Echoes of Departure ”Then do nothing!” Sora uttered these words calmly, his gaze fixed on the drifting clouds.
”What?!
But I am the Avatar, isn’t it my duty to maintain peace?!” Aang was completely taken aback; he had expected his friend to offer some encouraging words.
”Listen, Aang, you are a child.
What am I supposed to expect from a child?” Sora looked at him with a deadpan, questioning expression.
”If the world plunges into war, then the world must fix itself.
As for the concept of the Avatar, or your personal path—in my opinion, if you want to and possess the capability to preserve peace, then try.
But if you can’t or don’t want to, then don’t do it.” Sora did not care for the grand title of the Avatar or the ancient dogma dictating that the Avatar must maintain peace.
Sora believed that an individual should pursue peace out of their own volition, not simply because a cosmic title demanded it; to him, there was a vast difference.
If Aang were to eventually pursue peace, it shouldn’t be because he was forced by his status as the Avatar, but because he was a human being who genuinely desired harmony.
”Listen, Aang, just be yourself and don’t care about what people dictate to you just because you’re the Avatar.
If you come to believe in peace, then try to walk that path.
But if you don’t like this responsibility or don’t want to carry this burden, you aren’t obligated to do so.
You aren’t the one who chose to be the Avatar!” Aang sat silently, staring at Sora as he absorbed these heavy words.
This was the first time in his life someone had told him that he had the choice to be something other than the Avatar.
He deeply loved this newfound freedom of choice.
Throughout his life, the Monks had done nothing but pile massive orders and responsibilities onto his shoulders—burdens he could neither comprehend nor process, which only increased his anxiety and heavy thoughts.
”Thank you, Sora.
I really needed to hear those words.” ”Don’t mention it, you loser.
Though in my eyes, you’re still weak and unfit to be the Avatar.” ”Thank you, Sora!!” Several veins popped on Aang’s forehead from sheer annoyance and rage.
”Hahaha!
Don’t take it to heart, don’t take it to heart.
Anyway, I’m going to see my flying beast, I miss her.
Goodbye,” Sora said as he walked away from Aang.
Aang watched Sora’s retreating figure, completely drowned in thought over everything his friend had just shared.
The Stables of Patola Sora arrived at the specialized stables for the flying beasts.
”Inma,” his flying bison, was resting comfortably on her stomach, emitting a soft, low purring sound.
”Inma, I’m here!” The moment she heard Sora’s voice, Inma rose swiftly, eagerly moving to lick Sora and wrap him in a giant nudge.
”Haha, I love your affection, Inma.” Sora extended his arms, hugging her tightly, burying his face in her soft, white fur and stroking her head.
Inma was Sora’s closest companion.
They had been together since they were both very small, which forged an incredibly unbreakable bond between them.
Sora spent some time fetching food and water for Inma, standing quietly as he watched his flying beast happily graze on the fodder and fresh greens.
”I need to start preparing for my plan.
I won’t stay in this temple for more than a week.
I must go out, explore the world, and increase my own strength.
I’m sorry, Aang, but you’ll have to stay at the temple with Gyatso.” With his mind set, Sora went to sleep to rest for the preparations ahead.
One Week Later: The Legacy Left Behind A full week had passed.
Sora stood looking around his private room, his eyes eventually settling on his desk.
On it lay a newly bound book written entirely in his own handwriting.
”Sora’s Airbending Techniques” This was his personal manual, containing the advanced techniques he had either invented or reconstructed from the anime he remembered from his past life.
Sora had tried to write down as much as possible for the Airbenders to utilize, hoping it might save their lives when the time came.
He had recorded various mechanics—many inspired by the strategic nature of Naruto—drawing diagrams and explaining their applications.
Even if the Monks only managed to learn basic, rudimentary versions of them, it would be enough to give them a fighting chance.
Sora packed food, water, and a few basic survival weapons into his bag.
Upon stepping outside his quarters, he found Inma waiting patiently.
”Come on, my friend, let’s begin our own journey.” With a high, air-assisted leap, Sora launched himself onto his companion’s saddle.
”Yip yip!” Sora called out, jokingly mimicking Aang’s signature command.
Inma delivered a powerful launch into the sky, soaring rapidly into the atmosphere until the wind could be heard tearing around them.
Sora glanced back at his room and the Southern Air Temple as it grew smaller and smaller in his vision.
There was no hesitation in his heart; he knew that even with his massive talent, staying to defend it now meant certain death against an entire empire.
”I am a selfish person.
Despite possessing great potential, I fear death, and I fear gambling my life on the assumption that I can defend you all.
I truly hope my book of techniques helps some of you survive and stay alive.” Sora stopped looking back.
He turned his eyes forward, his gaze hardening with an unyielding determination.
He knew that if he could properly implement his advanced concepts from his past life, he would reach a terrifying level of bending that would surpass the Avatars of old.
Synchronicity At that exact same moment.
Inside Aang’s private quarters.
Aang stared at the letter he had just written, holding his packed belongings, ready to run away from the temple.
Aang hesitated for a brief second, but forced himself to move forward, climbing onto Appa’s saddle.
”Appa, yip yip.” Appa took off into the air, soaring high.
Aang looked back at the temple as it shrank into the distance, tears flooding his eyes.
”I’m sorry, my friend Sora, for not saying goodbye.
I hope you can forgive me,” Aang whispered through his tears.
To Aang, Sora and Gyatso were the absolute closest people to him in the entire temple—the only ones he deeply cared about.
Knowing he was abandoning them tore his heart apart.