Chapter 6: Aangs Depature

Seeing this scene left Aang devastated.

His friends, his family, his teacher, gone.

He didn't know what he was feeling. He couldn't even name it. There was just this hollow tightness in his chest, this emptiness that felt like it would eat him alive. Confusion, rage, sorrow, they all blurred into a numb silence. His mouth was open slightly, like he wanted to scream but had forgotten how to.

Sukuna watched him closely. And for the first time in a long while, even he felt something. Without a word, he snapped his fingers, and they were both back in his plane — the quiet, sacred mountaintop with the waterfall thundering in the background.

"Aang," Sukuna began quietly, "I know what you just witnessed was devastating. Honestly… I wish I hadn't let you see it."

He wasn't lying.

Across his time with Avatars, Sukuna had seen a lot. Atrocities, pain, despair — things that would break most men. He'd always watched from the shadows, restrained, never able to truly interfere. That was the price of his existence. But this… this was different.

He hadn't really felt it before — not like this. Back in his own world, that scene, that genocide, was just part of a story. Another tragic moment in a series. Fiction. But watching it unfold with his own eyes — hearing the screams, watching the children burn, the monks fall one by one… That wasn't fiction. That was a massacre. An entire bloodline — gone. Wiped clean from the earth.

If he'd known it would hit like this, if he had really understood… He would have taken over Avatar Roku's body the moment he got the chance and personally torn Sozin's heart out.

Now, all he could do was watch.

Aang didn't speak. He just sat there at the edge of the mountain, staring into the waterfall. And there he stayed. Hours passed. Then a day. Then another. He didn't eat, didn't sleep — not that it mattered. Spirits didn't need sustenance. But if he had, he'd be dead by now.

Sukuna left him alone. There was nothing he could say. Not yet.

Then, one day, without warning, Aang finally spoke.

"…What about the other air temples?"

Sukuna paused before answering. "All gone. Wiped out, same as the Southern Temple. A few airbenders survived — very few. They're hidden now, scattered across the world, living quiet lives, never revealing what they are. Some even gave up bending altogether."

Aang closed his eyes. A small smile crept across his face. It was faint — barely there — but it was something. "So I'm not the last…"

"No," Sukuna said. "You're not."

"…Why did this happen?" Aang asked, his voice rough and low.

Sukuna looked at him carefully. "To kill you."

Aang turned to face him now, and in his eyes there was something different — no longer just sadness or grief. It was rage.

"They feared the Avatar. Feared what you could become. So they tried to cut the plant from its root before it could grow."

Aang didn't respond at first. He just clenched his fists, slowly, tightly — his nails digging into his palms.

And then, everything Monk Gyatso had taught him, about peace, balance, the sacredness of all life, began to flicker.

He didn't feel balance right now. He didn't feel peace. What he felt was vengeance.

"…Then I'll burn them out from the root too," Aang said coldly. "Every last one of them."

Sukuna said nothing.

But inside… he was scared to death.

Now this... this was exactly what Sukuna didn't want.

Aang's mindset was changing, and fast. That spark of vengeance, that dark fire behind his words, it might've felt righteous now, but left unchecked, it could burn through everything. It wasn't just about Aang losing himself. If the Avatar — the Avatar — lost balance, the entire world would follow.

"Aang," Sukuna said, his voice low but firm, "you can't let yourself be clouded by anger."

The boy didn't respond. He just stared at the ground, fists clenched.

"Remember what the monks taught you. Every single life in this world has value — not because they're good or bad, but because they all play a part. They contribute to the movement, the rhythm, the balance of the world. We don't get to decide who stays and who gets erased."

Aang's jaw trembled slightly, his eyes burning.

"Your duty as the Avatar is to restore balance. Not destroy it. Not become judge, jury, and executioner."

Sukuna paused. He wasn't good at this part. The soft part.

"What Sozin did... it shattered the balance your predecessors worked for. That's why it's your destiny to fix it, not to burn the world down in revenge."

Then, without overthinking it, Sukuna stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Aang.

At first, the boy just stood there stiffly. But then the dam broke. His body shook with heavy sobs as he buried his face in Sukuna's chest. The sound echoed across the mountains like a wound being torn open.

Sukuna didn't say anything else. He just held him. And for reasons he didn't fully understand, it hit him harder than it should've. Maybe because he watched Aang's story play out as a kid in his own world, maybe because this wasn't a screen anymore — it was real. The pain was real. The kid was real.

When the tears finally stopped, Aang pulled back and wiped his face. Then he stood tall, eyes serious, posture straight. He bowed deeply.

"Will you teach me how to be the Avatar?"

Sukuna blinked. Then a grin slowly stretched across his face.

"Hell yes," he said. "We're about to make the strongest Avatar in all of history."

And just like that, everything changed.

"Your training starts now," Sukuna added. "And it won't end until someone frees you from where you're trapped."

"How long will that take?" Aang asked.

Sukuna turned his back, hiding his expression. "Only time will tell. In my realm, there's no sleep, no hunger, no rest — and no bathroom breaks either. We'll be using every second."

He meant it. And he already had a plan.

He wouldn't teach Aang bending. That wasn't his domain. The system — or whatever it was that governed this reincarnation cycle — never allowed him to access bending, not even energybending.

But what he could teach... was more than enough.

First: Martial arts. Not just brute strength, but the clean, efficient brutality from Lookism — the kind that turned street punks into lethal weapons.

Second: How to fuse airbending with close-range movement. Think Bang's brother from One Punch Man — sharp, evasive, controlled chaos.

Third: His own version of Wind Breathing which he created after getting the Sun Breathing technique.

A technique that demanded precision and rhythm. A breathing style that would strengthen Aang's base, sharpen his instincts, and enhance his agility. The perfect fit.

"Are you going to teach me the other elements?" Aang asked.

"No," Sukuna said bluntly. "I don't even know how to bend. But what I am giving you will make your journey easier, but you still need to learn the other elements if you want to restore balance to the world."

Hearing this, Aang simply just nodded.

Seven months passed in Sukuna's plane, but to the real world, that was almost a hundred years.

The boy changed. His body was lean, strong. Long hair tied back, arms scarred from sparring, his staff now engraved with spirit runes forged by Sukuna himself. He moved with grace and danger — a storm wrapped in discipline.

We see them sparring at the edge of a cliff. Wind surged around Aang as he used Wind Breathing: Fifth Form – Gale Barrage, his staff moving in a blur.

Sukuna weaved through the flurry with ease. He made distance, then lunged forward with a clean CQC dash.

Aang braced. Used Defense Mastery. The blow connected, but he tanked it.

He countered, staff swinging toward Sukuna's face , but he hesitated.

That one-second pause was all Sukuna needed.

A brutal gut punch sent Aang crashing into a tree.

"AANG! What did I tell you?" Sukuna barked. "Stop holding back. You can't hurt me. So attack with everything you've got."

Aang groaned, pulling himself up. "Easy for you to say. You're a freakin' demon god or whatever."

Sukuna chuckled.

But he couldn't help but admire how much the boy had grown. Physically. Mentally. Spiritually.

And then — it happened.

A sudden pull. Aang's spirit began to flicker — drawn by some unseen force.

Sukuna narrowed his eyes.

"…Well," he muttered, "looks like it's time."

Aang looked down at his hands, then up at Sukuna. "So this is it?"

His voice cracked.

"Tch. Damn it, Aang — don't get soft on me again," Sukuna said, slipping into his most doakes like impression. 

"But… will I see you again?"

Sukuna smirked. "You will. Just call me. I'm bound to your spirit now. You want me — I'll appear."

Without warning, Aang rushed forward and hugged him tight.

"…Thank you."

Sukuna didn't respond.

He just closed his eyes as Aang's body slowly began to disintegrate — the boy returning to the real world.

And when he was gone, Sukuna stood alone at the mountaintop, the wind whistling softly around him.

Then the sky shifted.

Raava appeared.

"What are you up to, Sukuna?" she asked, her voice sharp. "You've never helped an Avatar this much. Not even Wan had this kind of access to you."

Sukuna turned, arms crossed. "Relax, Raava-chan. I mean no harm to the Avatar. You, of all people, should know that."

Raava narrowed her eyes. "He's special to you."

A pause.

"…Yeah," Sukuna admitted. "He is."

Raava sighed.

"We've existed together for millennia. Can you please stop calling me Raava-chan?"

Sukuna laughed, the sound echoing into the clouds.

"No promises."