Chapter Text
Mako's POV
Water.
Cold. Relentless. Suffocating.
It surges around me, dragging me under as my lungs burn. The blurred shimmer of city lights wavers above, fractured by the river’s surface. Sirens wail somewhere in the distance—too late, as always. Spirits, it’s a miracle I survived this long working with these idiots, Lin always made it look so easy.
Sigh. So this is how it ends.
After everything—years of fighting, sacrificing, dedicating my life to Republic City—this is it. No dramatic final stand. No last words. Just the quiet, crushing pull of the river.
How fitting.
I was always the responsible one. The one who stayed out of the spotlight. Chief of Police by forty. Drowning in paperwork and politics. No family. No real home. Just the job. Work I eventually came to hate.
And in the end, Republic City will carry on.
With or without me.
Just like my friends and Family.
Bolin will probably cry. He always does when things get overwhelming, no matter how hard he tries to play the brave idiot. But he has Opal. He has their twins. He’ll be fine. He has something real.
Korra and Asami… Spirits, even after all these years, there’s still a sting when I think about them. Nostalgia, mostly. I was a chapter in their story—a messy one—but they wrote their ending without me. And they deserved it. They found something real, something beautiful.
Chief Beifong will probably keep her usual stone face when they pull my body from the river. Maybe she’ll mutter a few words before sending the rookies back to work. Maybe she’ll actually pour one out in my name. Probably not. More likely, she’ll yell at my officers for screwing up the op and letting their Chief die.
Jinora and Kai... Spirits. I owe them an apology for missing book club. Kai always joked I was the only one who made it bearable—right before Jinora smacked him upside the head. I owe her a lot. She taught me how to meditate into the Spirit World, made the long stretches between jobs feel like more than empty hours. That spirit library… Spirits, I forgot how much I smiled in that place.
Somewhere along the line, I started seeing her as a sister. I think she’s the second person I’ll miss most.
My arm drifts in the water—
The one that never healed properly after Kuvira’s mech.
It looks fine. Normal. But it never stopped hurting. Always tingling, always half-dead. A permanent reminder of how much I gave and how little it changed.
The truth?
I stopped being part of Team Avatar after that day. Not really.
I was still there—in the photos, in the mission briefings, in the awkward reunions.
But never in the center.
Never when it mattered.
I was just “the ex.”
That’s all most people knew. And honestly? That’s all I felt like.
Just another officer.
Just another man slipping into darkness.
I close my eyes as the last breath leaves me.
Maybe in another life…
Maybe I could be the one leading the charge.
???: "I CAN WORK WITH THAT."
Who—?
Gasp.
Air floods my lungs. I lurch upright, body seizing as I choke and splutter.
I was ready for water. For cold. For death.
Solid ground beneath me. A stiff mattress.
The air is warm. No sirens. No chaos. No flashing lights.
I open my eyes.
Concrete walls. Training mats. Faint scent of sweat and cheap cologne. A cluttered nightstand with crumpled yuans and a half-eaten meat bun.
I know this place.
My heart hammers in my chest. I glance down—my hand is “normal”. Unscarred. No burns. No numbness.
And more than anything—
I can feel them. Fully.
My arm—
My arm works.
I let out a broken laugh, trembling as I clutch it like it might vanish if I blink.
Warm skin. Responsive. No numbness. No static.
No pain.
“I… I can feel it,” I whisper.
A laugh escapes—half-sob, half-breath. My shoulders tremble.
I feel my arm. Not just know it’s there. I feel it.
I bite down hard on my lip, but it’s useless. My eyes sting. My vision blurs. Relief crashes into me like a wave, too big to contain. Too much to hold back.
I shake. I nearly cry.
The door swings open.
Bolin: "Morning, bro!"
He strolls in, yawning, stretching like a lazy cat. Hair messier than usual. Younger. Softer face.
And Pabu—
Pabu is perched on his shoulder, looking adorable like always.
Spirits, I haven’t seen that little guy in years.
Bolin hugs me without warning, squeezing tight.
Bolin: "You were really out! I thought you were gonna sleep through the match. So not like you!"
The match.
I freeze. My eyes flick to the room again.
Training gear. Leather pads. Familiar smells and scuffed wood.
This is the night we meet her.
This is the night we meet Korra.
I'm back.
Bolin is still talking, rambling about food and flirting.
Bolin: "Anyway, I’m gonna go grab something to eat before the match. And, you know, check if there are any pretty ladies lurking around.”
[He waggles his eyebrows.]
"Never hurts to scope the crowd."
I shoot up from bed, nearly stumbling.
Bolin: "Whoa! Chill? You okay?"
This day—this exact day—is when we meet her .
Korra.
This is the day everything starts.
I run a hand through my hair. My fingers are trembling. My chest is too tight. My heart won’t slow down.
I need a minute.
I need a fucking minute.
Bolin : “You good, bro? If you’re worried about Hasook, don’t be. He swore he wouldn’t be late this time.”
Hasook.
The name hits me like a slap.
I haven’t thought about that guy in years.
Of course he’s still here—this is before he bailed. Before Korra took his place. Before everything shifted.
I take a deep breath, grounding myself. Then—out of nowhere—a laugh slips out.
Light. Breathless. Almost… gleeful.
A grin spreads across my face like I haven’t smiled in years.
Mako: “You know what, Bo?”
I shake my head, still grinning.
“I think I’ve never felt better.”
Because I’m back.
Because I got another shot.
Because this time…
I’m writing story for myself.