like it had just rained. Her eyes adjusted slightly to her surroundings, and she stared up into a grey sky without any hint of blue, wispy clouds streaming through the empyrean canvas. A few rain droplets fell onto her forehead, and she reached up to wipe them away irritably. Her molten eyes latched on to her hand, a small, peachy appendage that seemed entirely unnatural, but in a way she couldn't decipher exactly.

She knew for a fact she was not supposed to be stuck in such a miserable body. Her awareness grew further as she propped herself up with thorough struggle, settling herself back on the stone wall behind her, one of the two that encompassed her in a long, narrow hall, with large garbage cans along the sides and random pieces of metal and plastic dirtying the ground.

She felt so cold...and soggy. Her nose curled with disgust, head tilted down to discern the thin white shirt and pants she was wearing, wet from top to bottom, and plastering unpleasantly to her skin.

Where...in the world...was she?

Irksome noises reverberated from the opening of the walls, as people, (of a sort; she'd spotted at least two individuals with oddly shaped heads and blue skin or other eccentric features: purple hair, (oh the monstrosity), or tentacles (Agni help her)), bustled by and large tank-like vehicles shot through the streets. A flicker of unconscious interest ignited within her.

She didn't know where in Agni she was, but it was very alien and vaguely thrilling. As she continued her path down the leering towers, gradually, glimpses of memories returned to her mind, or more fittingly, images. Of a dazzling woman and a scarred boy.

They felt very familiar.

Right, they belonged to a glorious empire; the Fire Nation. She remembered an efficient militia and stunning palaces made of precious minerals and gold, fine silk and velvet all at her disposal. She recollected the homes of intelligent and well-known scholars whom taught ;her; in her childhood, the pavilion she and...Zuko, that felt right, played upon as children. Right. She had been royal.

But then...death. Yes, that she could recall. She had died...and those Spirits had done something to her. She stared down at her small figure, trembling slightly.

How could that even be possible? She was no Avatar! Was this rebirth? Resurrection? Princess Azula, daughter of Ozai, had been given a new life...as a child? The fact seemed entirely questionable. How could she, a cruel girl like her, be given another life? The girl set her head back against the wall, temples throbbing with an ache.

Despite all the things that should have sent her to the afterlife...she was alive.


Azula walked along a concrete jungle, sticking to the multitude of alleyways that littered the streets. This empire was rich in gargantuan buildings, reaching the tips of the clouds and reflecting glass streaming jagged shards of light down on the dark roads.

She wondered where their leader was, considering the mightiness of this territory. Surely there was a powerful figure behind all of this technology and advancement. Glowing images flit across large pulsing boards, colors and faces she'd never seen spreading pictures in her head. This world had so much to give. She would gladly take whatever it offered her.

She always did, of course.


Feet nearly numb, scratched up from walking on the rough backstreets, Azula licked her lips, curling her toes as she retreated to another quiet corridor. Weariness settled in her like dead weight, causing her to slump down for a short moment.

Despite all her capabilities, she was stuck in a child's body, who possibly had a cold by now, even with the fact that her clothes had dried somewhat from the time she had walked through the city. Now, if she could produce her fire, it would have been no problem whatsoever.

The idea had passed through her mind previously, as she walked behind a vendor selling a variety of delectable meals, stove open as they cooked what appeared to be seafood. She didn't want to draw any attention, though, due to how little she knew about this world as of present. She thought it better to stay hidden.

So, Azula sank back against the brick wall, formed the two fingered hand cue she'd mastered during her childhood, and attempted to summon her flames.

Inhale. Exhale.

The magnificent, azure fire she conquered in her past life...did not respond. The strength to call upon her inferno, that had been so simple to do before, was now so challenging to conjure that Azula had run out of breath trying to initiate any sort of flicker. She snarled out a furious sigh, brow furrowing, and gathered up her nerves, infusing all and any of her physical power, (which wasn't much, because of this body), to grate out even a spark of her fire.

Just as a tongue of orange flame started to breathe into existence, she heard a commotion from the main road. Adults, dressed in rather hideous tones of vibrant cyan, jade, and gold tread out of their respective vehicles, their presence being what created the uproar in the first place. Azula stared from behind one of the large tin disposal buckets she was practicing by, mind immediately running through possibilities.

These people seemed to be important, as the civilians gazed up at the group of newcomers with a sort of awe infused admiration and respect. "There, the heroes...here!...knew...count on them!"

Heroes?

What were those? Azula tilted her head in quiet contemplation. Disinterest rose within her. Perhaps he referred to the kind of people Zuko and his friends were. Saviors to those who need rescuing. The idea didn't seem far off. Although she was more annoyed with the fact that they had interrupted her precious attention on inducing her fire!

The nerve of those ingrates-it made her want to kill someone.

She stood, intending to leave the area, which was growing increasingly loud and frustrating as the moments passed and more people continued to gather. As she was about to leave her area, looking for another niche to pause by, she heard something that made her ears twitch.

"Missing child...looking...return her to...parents."

What? Were they looking for her?

That was why they were here? The idea seemed incredulous, even to her own ears. She'd been cautious to stay away from any main roads in trepidation that someone might find a small girl walking alone and in thin clothes odd, and call Child Services, or something akin to such, since this world obviously seemed to be inhabited by sapient beings to some extent.

She supposed her efforts had been futile as someone had likely caught sight of her and dialed whatever law-enforcing system this world had; in this case, Heroes.

Azula leapt to her feet, lacking the usual dexterity she possessed prior to her resuscitation. She could think of nothing worse than coming to the custody of a group of prodding, inflated peasants with their puffed chests and horrendous capes. Sprinting down the path of the following alley, Azula started away from the costumed adults, pace steady as she turned another corner. Before she could examine this corridor to see if there were any notable places to conceal herself, she heard a cluster of heavy footsteps her way, voices speaking in a familiar language conversing discreetly among themselves as they searched.

Letting out a breath with her tongue to the roof of her mouth, a contemptuous sound as it was, Azula searched for another route to take. The Heroes were approaching from the path behind her, and she could faintly hear another group of her assailants coming from the left.

She took a chance, taking a sharp right and catching sight of another alleyway, one that fortunately, or unfortunately, led to one of the main roads. She took on a burst of speed, towards the streams of people flowing down the paths of their everyday lives.

She was close, so close to the crowd. Hopefully, the Heroes would cede their search for the "missing child", or at least take a rest long enough for her to figure out a way to get away from this territory.

Before she could observe her options further, her tiny figure collided with a tall body, one that uttered a small noise of surprise as she crashed into them.

"Careful," said the body, vaguely male, though much softer and pleasant than what she was generally familiar with. He looked to be in his late twenties to early thirties, wearing a medical mask over his face, with one hand clutching another full face mask that had slits for the eyes and nose. Long, gunmetal hair fell choppily down his back, a portion of it tied into a messy loop. Lustrous argent eyes stared down at her, pale and glittering.

Despite the clement tone in his voice, he gripped slightly harder on her shoulders when she tried to slip past him.

"Let me go!" Azula writhed in his grasp, shooting a sneer up at him. Oh, how the tables had turned.

The steps were steadily growing louder, and she squirmed, fingers digging into the coarse black coat he was wearing in her attempt at clawing his flesh out.

"Wanna get out of here?" said the man asked, tone remaining lenient, though a hint of meaning basked underneath his words, almost allowing her to believe he understood the predicament she was in.

She bit her tongue, blinking at him in solemn scrutiny, eyes narrowed into cat-like slits. For all her time analyzing and reading people, those who were unreserved falsifiers and those who were genuinely eager to help were easily distinguishable to her. This young man seemed to fall into the latter of the two categories.

Nonetheless, staying with one lone man would be easier to run away from if needed than an abundance of annoyingly trained law enforcers named Heroes, who would be watching whatever move she made, until they could put her in foster care or give her to another family or orphanage in the worst case scenario.

That was a fate she was most certainly not interested in acquiring, and so she planned with every effort she made to prevent it. With her mouth closed firmly, she nodded.

Let's see what you have to give, investment.


She was a bit pleased that the man; who'd introduced himself on the ride to his residence as "Makoto Miyazaki," had a rather clean and crisp home.

Along with the fact that she'd lived in a magnificent palace in her past life, she couldn't imagine living in an unkempt or dirty living space. Despite this "apartment" being much smaller than what she was used to, it had an aspect of cleanliness that she approved of.

That—along with a large library full of possibly all the books she'd need to gather information on this world. Dark birch shelves housed an abundance of books with rich blue and green binds, as well as alphabetically arranged by the author. Makoto had introduced the city called Musutafu as being part of another country called Japan. Per her request, he elaborated on the moving vehicles, tall skyscrapers, as well as the animals.

It felt rather strange that this planet did not have hybrids of their organisms, such as ostrich horses or a platypus bear. Additionally, she found that the language she spoke back in her world was coincidentally similar to Japan's-hence why she could both speak and understand the people around her.

Her brain absorbed all the information she could about language, technology, and the advancements that they'd made that weren't even plausible before. It both made her want to stay inside all day and read as much as she could—and overwhelmed her at the same time. As the sun finally set, Makoto managed to convince her to clean herself up-after she got past the absolute vexation of being swayed by a peasant.

It was downgrading and utterly humiliating.

Though she did suppose it was nice to get the grime out of her hair and rid herself of those despicable clothes. Azula soaked in the bubbling tub, closing her eyes as she sank herself further into the water. It almost felt familiar, treating herself to a nice wash, steam erupting from the top of the bath as she cleared her mind of all her worries...

Droplets stuck to her eyelashes as she dragged a hand over her face. Over the past few hours, reality seemed to settle further within her conscious, despite how she thought she accepted it before. She didn't try hard to remember anyone-her friends (all of whom were traitors), her family, (why would she, really?), her people, (they weren't really her's in the first place, were they?)

In fact, perhaps she was supposed to let go of all her connections. It was quite exhausting to have to instinctively compare everything to what she had before.

She could let her past life slip her mind, live as a new girl with an adopted father, (just a thought), and try and find new people in her life.

Wouldn't that be lovely?

Make some new cherished and special memories. Find someone to care for. What a loving and laughable sentiment.

As much as she might later regret reminiscing all the less than pretty points she'd experienced and done, with great surprise to her own self, she realized...she didn't want to forget.


a/n: Chapter One, completed! So, I'm definitely going to explain a bit more about Makoto hopefully in the next chapter; where he'll likely, (but not certainly) have a section of the chapter in his perspective. There'll be more interaction and that jazz between our queen and my dear OC as well. It'll happen...I'm just trying to plan out how. Y'know? I know, he's a little bit mysterious and all, and he did have a scene with his point of view in this chapter...until I wrote it out. I couldn't decide what was good or not and it triggered me so bad, because nothing was coming out the way I wanted it to. I debated who Azula's caretaker would be for a looong time, too. There was Ryuko Tatsuma-the Dragon Hero, Midnight, Aizawa...just a lot of back and forth. Alas, we end up with Miyazaki, who is, let me just preface, not a hero. I feel as though the meeting paragraph was sorta self-explanatory as it was, but...I think I just made it super obvious. It's fine, haha.

Till next time!

Chloe


MIYAZAKI 宮崎

Meaning 宮 (miya) meaning "temple, shrine, palace" and 崎 (saki) meaning "cape, peninsula".