--- Narrator ---
The waves churned relentlessly against the fragile rowboat, the vastness of the ocean stretching endlessly in all directions. The boy sat motionless, his body curled inward to preserve warmth, though the fire in his veins had long since quieted. The unforgiving sun had burned his skin raw, and the salt air stung with every shallow breath he took. He had been adrift for hours—perhaps days and time had lost meaning, swallowed by the endless rise and fall of the sea.
His once-pristine robes were tattered, clinging to his thin frame like remnants of another life. Every stroke of the oars had long since ceased, his strength sapped by dehydration and fatigue. His thoughts, usually razor-sharp, were now sluggish and unfocused. His vision blurred, painting the world in wavering mirages. He barely registered the silhouette of a vessel in the distance, cutting through the waters like a specter emerging from the horizon.
A figure stood at its edge.
Then, darkness.
--- MC POV ---
The first sensation was the steady sway of a deck beneath him. The next was the sharp, unrelenting throb in his skull.
With great effort, I pried my eyes open. The room was dimly lit, illuminated by flickering lanterns that cast long shadows along the wooden walls. The scent of the sea mixed with something herbal, something bitter. A faint, damp cloth lay across my forehead.
I tried to sit up, but my limbs refused to cooperate, leaden and unresponsive. Before I could assess my situation further, a shadow moved near the door.
"You're finally awake. Good."
The voice was deep, steady, and calm.
My eyes struggled to focus on the man before me. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and carried himself with effortless grace. His long, dark hair was tied loosely at the nape of his neck, streaked with hints of silver. A well-trimmed goatee framed his strong jawline, and his piercing gray eyes studied me with a quiet intensity.
The weight of his gaze unsettled me. He was no ordinary sailor.
"Where…" My voice came out hoarse, barely more than a whisper. My throat burned from disuse, my stomach a hollow pit.
"You were found adrift," the man said, moving toward a nearby table. He poured a cup of something steaming and held it out to me.
"Drink. You've been unconscious for days."
I hesitated. His posture was relaxed, but there was a quiet power in how he moved, and how he observed. His clothing was simple—a black linen tunic and breeches with gold trimmings—but everything about him screamed discipline. Control.
I took the cup. The liquid inside was bitter and unfamiliar, but the warmth was soothing.
"What is this place?" I finally managed to ask.
"My ship," the man said, taking a seat across from me.
"You were drifting without supplies. If I had found you any later, you wouldn't have survived."
A long silence stretched between us.
I could feel the unspoken questions thick in the air. He hadn't asked for my name, my origins, my destination. Yet. But his eyes lingered on my face, on the golden hue of my irises, as if piecing together a puzzle.
He knows I'm Fire Nation.
"What's your name, boy?"
A simple question. One I had never hesitated to answer before.
But Sasuke was dead.
That name belonged to someone else—a prince, a prodigy, a pawn in a game he no longer played. My father had cast me into the ocean, expecting me to disappear.
If I were to survive, it would not be under that name.
Not under his shadow.
"…Yān Hǎi."
The name slipped from my lips as though it had always been there. Drowned in the sea, vanishing beneath the tides. A reflection of the void left inside me.
The man studied me for a moment, then gave a small, knowing nod. He did not question its truth.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Yān Hǎi," he murmured. "You will rest here until you regain your strength. We are a few days from the coast."
Another pause. I could see the gears turning in his mind, the unspoken thoughts behind his gaze. He would not press me for now, but he was not a fool. He had already drawn his conclusions.
"Why did you save me?" I asked, more curious than grateful.
The man raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly. "Because I could."
It wasn't an answer, but I was in no position to demand more.
I lay back, exhaustion once again pulling me under. The rhythmic sway of the ship and the presence of the enigmatic man were the last things I registered before sleep took me once more.
--- ??? POV ---
The boy slept deeply; his body weakened but not broken. He was a survivor.
I had seen countless men come and go in my time—warriors, nobles, refugees, and soldiers. But there was something different about this one.
His golden eyes, his rigid posture even in sleep. He had the bearing of royalty, yet the guarded wariness of someone who had lost everything.
He had given me a name, but not an identity. Yān Hǎi.
Disappearing into the sea.
I did not press him. Names carried weight, and when a man abandoned his own, it was not something to be questioned lightly. He would reveal himself in time, whether through words or actions.
But for now, he was just another lost soul at sea.
And I would see where the tides carried him.
(A/n: Yes. It is I, your author, back from the monotonous life he lives.
Now, we have someone going out of their way to save our MC. He has even left his old name behind, branding a new name for himself.
What are your thoughts on the name? It's Chinese and yes it means to "disappear into the sea".
Who could it be?
Some questions you may have:
Do I look at the comments? Yes. ALL OF THEM.
Am I incentivized to create more chapters? Nope. Not one.
Do I like this story? Very much!
Will I keep updating? Probably.
More questions? Leave a comment.)