Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Well, My Lady, I’d say this turn of events is stranger than fiction,” Chat Noir remarked as he landed on a Parisian rooftop beside Ladybug, executing a neat flip in the process.

Ladybug gave him a wry smile. “Except it is fiction, Chaton.”

“Indeed.”

A beam of golden light careened towards Ladybug, but Chat Noir didn’t even need to warn her—she leaned back to dodge the spell without even looking. After hundreds of fights, her experience clearly shone. That’s my Lady.

Seconds later, it became his turn to dodge, and the two wordlessly decided to abandon their perch for one further out of reach of the akuma. They ran along the rooftops together, veering occasionally out of the way of another blast.

“Aww, why are you running?” the akuma called after them, in such a guileless tone Chat had trouble parsing whether or not she was sincere. “I’m only giving you the best trip of your lives.”

Ah, yes. This particular akuma, “Y/N”, even under Hawkmoth’s insidious influence, had styled herself a benevolent villain, in her own warped way. 

(Yes, you heard Chat right. Y. Slash. N. )

Y/N, as she’d named herself, was body-swapping her victims with a fictional character from their favorite books, shows, musicals, movies, or what-have-you. (Chat Noir had had to dissuade himself from thinking about sheer possibilities of this idea too much, because otherwise, he’d start to want to get hit. ) According to Y/N, her universe-swapping served the functions of sending good people to a better world, removing bad people from this world, and providing herself with contact with her favorite characters, because “boys in books are so much better.” Chat and Ladybug had decided that this last declaration of Y/N’s was their likeliest hint to the reason Y/N had been akumatized. Perhaps her partner had let her down, leaving her wishing to escape into fiction instead of face reality. 

The name especially fit that theory, Chat snickered to himself. Ladybug hadn’t given him an indication of whether or not she knew what the term “Y/N” meant, but Chat… well, Chat couldn’t deny that he did. His internet browsing history could attest to that.

“No can do, Y/N ,” Chat called back. “I’m sure you wish you’d been sold to One Direction, but not everyone would find that desirable.”

From in front of him, Ladybug sent him a funny look over her shoulder, as though she didn’t know whether to laugh or grimace. Meaning: she absolutely did know what he was talking about, and thus, what Y/N meant. Chat smiled at the revelation. Maybe his Lady was a bigger nerd than she let on.

After a few more seconds of running, the golden-sparking blasts stopped coming. Ladybug hurled her yo-yo one last time and swung behind a wall of roofing, positioned so that even if the akuma came in her direction, she’d be safely hidden. Chat followed suit. 

As his boots made contact with the tiling, Chat peered down below them. The civilians in the street were in a state of confusion and chaos. One woman was yelling, “En garde!” at an unsuspecting mailman, who was shrinking away with his hands up. Another man was standing on the corner, lounging against the wall with a newspaper covering most of his face—but he wasn’t reading it. Instead, he was staring, unblinking, at the passers by, like they were particularly amusing rodents waiting to be taxidermied. Chat shuddered and tore his eyes away.

“You’ve got to wonder why Y/N isn’t swapping their bodies along with their minds,” he pondered aloud. “But at the same time, I’m not sure I even want to know what character that guy is.”

“Maybe, because the fictional universe isn’t real, Y/N’s power doesn’t actually do what she thinks it does,” Ladybug mused. “So therefore, her victims are just being forced to act out what they know of the character.”

“Hmm,” Chat said. He hadn’t thought of that.

“Or maybe, Hawkmoth stopped Y/N from switching both minds and bodies into another universe because if she hit either of us, our Miraculouses would be gone.”

Chat cringed. Okay, yep, that was more probable. Hawkmoth did love to prioritize the Miraculouses. But… could that mean alternate universes were truly real, then?…

Ladybug suddenly jumped, shaking herself. “Anyway! That’s not important! It’s not important to wonder if we really could have a chance to be in a fictional world, which would be super duper cool—” She gulped. Chat hid a smile at the indication that she’d been tempted, just like he had. Point Two for Nerd Ladybug. “Ahem! What’s important is where the akuma is located!” 

“Of course,” Chat replied. He risked a peek behind the wall. Y/N’s akumatized object looked as though it would be hard to find—not because there were no potential objects in sight, but because there were too many options. She was dressed like the archetypical Y/N everywoman—perhaps from a Coffee Shop AU, Chat thought—replete with a scarf, messenger bag, sweater, boots, and coffee in hand. The only thing marking her as an obvious akuma was how her entire figure, from her accessories to her skin, was glowing a soft gold. As Chat watched, she charged up another beam and struck a few more unlucky victims. He wondered if the coffee might be a lead–akumas often used their akumatized objects as a point-and-shoot channel for their powers—but Y/N struck that theory down quickly. The ray seemed to come from thin air, or perhaps her own hands. The whole time, she simply continued to carry her coffee, careful to keep it level.

Chat turned back to Ladybug. “I’m afraid I don’t have any ideas.” His mouth quirked into a grin. “Guess I’ve got to go on a hiatus, because I’m getting some serious writer’s block.”

Ladybug stared at him a moment. “Okay, that was bad, even for you.”

Chat sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

Rolling her eyes, Ladybug moved to peer around the corner herself. Y/N had moved closer in the time they’d stopped, but not enough to cause alarm. “That coffee…” she muttered. 

“I know,” Chat replied. “It looks like it should be something important, but she’s not even using it.”

Ladybug frowned, her features settling into her typical Thinking Face. Chat took comfort in that face. It usually heralded that things were about to work out for the better. “No matter. It’s too prominent not to be an option. Chat, how about you go for the coffee, and I go for that bag.”

Chat nodded. “Got it.”

Y/N strode closer, shooting everyone in her path with relish. She seemed to have started shouting, “Pew!” when she did so. Her latest victim, a teenage boy, after being knocked unconscious by the blast, woke and immediately began clutching at his right hand, staring at it in wonder, as if he couldn’t believe it was intact. Luke Skywalker? Chat’s mind guessed.

He shook himself. Not the time. 

“On my mark,” Ladybug whispered. “Three… two… one… go!”

Chat leapt to the right as Ladybug went left. With an attention-grabbing flourish, he planted himself into the middle of the street before Y/N.

“Ah, there you are, kitty cat,” the akuma crooned. The possibly-Luke-Skywalker civilian had finished patting himself down and had risen to his feet, backing slowly out of Y/N’s sightline. Y/N paid him no heed. 

“You know,” she continued as she stalked towards Chat, “I’ve always found the blonde-in-tight-leather thing kinda hot, even if the jokes are a bit much. I wonder if I could make someone dateable out of you.”

Chat felt some of the color drain from his face, and he stiffened.

Ladybug saved him from having to come up with a response to that by wrapping Y/N up with her yo-yo string. But, before she could come in with a kick, as per her usual, Possibly-Luke-Skywalker startled everyone by tackling Y/N to the ground, yanking Ladybug off course with a cry.

Whoops. Chat appreciated the thought.

Shaking the crawling feeling from Y/N’s comments from off his skin, Chat rushed forward, hoping to grab Possibly-Luke-Skywalker before Y/N could do something to hurt him. But Y/N was quicker.  She gave the boy a wild kick, before shaking off Ladybug’s strings. “Ugh, heroism is totally attractive, but not against me,” she groaned. “Privileges revoked.” She then aimed a beam point-blank at Possibly-Luke Skywalker, this one gray-colored instead of gold. It knocked him unconscious. Chat presumed his chance to meet a Jedi had just disappeared. Fortunately, Ladybug appeared to scoop up the civilian and deposit him out of harm’s way. 

Chat covered for her escape by giving Y/N a mighty whack with his pole. It connected across Y/N’s face in thoroughly satisfying fashion, causing her to stumble back. “Ouch,” she complained. Seizing the chance, Chat aimed a following blow at her kneecaps, but this time, Y/N caught his weapon in her hand. “Me-yowch, I definitely have to take care of that attitude,” she drawled.

Chat felt his eyes narrow, frustration growing at her… less-than-humanizing treatment. He got far too much of that as Adrien to have to deal with it as Chat Noir. He pressed further into Y/N, but it did nothing to break their deadlock, the two still both with a firm grip upon the staff. Chat searched for a way to counter… aha! He freed a hand from his pole in order to elbow Y/N’s coffee.

Y/N shrieked, releasing Chat as golden liquid sprayed everywhere. Chat flinched as some of it splattered on him, bracing for whatever came next…

…but nothing happened. Chat looked down at his suit. The droplets felt hot, but not terribly so. He sniffed. Was that just… normal coffee?

Harmless the coffee may have been, but his moment of confusion cost him. In the second before Chat Noir could react, Y/N aimed an accusatory, magical finger right at him.

“Chat!” Ladybug’s voice cried.

There was a blinding flash of golden light, and then all went dark.

Chapter Text

“A princess surrenders with honor,” Azula said. Even backed into a corner, hands raised, she remained perfectly calm, cold, calculating. 

Zuko ground his teeth at her jab, but attempted to shove down his frustration in order to keep a cool head. Azula surrendering was just about as likely as her telling the truth. She had to be up to something, finding some way out. 

How he was enjoying today’s family reunion. Banished as he was now, with Azula seeking to capture him, he was forced to fight her, just as the Avatar’s group was. It was a shameful situation, eating away like acid upon his wounded pride. He’d rather spend another month roaming with Uncle aimlessly about the Earth Kingdom, would rather be captured by the enemies and peasants surrounding him in this pathetic ghost town, than spend another minute like this—honorless, titleless, opposite Azula’s needling.

He hated to admit it, but—but now, in these circumstances, that needling had never been more effective.

The tension in the air thickened as the silence dragged on. Azula’s eyes surveyed the scene before her. Zuko had unconsciously let himself become part of an offensive circle with his enemies, advancing upon Azula. Azula glanced at the Avatar, at the Water Tribe peasants… at him. Zuko began to hold his breath, involuntarily.

And then she struck. But it wasn’t him, nor the Avatar, nor any of the Avatar’s friends, whom she struck. It was Uncle Iroh.

Zuko cried out as Azula’s wicked sparks connected. Uncle stumbled to the ground, pain plain on his face in a way Zuko had never seen before.

Fire roared in his ears. Zuko didn’t think, he just blasted. He barely took in the sight of every element working together—air, water, earth, and his own flame—nor the explosion afterwards. Frustration, as well as a bitter feeling of inevitability, registered within Zuko as he realized that Azula had made her escape, but it was distant, fleeting. What mattered most was Uncle. Zuko turned and rushed to him, his mind a fog of please be okay please be okay please be okay.

He felt Uncle’s chest. There was a heartbeat, thank Agni, but his shirt was smoking. There was sure to be damage. He—he didn’t know if he’d be able to do much good, if the damage was bad enough. Zuko rubbed his face, panic rising.

Zuko heard movement behind him, and stiffened. The Avatar and his friends were still here.

He shot them a glare. “Get away from us!” he snapped.

“Zuko, I can help,” the waterbender said anyway, stepping forward, as if Zuko could ever trust an enemy with something so important as Uncle’s life —

“Leave!” he cried.

Zuko had just begun to force them back with a spray of fire when the world suddenly disappeared, replaced by some sort of golden light. Zuko was unmoored, hurtling through space, every second taking him further and further away from Uncle, from the ability to start tending to his wounds now, what was this, how could it take him from Uncle at a time like this —

—and then Zuko’s vision went black, and everything stilled.

Zuko’s eyes fluttered open, and his first thought was to scramble to his feet.

The problem was, his body didn’t seem to respond in the way he’d been expecting. Zuko tottered forwards, his balance wavering, and it took multiple awkward steps to stabilize himself. Steps in strange, metal-toed black leather boots, upon tan cobblestone.

This was not what he’d been wearing. This was not the ground he’d last stepped on.

Zuko felt his heartbeat quicken, and he lifted his head, dreading what he might see. Thankfully, it wasn’t his sister’s cold, sneering face, nor that of another captor after his reward money. But the sight didn’t help him narrow down where he was. In fact, it… quite possibly couldn’t have been stranger. 

Zuko was standing at the edges of a well-kept city street, paved with cobblestones and lined with sturdy, though a touch strangely-styled, buildings. A smattering of people were running away from the area, dressed in unfamiliar clothing. But none of them looked as odd as the figures fighting in front of them.

Zuko blinked, having half a mind to doubt his eyes. The scene before him did not change.

One of the combatants was… golden. Or, even, made of golden light. Her hair, her skin, her clothes, everything she wore shone that same color Zuko had seen in a flash of light before he’d arrived here. But even more strange were the sparkling beams of light she seemed to shoot from her hands. It clearly was not fire, nor lightning, nor earth, water, nor air. It looked almost like Zuko had imagined… spirit magic.

Was he in the spirit world?

The other combatant was no less wildly dressed. From head to toe, she was covered in red with black spots like a ladybug, the fabric compressed strangely close to her skin. A mask covered her face, and she fought with… what appeared to be… a yo-yo. One with an impossibly long string, that seemed to detangle itself every time its master called for its retreat. 

Zuko stared. Spirits. The spirit world. It had to be.

He took a sharp breath in. Uncle had spoken often of the spirits, told many tales and old legends. Zuko had always dismissed the stories as silly fables unworthy of his time. What would the spirits ever have to do with a banished prince?

He cursed himself now. The spirits clearly had seen fit to visit him. He hated their timing, his mind still whirling with worry for Uncle, hoping despite himself that, if the spirits had snatched him away, the Avatar’s waterbender really would help as she’d said she would. But he was here now, and he could afford to think of nothing but surviving the encounter.

Zuko wracked his brain. Spirits in Uncle’s tales could be helpful or unhelpful, proud and vengeful. One common thread he remembered, however, was that any spirit must be treated with utmost respect. To provoke their wrath was to invite doom.

Zuko steeled himself, and took a step closer to the spirits, hoping to address them, when the spotted spirit suddenly sent the golden spirit flying into a building across the street, in a show of clearly inhuman strength. Zuko cringed backward from the resulting crash. 

Okay, so maybe it was too dangerous for him to draw closer. Perhaps he could attempt to address them from here…?

And then the spotted spirit suddenly came careening towards him, and before Zuko could so much as protest, lifted him off the ground and up through the air.

Zuko bit back several curses, though the wind took away his breath anyway. He hated feeling helpless like this, dangling at the mercy of the spirit’s tight grip. His stomach dropped as the spirit dipped down, then up, down, then up, swinging them from her fantastical yo-yo. Not a moment too soon, the spirit set him down, surprisingly gently, upon a rooftop. Zuko cased his new surroundings. They were out of sight of the golden spirit. People milled about below, but many seemed to be in some sort of distress. Zuko frowned. Were these spirits themselves, or perhaps trapped souls of the dead…?

Zuko quickly refocused on the spirit, loathe to let her too far out of sight. She was staring back at him, but her gaze was neither stern, nor ancient, as he might have expected. If Zuko dared to describe it, it looked… perhaps… unsure? Searching? Spirits forbid, awkward ?

The spotted spirit seemed to start, as though she’d just remembered something. “Ah, sorry about that. Um, stay here,” she said. Then, she slung her yo-yo far away, evidently preparing to leave.

 “Wait!” Zuko exclaimed before thinking better of it. And he did think better of it. What happened to don’t upset the spirit, Zuko —

But the spirit turned aside, seemingly unoffended. And then she looked at him, as though waiting for him to say something.

Zuko schooled himself and decided to do what politeness required, what he should have done in the first place. Pressing his hands together, one fist closed, one palm open, as was Fire nation custom, he bowed low. “Greetings, great spirit,” he replied. Then he straightened. “Why have you brought me here?”

At this, the spirit… somehow looked even more confused. “Oh, uh, I’m not a spirit,” she sputtered. “I, uh…” She brought a hand to her temple, clutching at her hair. “I don’t really know how to say this, but you aren’t in your own world. The akuma brought you here. I’m sorry about that.”

Zuko stared. Not a spirit… not in his own… “What?”

The spotted… lady winced. “You’re in a different universe, er, world. I can fix it, though, I promise.”

She made to leave again, and this time, Zuko grabbed her hand, sudden irritation seizing him. If not a spirit, then what was she? And— not in his own world? What would happen to Uncle if he remained here any longer? “You can fix it? Or you will?”

A frown crossed her features. “I can’t promise you I will, because I have to defeat the akuma—ah, supervillain—in order to do it. But I will tell you I’ve never lost yet.”

“Defeat the— who ?”

The spotted lady wrenched her arm back, frown deepening. Great, yep, you’ve definitely succeeded in making her mad already. A Zuko special. She sighed. “Alright. Listen. My name is Ladybug, and I fight magical supervillains with my partner, named Chat Noir. The magical supervillain I was just fighting—you saw her? Gold all over?”

Zuko held his tongue and nodded. 

“Well, uh, she brought you here, but in Chat Noir’s body, which… isn’t ideal. But I’m going to get right to defeating her, and then that’ll put you right back to normal. I told you, I’ve never lost yet, even with Chat out of commission.” She turned away and made to leave again, like that answered everything. “Just wait here.” And then she sailed away, along with any other hope of answers.

Zuko stood still, his mind wheeling and processing. He nearly made to climb down the building to pursue her, but something stopped him. Uncle always said he never thought things through. Well… he could try to prove Uncle wrong.

Zuko began to pace across the rooftop. It became clear, quickly, that Ladybug wasn’t lying, when she said he was in someone else’s body. Chat Noir, she had said. All the better Zuko hadn’t tried to climb down like this, then, he supposed. He wobbled on his feet, his limbs ever-so-slightly the wrong length. Shorter, perhaps. It annoyed him greatly, but Zuko kept doggedly placing one foot in front of the other, until he could feel himself begin to adjust.

So, Zuko was in another world. It wasn’t the spirit world—at least, he didn’t think so, because, if so, all this would be stranger than any ploy of the spirits he’d ever heard of—but instead, it was likelier a different world entirely. This world had… super-villains, was that the term the spotted spirit—ah, Ladybug used? Well, clearly, they were villains with magical abilities of some sort. Zuko recalled the golden spirit—er, lady, that Ladybug was fighting, with the bursts of golden light. Perhaps this was one of the magical villains Ladybug meant. Evidently, Ladybug had some sort of magic on her side as well, if her inhuman strength, plus that yo-yo, were any indication. Perhaps a weird sort of magic was supposed to be common in this world.

It occurred to Zuko, however, that he would have to be sure he could trust Ladybug, if he were to take her as the hero in this equation, and the golden lady as the villain. But Ladybug had told him her intent to fix everything, to get Zuko home, so she seemed his best bet for now. However, Ladybug had also said she wouldn’t be able to fix it without defeating this villain. And since Zuko was in the body of her usual partner, this Chat Noir? Meaning that Chat Noir was out of commission? “I’ve never lost yet,” she’d claimed. Zuko scoffed internally. That kind of overconfidence got people killed. Or, worse, reminded him of his sister. Except, unfortunately, with Azula, the confidence wasn’t unearned…

Zuko shook his head, willing himself to focus. So, his only chance at getting home was defeating the golden villain lady. And “Ladybug” claimed she could do it, but wasn’t completely certain. Ladybug usually had help, in the form of the Chat Noir whose body Zuko was currently occupying. Perhaps Chat Noir had some sort of magical ability as well…

Zuko lifted his—or, Chat Noir’s—hands and stared at them. Like the rest of him, they were covered in the same black, skintight, durable material that Zuko concluded was not leather after all. The tips of the gloves ended in claws. Upon his right hand was a gaudily-colored ring, the bright green pawprint almost blinding. Did Chat Noir dress himself after some sort of animal? Were his abilities somehow associated with it? 

The sounds of screaming picked up below him, and Zuko clenched his jaw, beginning to pace faster. Screaming was never a good sign. Oh, how Zuko hated just sitting and doing nothing. He was unfamiliar with this body, with this body’s abilities, which didn’t bode well for his ability to fight, but if he depended on the fight below to get home…

Zuko was just about to scale down the building and jump into the fray, his doubts be damned, when Ladybug suddenly came hurtling towards the building and onto the rooftop, before skidding to a stop in front of him. She was breathing heavily, and clutching what looked like a… red-and-black-spotted Pai Sho tile? The spots upon it looked like they might have been in the same shape as the pawprint on Chat Noir’s ring. 

“Ah, excuse me,” Ladybug panted. “But it seems I am in need of your help after all…”

She arched a brow, though not in an unfriendly way. It took Zuko a moment to realize she was asking for his name. “Zuko,” he provided.

Ladybug froze, her eyes widening. “Wait, did you say Zuko? ”

Zuko folded his arms, offended. “Do you have something against my name?”

Ladybug let out a trilling, extremely nervous-sounding laugh. “Uh, no, me? Nope, no way! Uh…” She seemed to collect herself. “Well, uh, Zuko—” she muttered something under her breath after saying his name, which only raised Zuko’s hackles further— “my Lucky Charm says I need Chat Noir in this fight, which right now, is, uh, you, so—”

A beam of golden light sailed over their heads, and Ladybug jumped out of its way. “We need to move,” she said, turning to him, and ran to the opposite side of the rooftop. Zuko followed suit, relieved when he managed not to trip over his own feet this time, but still simmering with frustration. Would she ever give him a straight answer, for once? Or stop treating him like… like…

Ladybug made to sling her yo-yo far across the rooftops again, but, glancing at him over her shoulder, seemed to realize something. “Oh! Zut, you must not know—” She gestured wildly, in a way that helped absolutely nothing. Zuko cocked his head, eyes narrowing. “Your staff!” she exclaimed, reaching exaggeratedly to the small of her back. In confusion, Zuko slowly raised a hand to his own back, following her mimed gestures… and found a small baton, no larger than one half of a pair of nunchucks, fastened there. He stared at it. This tiny thing was supposed to help… how?

A blast of light whizzed by them, and they both stiffened. 

“It extends!” Ladybug cried. “Just press the button—”

Zuko did, and suddenly, he had a bo staff in his hands. But then it kept growing. And growing. Spirits, did this thing have an end?—

Zuko’s reflexes screamed at him, and he barely jumped back in time to avoid another beam of light.

“Oh, screw it,” Ladybug grumbled, and then suddenly, Zuko was smooshed next to her, and they were careening through the air once more.

This time, Zuko did not hold back his curses.

The sound of Ladybug’s chuckles were muffled, yet audible above the wind. Zuko found his annoyance growing.

At last, Ladybug deposited them once more upon a different rooftop. This time, they appeared to be cloistered between several walls of roofing. Hiding. 

Zuko had no time to catch his breath or get a word in before Ladybug barreled on, seeming to recognize no pause in their conversation. “The staff is magical,” she told him. “It responds to your wishes—oh, here—”

She made a grab for it, and Zuko instinctively snatched his arm back. As he did so, however, the staff shrank back into the size of a bo staff, the size he was more familiar with. Zuko stared at it in wonder, placing his hands into position on either side of it. Well. Small miracles. Although, he really felt more comfortable with twin weapons, rather than a singular one—

“I know you’re more used to—ah, I mean! You might prefer two? Weapons?” Ladybug said suddenly. He stared at her, wondering if he’d heard that right, and she could read his mind as well as throw people into buildings a street away. “Well, it splits in half, so you can have two,” she finished, lamely.

A slight shift in pressure from his hands, and suddenly the staff split into two. Zuko gave the batons an experimental swing. They weren’t bad—in fact, they were extremely, impossibly light—but… but his limbs still felt so off. He rather doubted he could fight properly.

Ladybug, oblivious, simply exclaimed, “Oh, great! Uh, okay, now that you’ve got the staff down, I need to explain about Cataclysm.”

“Okay?” Zuko prompted.

Ladybug screwed her face into a look of concentration. “Every Miraculous user, like us—” she paused, and evidently saw his face of flat confusion, because she wheeled and backtracked. “Oh, wait, I need to explain what Miraculouses are, too!—”

“We don’t have all day,” Zuko snapped. “The villain lady will be back soon, right?”

“Sorry,” Ladybug squeaked. Then, she muttered under her breath, “must be from Season One or Two.” Zuko had no idea what that was supposed to mean, and he really wished she’d stop doing that. Biting back a retort, he said instead, “Go on?”

And thus began a rather long-winded, confusing explanation involving cursed butterflies, magical incantations, strange names and aliases, and mind control . Zuko felt some of his annoyance give way to foreboding at that. A villain—or, as Ladybug kept saying, “supervillain”—with the ability to force people to do his will? To control their very thoughts?

Zuko was liking this strange world less and less. He wanted to get back to Uncle, now. He wanted to be back in the Four Nations. Heck, although the Fire Nation was his true home, right now, even the backwater Earth Kingdom ghost town he’d been snatched from by this akuma would be better. Zuko rubbed his forehead, running through the information Ladybug had given him in an attempt to commit it to memory. Chat Noir. Ring. Cataclysm. Power of Destruction. One use. Recharge. Akuma. Cursed Object. Destroy. Purify.

“So… does that make sense?” Ladybug asked. Her eyes were watching him with poorly disguised nerves. Spirits, she could be so jumpy. He didn’t like it. It put him on edge.

Zuko sighed. “Yeah, I understand,” he groused. Turning away, he straightened and took the batons back out, running through a kata.

Only, a few seconds in, and he could feel nothing but frustration. It wasn’t just that the batons were far too light. In fact—

— oh, Zuko realized. If Ladybug possessed magically enhanced strength, Chat Noir’s body might be the same. It would explain why his every swing was overblown, as if he didn’t know his own strength—because he didn’t. Zuko cursed under his breath. That strength might be helpful in a different situation, but now? It was just one more obstacle. This body’s different balance wasn’t helping matters, holding back all of Zuko’s practical combat and stealth skills. And then there was firebending—

—could he even firebend?

Zuko held up a black-gloved hand, took a breath in, and attempted to summon a flame.

Nothing happened. Zuko’s heart sank further. Great, just great.

“Bending, ah, isn’t a thing, here,” Ladybug jutted in, and Zuko whirled to face her.

He narrowed his eyes, suspicion suddenly rising. First the twin blades, now this… “If bending ‘isn’t a thing here,’ how do you know about it?”

Ladybug looked like a moose-lion in the lamplights. Aha, he’d known something was suspicious with her. Growling under his breath, Zuko was about to interrogate her when the screaming started up again. Ladybug sprang to attention, scurrying to the edge of the roof. Then she gasped. “Alya,” she murmured. Without another word, she flung herself—again–straight off the roof.

“Hey!” Zuko shouted after her. “I’m not done with you!” Mind consumed by the need to get answers out of her, Zuko grabbed the batons and connected them as Ladybug had described. Then he willed the staff to extend. Thankfully, it worked. 

Then, Zuko came to himself. He paused at the lip of the roof, watching Ladybug as she talked to a citizen down below on the street. Zuko suddenly realized how far down he was about to jump. Aww, Zuzu, you aren’t scared, are you? Azula’s voice purred.

Baring his teeth, Zuko pushed her aside and leapt.

His heart jumped into his throat as he fell, his clawed, gloved fingers white-knuckling upon the staff. But Zuko had once pulled a stunt similar to this as the Blue Spirit, along with the Avatar, to evade Pouhai Stronghold’s guards. Despite his unwieldy body, he felt he should be able to pull it off.

Zuko muscled himself up with the staff, and, with a surprising amount of ease, he was soaring upwards once more.

And then he realized, as his upward trajectory began to slow, that he had to retract the staff in order to vault himself again. 

Zuko leaned backward, pressing desperately on the staff’s button. He could feel the timing of his next leap slipping, his balance shifting too far behind. Zuko managed to extend the staff once more, but the lift was off, and Zuko found himself hurtling towards the side of a building, with no way to break his fall—

Zuko covered his head with his arms just in time to hit the building with a slam. 

Dust crumbled. Glass shattered. For a moment, Zuko couldn’t breathe. His whole body ached, as though he’d been trampled by an ostrich-horse.

And then the dust settled, and Zuko lifted his head to discover he was… fine?

Magic. 

“Oh, Bonjour, Chat Noir,” a voice said, and Zuko started. A man was sitting in a desk right next to where he’d crash-landed.

Zuko groaned and pried himself off the ground, slowly tottering to his feet. The man was still looking at him. Zuko’s face flamed, but he managed an embarrassed half-nod.

Grabbing the staff once more, Zuko crept to the edge of the hole he’d just made in the building. He eyed his trajectory, then closed his eyes, calculating more exactly. Once he was sure he could make the leap, Zuko jumped. Thankfully, this time, he managed to reach the ground, though he still promptly rolled into several unintentional somersaults upon landing. Once again, the magical suit, strength, and durability worked in his favor, and Zuko found himself able to rise to his feet once more with little difficulty. 

Ladybug was still talking to the same girl as he approached. She had reddish-brown hair, browned skin, and was holding… some sort of glowing, rectangular object. Was this another magical item Ladybug had failed to explain?

“You need to stop doing this, now that we don’t have the necklace anymore,” Ladybug was saying, gesticulating wildly with her arms. 

“I have to do something, M—Ladybug,” the girl shot back.  “And I told you, I’m not just filming this time, I’m helping evacuate the street.”

“With your phone out!”

“Hey, the Ladyblog never went away! You’re telling me I can’t—”

Zuko didn’t understand what they were going on about, and he didn’t care. He grabbed Ladybug’s arm and yanked her close, effectively interrupting the argument. “Why do you know things about me?” he growled.

Ladybug only let out a peal of nervous laughter. “I, uh—”

“Chat Noir!” the girl’s voice cried, and Zuko whirled to glare at her. She gave him an appraising look, and then suddenly, the glowing object was back in her hands. She turned to Ladybug. “Ladybug, has Chat Noir been hit by Y/N? Do you know what character he is?”

Ladybug’s expression cooled. “Chat Noir has indeed been hit, but any other details, as of now, are classified,” she said, a note of warning entering her voice.

The girl turned the glowing box to herself. “You heard it here, folks,” she said. She then waved at it, as though it was a person. “Alya, signing off for now!” There was a click, and then the box was no longer glowing. She pocketed it, before bounding back to Ladybug and Zuko. “Okay, seriously, girl, you’ve got to tell me who he is.”

Zuko had lost his patience for this. He gave Ladybug’s arm another yank. “I asked you a question,” he muttered through gritted teeth. 

Ladybug looked between the girl—Alya—and Zuko with trepidation in her eyes. “Zuko, can we please do this la—”

Alya gasped. “Zuko?”

It was far too similar to Ladybug’s reaction. This strange girl, as well? With the arm that wasn’t holding Ladybug’s, Zuko grabbed Alya, growling, “Why do both of you know who I am?”

“Season One or Two Zuko,” Ladybug whispered frantically, and Zuko allowed Chat Noir’s claws to tighten upon her arm.

“You didn’t tell him?” Alya whispered back.

“Tell me what ?”

“That you’re a fictional character in our world?” Alya said, finally addressing him.

Zuko could only take so many of these wild revelations. “What?”

The sound of another blast whizzed past them, and Ladybug made to get away, but Zuko yanked her back into place. 

“Yeah, it’s like—like how Love Amongst the Dragons is to you, you know?” Alya continued. “You’re a story in a… play, to us.”

Zuko’s spine chilled at the mention of the play he’d watched with his mother, out of the mouth of a stranger, as if she knew him. “A story?” he parrotted, his mouth dry. “I’m just… I’m just a story to you?”

Ladybug winced. “Yeah. Sorry.” 

Another beam flew by, but Zuko kept holding them tight, scrambling as he tried to formulate his next words. “How… how much do you know about me, then?”

At this, Alya and Ladybug exchanged glances. “Uh…” 

Zuko took that to mean, way too much .

Just then, a ball of light took aim directly for the center of the tiny circle they’d formed, and Zuko released them in order to duck. The flying spell hit the pavement with a rattling boom.

Zuko ground his teeth. That’s it, he hated this. His life was already a miserable wreck—what had made the spirits see fit to torture him even worse? 

“Zuko, you want to get home, right?” Ladybug called to him as another spell took aim. “Just help me fight.” 

The next beam shot for him, and Zuko instinctually parried it with the staff. More followed, and with a groan, Zuko resigned himself to the fight. Splitting the staff into two, he began to bat the beams away. His skill gap was as bad as he feared, however. His limbs were all wrong, and the batons weren’t as wide as his dao blades—which must have been why one blast slipped past his guard. Zuko could only stare, eyes wide, as the beam of light disappeared into his chest.

And… nothing.

Zuko waited a beat longer. Still, nothing happened. 

“You’ve already been switched, so you must be immune,” Ladybug’s voice shouted, and he looked up in time to watch her execute an impressive series of acrobatics to avoid being hit herself.

It was probably the only good news Zuko had heard all day.

“Do you remember about the akumatized object?” Ladybug shouted.

“Of course,” Zuko snapped back. He turned to the villain… akuma, as Ladybug had called her. She practically throbbed with golden light, up close. It was strange, the color gold being something Zuko had always associated with his homeland, with Agni, the color of the sun. Gold had often been something of a comfort, to him. But looking at this villain, he was reminded of its double-edged sword. This akuma’s gold was not warmth, but a deadly furnace. He didn’t want to draw closer; he wanted to run.

Well, if it was the way to get home.

Zuko gripped his batons tight, preparing to charge.

“Oho, if it isn’t Not-Chat Noir!” the akuma cackled. She bobbed a lopsided curtsey. “And you are, sir?”

Zuko didn’t deign that with a response, instead taking a running leap. He snatched at Ladybug’s first idea for the akumatized object—the lady’s scarf. The akuma was quick to dodge, however, and followed by slamming him with a cup of hot liquid she inexplicably carried with her. The drink smelled pungent, like a form of tea Zuko had never tasted. But the splatters cooled fast. Brushing it off, Zuko threw himself back into the fight with more force than strictly necessary.

“Hmm, are you the strong and silent type, maybe?” the akuma drawled as she danced out of the way, batting her eyes like one of the nobles’ daughters that had thrown themselves at him over the years, no doubt hoping for a fancy title. Her movements were infuriatingly casual, as if they were simply chatting over tea.

Zuko grunted, lashing out with his batons.

“Or,” the akuma continued, eyes narrowing. “Maybe I didn’t get so lucky, and you’re just surly.”

Oh, Zuko had been called that one more than enough times in his life. He aimed a particularly vicious swing at her face, which, to his delight, connected.

The akuma gave him a withering glare, kneeing him in the gut in return. Zuko doubled over, tears pricking at his eyes. “Either way, you’re just the same,” she hissed. “Still set against me. Why did I even bother?”

As Zuko stumbled backward, he noticed, through blurry vision, a glowing, purple mask-like shape appear before the akuma’s face. Suddenly, the akuma stopped looking at him, and instead started to engage in what seemed like… a conversation with an invisible person.

This must be that Hawkmoth, or Monarch, or whatever Ladybug was talking about, Zuko realized all of a sudden. The mind controller.

He suddenly felt cold.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, all you want is the jewelry,” the akuma huffed, waving her hand dismissively.

Behind her, Zuko saw Ladybug drawing closer, yo-yo twirling in her hand. Their eyes connected.

Ladybug jutted her chin in the direction of the akuma, clearly attempting to communicate some sort of plan. Zuko furrowed his brow briefly, trying to convey his confusion. Did she want him to distract, or use his Cataclysm power, or…?

“Oooh, I hadn’t thought of that,” the akuma purred to Hawkmoth. Then, the glowing outline flickered away, and she fixed Zuko with an uncomfortable stare. Zuko had the feeling she was undressing him with her eyes. “Say, I’d forgotten you can’t fight back without that Miraculous of yours.” And then she pounced.

But, to Zuko’s shock, she didn’t pounce at him.

She’d noticed Ladybug, creeping in behind her.

With one well-aimed blast, Zuko’s temporary partner—the only one who even knew what in the spirits’ name was going on—went down, and Zuko was on his own.

Unable to afford to panic, Zuko immediately leapt at the akuma, tackling her to the ground before she could take Ladybug’s miraculous. The akuma screeched in protest. Zuko kicked her in the gut, then yanked her scarf over her eyes, hoping it would be enough to keep her down for a moment. Then, he scrambled to his feet, scooped up Ladybug’s body, and sprinted  for his life.

Chapter Text

It occurred to Adrien, as he streaked incorporeally across a golden maelstrom of light, that maybe he should feel some sort of… remorse, or trepidation, or shame over his current situation.

He’d gotten himself hit by the akuma. What was worse—at least, if one were to ask Ladybug—he’d sacrificed himself for her by jumping in the way, again. For reasons unknown to Adrien, Ladybug had gotten even more upset at him than usual for the habit in recent weeks. But… Adrien still didn’t see a way around the fact that Ladybug was the only one who purified akumas and enacted the Miraculous Cure. Taking the hits for her seemed to be, in all fairness, part of the job description of Chat Noir.

So, Adrien didn’t feel as sorry about what he’d done as he suspected Ladybug would wish him to be. But, to tell the truth, Adrien also lacked a good deal of remorse because… he was on his way to meeting some of his favorite friends he hadn’t met yet.

Or, in other words, to any normal person—his favorite fictional characters.

Adrien’s incorporeal heart skipped a beat as his sensation of freefall accelerated, until his vision went black and he felt all the motion come to an abrupt halt, like he’d landed back in his body.

Or, to be more accurate, a body.

Adrien’s eyes opened of their own accord, and he sat up. He was sprawled upon a clearing of dirt—or, perhaps, as he looked around, an old-timey street. A scent of smoke hung heavily in the air he breathed in. Besides some Asian influences in the architecture of the huts that lined the street, Adrien had not observed enough of the setting yet to properly determine where he was. (Asian-style buildings hardly narrowed anything down for Adrien, considering just how much anime he watched.) Adrien panned left and right, looking for clues…

…and saw a figure crouched near him, lit by a sky-blue glow. Adrien did a double-take, and then looked closer. That looked like… waterbending healing.

Though she was no longer a cartoon, but a fleshed-out person, it didn’t take a genius to know who this was. Katara. Real, live, actual Katara, of the Southern Water Tribe. Dieu, Adrien had just landed in Avatar: the Last Airbender.

With a giddy yelp, Adrien jumped to his feet. And then swayed, and quite nearly fell over, because right, this wasn’t his body. Which begged the question, who was he…?

“Zuko?” someone said, and Adrien whirled to face who had spoken. A bald head, a blue arrow. Aang.

“Oh, uh, hi!” Adrien greeted. And then his mind caught up.

He was in Zuko’s body…? Oh, interesting . Adrien reached a hand up to the left side of his face, now noticing how the skin felt thick and tight there. His fingers brushed along the rough edges of the scar. Adrien absently wondered why it had been Zuko he’d been swapped with. Undoubtedly, though, he loved the character. There was a part of him that was disappointed, considering he would have loved to have met Zuko. Though that might depend on the season of the show. Speaking of… Adrien quickly cataloged the presence of Toph, and the half-burned state of the ghost town around them, and then Uncle Iroh’s slumped form on the dirt. Oh. Adrien knew this episode. Season Two, The Chase. So then, the Gaang would probably be a bit…

Suspicious. Adrien belatedly turned back to Aang, who had settled into a tense stance—not quite a threat of bending yet, but ready enough that he could strike if need be. Sokka, for his part, was raising his boomerang with something halfway between confusion and determination on his face, threat clear. Toph simply watched (in her way) a few paces back, arms folded. And Katara had, by now, become alert to the situation. She paused her healing session and rose slowly, a glove of water at the ready. Adrien took a step back and put his hands up to indicate he meant no harm, heartbeat quickening slightly at the thought of being on the other end of a fight with her. He had no doubt she could, and would, level him at the slightest indication of him intending to hurt her friends.

Perhaps the reason why she was one of his biggest fictional crushes.

“Okay, that’s just weird, ” Sokka’s voice remarked, and Adrien snapped himself out of it. Sokka gestured at him with his non-boomerang-holding hand. “Why is he smiling? Is his face even meant to smile?”

Aang’s brow furrowed, and he took a cautious step forward. “My instincts are telling me… you’re not Zuko.”

Adrien felt a rush of relief. “Yeah,” he exhaled. “I’m definitely not. My apologies if I startled you.”

Sokka made a squawking sound. “Wait, what? ”

“Aang, tell us what you sense,” Katara ordered, still holding her water-gloved arm forward as she strode closer to the group.

“I…” Aang narrowed his eyes. “There’s something off with his chi. No, really wrong. It feels like he’s a completely different person.”

“Not more spirit nonsense,” Sokka grumbled.

Katara locked eyes with him. Adrien suppressed the urge to squirm. Her gaze was perhaps the most intense he’d ever experienced, scrutinizing him so thoroughly he felt flayed raw by the time she withdrew, disbelief dawning on her face.

“You’re right,” she concluded, voice at a near whisper.

Adrien felt like he should, perhaps, start again. “Ah, I’m sorry. This is kind of my fault. Let me introduce myself.” He bowed, in the formal way his etiquette tutor had instilled in him. “Hello, my name is Adrien. I’m from a different universe.”

“Different universe?” Toph echoed.

Sokka facepalmed. “That’s it!” he exclaimed. Then, he turned on his heel and began to walk away. Adrien supposed that, given what he knew of Sokka’s keen dislike of all non-scientific supernatural phenomena, he should try not to be offended. 

Katara sent a glare at her brother’s retreating back, then turned back to him. Her face schooled itself into a far more, polite expression, one of slightly forced pleasantness, though the tense way she held herself indicated she was still wary. “Sorry about him.”

Aang seemed to gather himself, and then reciprocated Adrien’s bow. “Greetings, Adrien. I’m Avatar Aang, and these are my friends. Toph—” the earthbender gave a curt nod— “Katara”—she waved— “and…” Aang gestured lamely in the direction Sokka had gone. “Uh, that’s Sokka.”

“Nice to meet you,” Adrien said. He figured it would come off really creepy if he indicated he already knew their names. “Again, I’m really sorry about this. It was an accident, and your friend should be back to his own body soon.” Katara’s face noticeably soured at the word “friend,” but she made no comment. 

“Um…” Adrien glanced around, eye contact becoming difficult at the awkwardness of it all. The sight of Iroh lying on the ground made him draw in a sharp breath, suddenly remembering the situation he’d found them in. “Oh, you were in the middle of healing that man, weren’t you?” he said to Katara. “I don’t want to interrupt you, that seems important.”

“I…” Katara gave Iroh a glance, one that clearly indicated she was itching to get back to him. 

“Go, Sweetness,” Toph piped up, striding closer to join ranks with Aang. “We’ve got your back.”

With one last wary look, Katara retreated to Iroh’s side, placing her water-gloved hands over his chest. The blue glow of healing followed, and Adrien found it hard to look away, the light of it even more entrancing in all its live-action detail. This world was so cool.

Aang cleared his throat, and Adrien snapped his head back to face him, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“You say you’re from another universe,” Aang started slowly. “Uh, I don’t mean to be rude, but how do we know that?”

“Oh, uh…” Adrien grimaced, trying to gauge if it was worth telling them that they were literal fictional characters to him. He thought not. “I suppose I can’t prove it to you, besides what you might sense about me, spirit-wise. But back in my universe, I was just hit with a…er, spell, that swapped my body with the body of your friend here. He should be in my body back in my universe right now, which… again, sorry about that. But there isn’t really anything I can do about that right now, besides wait. I have a partner on the job, and she’s really good at what she does. She’s going to fix it soon.”

Aang gave Toph a poorly-masked incredulous glance. He tapped the ground subtly with his foot as an afterthought, evidently realizing the need to signal her in a way she could “see.”

Toph shrugged. “Well, he’s telling the truth,” she said. “Or, he thinks he is. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

Aang turned back to Adrien, looking as if this were one of the times he wished anyone else were the Avatar, calling the shots. “Uh… I see. Well, uh, welcome to the Earth Kingdom, I guess, uh, Adrien.”

“Thank you, Aang,” Adrien said, giving him what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

There was another awkward lull in the conversation, and Adrien couldn’t help his mind from wandering. Specifically, from wandering in the direction of bending, and the fact that he was in Zuko’s body, so, currently, he could bend. Adrien raised a hand, staring at his palm. Would it be too suspicious for him to try and call up a flame now? Bending is normal for the people in Avatar, sure, but would they be wise enough to suspect it wasn’t for his universe?—

“So,” Toph’s voice cut into his thoughts. “What’s this universe of yours like?” Aang looked at her a bit like she’d just declared she could firebend.

Adrien found that to be a rather broad question. “Er…” He rubbed the back of his neck once more. Where would he even start? “Well, we don’t have an Earth Kingdom, there.”

“No duh,” Toph said. “Maybe you even have a Metal Kingdom. Or a Sky Kingdom.”

Adrien resolutely ignored the irony of Toph bringing up metal as something apart from her own element. She hadn’t invented metalbending yet, as of now. “We don’t have nations based on elements, where I’m from. Our countries are mostly based on ethnic groups.” Aang and Toph both had blank looks on their faces. “We have our own languages,” Adrien tried. “Like, for example, I speak French, and consider myself French, and I live in France. Though, not everyone who lives in France is from a French background, but I think that gives you the idea.”

“I don’t think you’re speaking ‘French’ right now,” Aang remarked. He looked as though he was starting to get curious about the idea of multiple worlds, despite himself.

“Something about the body-swap probably took care of the language barrier,” Adrien said.

“Do you have bending?” was Toph’s next question.

Adrien was sure his eyes were shining. Now they were talking. “No, what is that?”

“That smile looks so weird on Zuko’s face,” Aang muttered.

Toph clapped her hands together with a wicked grin. “Watch close, Smiley Face, because you’re about to get a demonstration.”

Aang gave a slight grimace. “Uh, Toph—”

But Toph paid him no heed. And what a demonstration it was. Toph sent up columns of rock in a circle round about them, and then broke one of them into many smaller fragments. Adrien felt his jaw drop as she sent one of these fragments, all at once, crashing into each pillar.

“Hey!” Katara shouted, and Toph’s movements stilled, causing the moving rocks to grind to a halt along with her. “What are you doing? You’re disturbing my patient!”

Adrien cringed, hard. He glanced at Uncle Iroh, hoping he was okay. 

Toph looked like she might be about to fire off an ill-advised retort, but Aang quickly grabbed her by the hand and set off down the deserted street. “Let’s go somewhere else,” he said. “We shouldn’t interrupt her.”

“So, this bending stuff,” Adrien started, not being able to wait any longer for an excuse to try it. “Can I—I mean, this body—do it?”

Aang’s swift pace faltered a little at this. “Uh… yeah. Zuko, he’s the one you’re… possessing, and he’s a firebender.”

“So, I can bend fire?” Adrien asked, for their sake, but he had already stopped walking, settling into what he hoped was a strong stance and opening up his palm.

Firebending comes from the breath, the characters of Avatar had always said. Adrien took a deep breath in, picturing a tiny flame in his hand, and exhaled. 

His palm ignited. “Whoa!” He stumbled back slightly, mostly just in awe and shock that it had worked.

“Uh, yeah, like that,” Aang said. “How’d you…?”

“Maybe, since this body already knows what it’s doing, it came more easily,” Adrien shrugged, not able to tear his eyes away from his hands. Dieu, he might have magical powers in his own universe, but that didn’t mean it ever got old. Breathing in again, Adrien tried once more, hoping to give the flame a little less juice this time. It took a couple tries, but finally, he could sustain a tiny little flame, in the palm of his own hand. It was an amazing, alive little thing. A heartbeat, indeed. “Cool,” Adrien breathed.

“I guess so,” Aang said, sounding reluctant. Adrien supposed he still had reservations about fire after burning Katara that one time in Season One. “Hey, want to see something else that’s cool?”

Adrien looked up just in time to see Aang’s infamous marble trick. He smiled. “That’s great, Aang.”

“Hey Twinkletoes,” Toph cut in. “You want to show Smiley a real Earth Rumble?” She stomped, and the street trembled, dust shaking from the crumbling houses.

“Um…” Aang seemed to deflate a little. “Maybe later, Toph. I think we should start finding supplies to stay the night.” Aang lifted his hand to rub his eyes. Adrien was suddenly reminded that, at this moment, the Gaang hadn’t gotten any sleep all night.

“You guys go ahead. I won’t go anywhere,” Adrien smiled, in his most trustworthy manner.

Aang eyed him. Adrien got the feeling that his Charming Smile™ had been disrupted by the fact that he was wearing Zuko’s face.

“Toph, do you mind watching him?”

Toph blew her bangs away from her face. “No problem.”

Aang nodded, his eyes never leaving Adrien. “Thanks.” He walked backwards for a few steps, then jogged off in the direction of one of the houses that wasn’t on fire, presumably because it had a better chance of containing useful items.

“Whew,” Toph said, even before Adrien was certain Aang was out of earshot. “I’ve never seen Twinkletoes be this much of a killjoy.”

Adrien winced. He’d forgotten how tactless Toph was at the beginning. “I, uh, I’m not offended. To be fair, this… situation is a lot.” Not to mention the situation they’d just gotten out of, which Adrien was pretending not to know about.

“Eh,” Toph grunted noncommittally, kicking at the dirt. And because it was Toph, Greatest Earthbender in the World, said kick produced an improbably large rut of displaced rock and dirt, fortunately pointed away from Adrien.

Deciding it wasn’t his place to probe further, Adrien turned back to his firebending attempts. Holding out both his hands, he attempted to summon flame to each simultaneously this time. To his satisfaction, it worked.

“You seem pretty fascinated by that stuff,” Toph’s voice cut in.

Adrien’s flames flickered out. “I, uh, yeah, I guess so,” he laughed nervously. “It’s cool.”

Though Toph’s eyes weren’t on him directly, he had the feeling, from her posture, that she was studying him. “I guess, if you didn’t have the same experience with fire, you would think that way. ‘Course, I’m one to talk.” She shifted her body in the direction Aang had gone. “They’ve had it worse.”

Adrien didn’t know how to respond to that. He couldn’t tell her he understood, because not only would it be strange if he let slip now that he already knew about the Fire Nation, but also because he hadn’t truly experienced anything like it himself. But playing dumb and pressing the issue also felt wrong. He settled for mumbling “Aah, sorry,” in a rather awkward fashion, lowering his hands.

“Nah, keep at it. It’s kind of… nice that you’re excited.”

“Oh…okay.” Adrien lifted his hands slowly and reignited his palms. He glanced sidelong at Toph, but she didn’t react. Soon, he lost himself in the calming rhythm of the little heartbeats. 

Adrien didn’t know how long it was before there was a shout behind them, spoiling his concentration. With a sputter, his flames snuffed out.

Aang came sprinting out of a house, a bundle of cloth in his arms fluttering to the ground. “Katara?” he cried.

Adrien didn’t like the foreboding feeling in his stomach this gave him. 

Together with Toph, the three ran back to the end of the street. As they drew closer, they met Sokka, coming from the opposite direction.

“What did you do to my sister?” Sokka shouted, pointing an accusing finger at Adrien.

“He wasn’t anywhere near her,” Toph drawled.

Aang had already reached Katara. She was slumped over Iroh’s form, as unconscious as the old man was. Adrien watched as Aang shook her, abandoning any attempt to be gentle the more times he tried. “Katara? Katara!”

Yes, Adrien had a very bad feeling indeed.

Sokka reached her side and lay an ear on her chest, listening for a heartbeat. “She’s alive, at least,” he said. “No thanks to this guy.”

“Give it a rest. Maybe she passed out from that night we all had,” Toph groused. 

“Well, I don’t see you being tired. Take a nice nap during all that time you spent away from us, did you—”

Then, Katara gave a moan, and her eyes fluttered open. “Katara!” Aang cried.

“Katara?” the girl who was decidedly not Katara anymore murmured. She glanced at Aang, then Sokka and Toph, then over to Adrien himself. “Oh, no.”

“Hi, Ladybug,” Adrien waved, with an apologetic cringe.

Chapter Text

As soon as she got out of freefall, this was what Katara felt:

The whooshing of wind past her ears. Arms wrapped around her, tight enough to be uncomfortable. Her legs, dangling helplessly through the air. 

Katara bucked as her eyes shot open. A masculine grunt rumbled next to her, but the grip around her middle simply tightened. Jumbled glimpses of air and black leather filled her field of vision. 

Nothing was processing. What was—spirits,  what—

Then a frantic, high-pitched beeping noise sounded right next to her ears, and Katara jolted.

Instinctively, Katara flailed her limbs once more, and the masculine voice—the one, she now was beginning to guess, that must belong to the person carrying her—cursed, and—

Katara was in freefall for the second time in under a minute. Which, unlike Aang, was not how she preferred to spend her time.

Her heart barely had enough time to stutter before impact hit, and Katara grunted as her breath whooshed out of her. She rolled onto her side, coughing. 

“Come on,” the voice from before groaned. “Get up, we have to get out of here.”

We? I don’t even know who you are.

Lifting herself up upon her hands, Katara glanced up at him.

It was a fairly strange sight. For one, Katara didn’t know hair came in that color. It was almost gold, like straw. But really, Katara mused, almost self-scolding, that shouldn’t have been the first thing she noticed, since he was… dressed like a cat? Not even a mouse-cat or an armadillo-cat, just… a cat, a black one, with ears and a tail and eyes—how were they like that? They were all… glowy green, and they had very not-human sclera. And they were narrowed at her. 

…A spirit?

Blinking up at him, Katara almost didn’t notice the hand reaching roughly for her until it was too late. She smacked it aside, upon instinct, and then paled. Spirit, Katara! Spirit!

She hastily withdrew her hand and sat upright, leaning uncomfortably backwards. “Ah, uh, my apologies, spirit! Please excuse my—“

“I’m not a spirit,” he grumbled. He grabbed at her again, successfully this time, pulling her to her feet in one unceremonious motion. Katara barely had the chance to get her (rather clumsy, not-fully-working-for-her) legs beneath her before he—the apparent not-a-spirit?—was dragging her onward at a startling pace. Katara understood the atmosphere of urgency a little better after a shuddering crack sounded behind them, and the sound of people running and screaming followed. Katara whipped her head around in sudden horror. Far down an apparent city street—not a kind of street she’d ever seen, with its peculiar buildings—there was indeed some sort of chaos causing people to run every which way. Katara felt a foggy itch to help them in the back of her mind, but it would be hard to do so when she had no idea where she even was or what was happening or who—

“Come on,” her—rescuer? Kidnapper? barked. He yanked on her arm. 

Katara bristled instinctively at the tone. She almost wanted to plant her feet right there, as in, we are going nowhere until you tell me something—but held her tongue, recalling the image of his eerie, inhuman eyes.

“What are you, if you’re not a spirit?” She asked. Her voice came out a little soft, trepidatious.

“Human, apparently,” was the reply.

Apparently?

“What!... uh, what do you mean by that?”

From behind him, Katara could see him lift a hand up to his face, perhaps to pinch the bridge of his nose. “There’s not enough time. Just follow me.”

“Follow you where?”

“Somewhere safer, in case you didn’t notice all the very obvious screaming. ”

Katara felt the beginnings of a scowl overtake her features. “And how am I supposed to know I’ll be safe with you? ”

The boy… cat-boy?… muttered something like “spirits, give me strength.” 

Okay then, this one could use some manners.

They lapsed into silence as they continued to plod awkwardly along the cobblestone streets. Katara took the opportunity to think. She’d been tending to Prince Angry Jerk’s uncle not one minute ago, and then suddenly, there was that terrible plummet through glittery nothing-space and then she woke up… wherever this was. 

…yeah, still absolutely nonsensical. 

Just like the idea of a boy from another universe taking over Zuko’s body?

A crazy thought hit Katara, and she stopped in her tracks, pulling to free herself from the cat boy’s grip. She glanced frantically down upon herself. Her whole body appeared to be covered in a strange, tough-yet-flexible  material, painted in red and black spots. Even her hands were covered. She wondered as she rotated her arms back and forth, marveling at the strange way the material sat on her skin. She wiggled her fingers. No, it wasn’t just how the fabric felt that was weird. It was—it was her body itself that felt weird. 

What if… what had happened to Zuko happened to her? What if she was in a stranger’s body, in… in what Adrien, the boy they’d met in Zuko’s body, had called a completely different universe? 

“Hey,” Cat Boy snapped, snatching at her hand once more. Katara spun to evade him. 

“No,” Katara shot back. “You’re going to tell me what’s going on, properly , before I go anywhere with you. And you’re going to… uh, you’ll tell me who the owner of this body is. Please.”

Katara didn’t know what kind of response she was expecting from Cat Boy at that sort of wild statement, but it wasn’t just a simple, “No.” And with that, he turned and kept walking. 

Katara stayed still, unsure whether to be offended or baffled. Was body-switching somehow… normal in this world? 

The strange beeping sound next to her ears started again, and Katara jumped, looking around in vain for its source. Was that supposed to be normal, too?

After a few paces, Cat Boy seemed to realize she wasn’t following and spun on his heel to face her. His face screwed into a deeper scowl, and he seemed just about to spit out something even more impolite, when a new figure came streaking in out of nowhere. 

“Oh, thank God, I couldn’t find you for a second there,” she said in between breaths. Katara studied her. Another human girl, it seemed? At least, this one didn’t have weird eyes, so she didn’t look inhuman. Katara would still have to be prepared.

The girl turned to look Katara in the eyes. “Oh, sorry! Where are my manners?” She extended a hand toward Katara. “I’m Alya. Nice to meet you…?”

Blinking, Katara took the proffered hand and shook it slowly. “Katara. Likewise.”

The cat boy made a choking sound, and the two girls turned as one to stare at him. 

“Ohhhh boy,” Alya muttered. 

“I have to work with you?” Cat Boy glared. 

Katara had never felt so offended, or confused, in her life. “ Excuse me?”

“Zuko—“ Alya sighed. 

Now Katara was the one choking on air. Zuko?! 

Oh….right. Adrien had been in Zuko’s body. He’d even said Zuko would now be in his body, in his universe. Katara should have known. Zuko had just been switched first. And it was just Katara’s luck that she’d get switched, too, and get stuck with him. 

Katara realized, after a few moments, she must have zoned out. When she tuned back in, Alya seemed to be in the middle of chewing Zuko out. “You really should be kinder, you know?” she chided. Katara coughed out a manic half-laugh.

“Wow, the girl met you, what, two minutes ago, and she already knows you perfectly,” Katara said. “Well, don’t stop on my account. Thanks for getting me to safety. I’ll take it from here.”

“Whoa, uh, not so fast there,” Alya jutted in before Katara could make an exit, a somewhat apologetic grimace on her face. “We’re going to need your help.”

“We?” Katara glowered in Zuko’s direction. Zuko’s own glower, strange as it was to see it on a different face, was still very clearly Zuko’s glower, and it was directed back at her. She tore her gaze away. “First of all, you don’t want anything to do with him, trust me. Second of all, I just met you a second ago. I don’t know you, and no one will tell me where I even am, so why would I do anything to help you?”

Alya took a step back, holding her hands up in a placating gesture. As she did so, she shot Zuko a disapproving glare. “You didn’t tell her anything at all?”

Zuko didn’t respond, his arms folded.

Alya turned back to Katara. “You’ve been switched into the body of the heroine in charge of getting you home,” she said. “Ladybug. Her power is the only thing that can defeat the villain that brought you here and enact the cure to switch you back.”

Katara blinked at this new information. So, saving the day? Well, honestly, that wasn’t really anything new for her. Except—

“If I’m the only one who has the power to defeat this villain, what’s he got to do with anything?” Katara jerked her thumb over at Prince Sulky.

“Chat Noir is Ladybug’s partner,” Alya explained. “His power of bad luck and destruction balances hers of good luck and creation.”

Katara pondered that for a moment. She allowed her gaze to drift to Zuko. Bad luck and destruction? She almost snorted at how well that suited him, though he looked clearly uncomfortable in the stupid cat suit. Katara supposed Adrien, with his somewhat Aang-like goofy optimism, seemed like he really would fit that suit better. Zuko’s glower, however, remained steadfast. She rolled her eyes in response. “So,” she said to Alya, “I don’t really need him. Just tell me what to do.”

Alya huffed. “It doesn’t work like that.” She put her hands on her hips. “Look, I know you have bad blood between you, but you’re being incredibly immature. You have to be able to put that behind you long enough to just defeat the damn akuma and go home .”

Katara personally thought Alya was being rather presumptive, considering she’d just met them, but she could choose priorities. Namely: “You’re asking me to trust a villain who burns down villages .” 

“I’m not a villain, peasant ,” Zuko snapped.

“That doesn’t matter,” Alya shot back. “You still have the responsibility to—” Her eyes widened, as if in realization. “Wait, you can just give the earrings to me, for the time being. That’ll solve our problems. I know how they work better than you, at any rate.”

“Earrings?”

“They’re called a miraculous, and it’s what gives Ladybug her power. Just—hand me the earrings, and I’ll be able to take care of it so you don’t have to.”

Katara’s mind whirled from all the new information. The out Alya was offering did sound preferable, if she were to be honest, but she didn’t know how she felt about leaving her hopes of getting home to someone else.

“No,” Zuko suddenly interjected, surprising her. He came in closer, glower leveled this time at Alya. “I don’t know if I can trust you.”

“Zuko,” Alya started with an air of patience, “I’m Ladybug’s best friend. We’ve worked together for a long time. Yes, you can trust me.”

“You’re an unknown variable. I don’t think I can.”

“What, and you can trust me? ” Katara put in, incredulous. 

“No!” Zuko snapped.

“Then why would you prefer that I do it, compared to the one who knows what’s actually going on ?”

Zuko glanced at Alya for a moment; or, more accurately, gave her a truly impressive side-eye. “She knows too much.”

“What do you mean, knows too much—”

Before Katara could a reply on that baffling statement, there was a sudden burst of light, shooting like an arrow through the sky. It impacted the roof above a shop situated to their left with a crash. Dust began to rain down upon the street below.

“She’s here! Run!” Alya yelled, and Katara didn’t need to be told twice. More eerie beams of golden light pelted the street. One she only missed by a hair, jerking her head out of the way just in time. Her next dodging motion, however, was less successful, “Ladybug”’s body moving much faster, and farther, than Katara had intended. Katara’s heart leapt into her throat as she overbalanced and hit the cobblestones face-first.

The beeping noise chose this time to sound again, as if panicking along with her.

“Ladybug!” Alya’s voice called. “You have to get out of Hawkmoth’s sight before you detransform!”

“Now I get why good ol’ Hawky wanted me to shoot you,” a woman’s voice crooned behind them, and Katara felt the hairs rise on the back of her neck. She scrambled to her feet and saw—

—a woman, covered in head-to-toe gold, from her clothes, to her skin, to her eyes. If Zuko’s new cat look had been strange and eerie, it was nothing compared to her. This was the undeniable air of someone with evil intent, of a true villain. Katara’s palms opened at her sides, reaching instinctively for water to bend, to call it to her—

— “They don’t have bending here,” Zuko grunted, suddenly appearing at her side. 

No bending? No… surely—

Katara stubbornly twitched her fingers once more, extending her senses. Or, she tried to extend her senses. Where previously, there had always been something there, in the back of her mind, the pulsing sensation of every drop of water in her vicinity, there was… nothing.

The world seemed to freeze.

Katara was, truth be told, unsurprised, like she’d intrinsically felt the difference in this body but hadn’t wanted to admit it to herself. But she couldn’t ignore it now, face to face with an enemy she was supposed to fight… how? Without her bending, she felt stripped. Bereft. Impotent. Her feet rooted themselves to the ground, refusing to move.

Katara didn’t know how else to fight.

The woman continued to advance, walking slowly, predator stalking prey. “It’ll be so much easier to take your earrings now that Ladybug’s been replaced,” she laughed.

The breath left Katara’s lungs at the truth of this statement. The villain drew closer. In her hands, a ball of golden light hummed as it grew larger, sure to be aimed right at her— 

Just then, Cat Boy-Zuko leapt between them, and the blast of light hit him, point blank, in the chest. Katara let out a muffled cry in spite of herself, but—but nothing happened. Without missing a beat, Zuko had smacked the villain lady in the head with a baton. As the two began to fight hand-to-hand, finally, Katara seemed to regain the ability to move her feet. Beginning to back away, she was soon joined by Zuko, who had managed to cause the villain to hurtle backwards through the air. The villain landed against a building with a crash.

“We need to find somewhere to hide,” Zuko said as they broke into a run. Katara distantly registered that perhaps Alya should be with them, but she was nowhere in sight, the area where she'd hid now blocked off by fallen debris.

“How did you throw her that far?” Katara murmured absently.

“These bodies have magically enhanced strength—haven’t you felt it?”

“Mm,” Katara said. 

“…Katara?”

The world was starting to feel like a stage play, a scene boxed neatly into a stage, and Katara was the spectator. He’s never called me by my actual name, a voice in the back of Katara’s mind said.

“Mm,” Katara said. 

“Ugh! Listen, you’re about to run out of time to be transformed or whatever, so would you just—” Zuko made a noise of frustration. He yanked her wrist roughly to the side. Katara thought perhaps she should be mad about this. She did nothing to stop it. They ran past rows of shops and into an alley, where finally, Zuko saw fit to stop. Katara slumped to the wall as he deposited her behind a large metal container that reeked something awful.

“Where’s Alya,” Katara murmured.

“Like I said, I don’t trust her,” Zuko grumbled. 

“So you have to be the one to tell me what’s going on, then,” Katara replied softly.

Zuko glowered. “Would you stop that?”

Katara tilted her head. “Stop what?”

“Stop—being so—” Zuko waved his hands wildly. “What is this ?”

“What’s what.”

“What’s— for Agni’s sake, peasant, have you gone soft in the head? Why didn’t you fight? ”

The beeping noise happened again, and suddenly, it felt as though half the energy drained out of Katara in one whoosh. Vaguely, she noticed her spotted suit melting away, replacing itself with colorful, less-tight clothing. Pink sparkles and light coalesced upon themselves, until they had formed a—red blob. A red blob with eyes. It fell neatly into Katara’s lap.

Then it moved. And spoke.

“M-Marinette?” said the tiniest, squeakiest voice Katara had ever heard. The blob’s eyes moved as it floated—legitimately, floated—around. It seemed to freeze as it noticed Zuko. “ Chat Noir?”

Zuko, for his part, was staring rigidly at it, eyes wide. “Are—are you a spirit?”

The blob seemed to frown. “No, I’m a kwami. You—oh,” it gasped. “You’ve been hit by the akuma!” The blob—kwami—turned back to Katara. “Marinette—”

Something in Katara’s expression must have clued it in to the fact that Katara was not " Marinette," because it gave a little “oh,” of dismay, tiny hands flying up to cover its mouth. “Oh no, this is a disaster.”

***

It turned out that Tikki, the so-called kwami, was a far better source of information than Zuko could ever have been. Sure, Katara’s head also felt like it was going to explode, but if “purifying the akuma” was the only way to defeat the villain and go home, she was determined to remember how to do it. 

Zuko, for his part, had taken to pacing the alley in his typical surly manner. Normally, Katara would have snapped at him to stop, but her mind was still swirling too fast for her to care, the world still feeling too dull, too distant. 

“Are you okay, Katara?” Tikki asked presently.

Katara couldn’t help but smile as she turned to look at Tikki. She was grateful for the tiny being, as she’d only ever tried to be nice. “Thank you for asking,” Katara said. “I…”

Where to even start? Katara was farther out of her depth than she’d ever been, and her only hope was to work with Prince Zuko. She’d only just been able to learn, at long last, how to control and channel her waterbending, how to fight, and now it had all been taken from her. There was a constant wrong ness in her senses, a void where there once was the calming presence of water all around—in her veins, in the air, in the waterskins at her side. She couldn’t feel water anymore. 

She couldn’t feel herself anymore.

Katara didn’t realize she was crying until Tikki flew in closer, wiping away a tear with her tiny hand. “Oh, poor dear,” Tikki said. “I’m sorry.”

Katara sniffled and wiped at her nose with her hand—Sokka wasn’t there to call her a hypocrite for doing exactly what she often scolded him for. “I don’t know how to fight this way, Tikki,” she whispered. 

“That’s what I’m here for, Katara,” Tikki replied. “When you call upon me to transform you, my power becomes your power. You won’t be as alone as you think.”

Katara leaned into the tiny creature, and they stayed there,  hugging, as Katara let her tears run their course.

For a minute, it was almost peaceful. 

And then, there was a groan, and Katara jerked her head upward. Zuko—er, Zuko-as-Chat-Noir—had thrown his head back and was rubbing his face with his hands. 

Katara’s eyes narrowed, even as her body shuddered with the force of another sob. “Got something to say to me?” she said, her tone with an edge of warning to it.

“No,” he groused, in a way that definitely meant yes.

Katara straightened her spine. She was not going to fall for his bait. She was going to be the bigger person, even through her tears. “You know, there’s a lot that can be fixed by a good cry. You should try it sometime.”

“No thanks.”

Katara rolled her shoulders back. “Nothing good comes of keeping your emotions locked down inside of you,” she said, fighting to keep her tone even. “Gran-Gran used to always say that feelings are like waterfalls. If you dam them up at the source for too long, the waterfall seems to stop, but really, it’s only a matter of time before it explodes . Then, it goes back to falling, because the waterfall is simply the natural order of things.”

Zuko took a couple more shuffling steps, but then ceased his pacing. He was quiet for a moment. “Sounds like your Gran-Gran would get along with my uncle.”

Startled by his sudden… agreeableness, Katara searched his figure. His back was to her, so she couldn’t see his face, but he had gone very still.

And then he turned to her. “Is my… was my uncle okay, when you left?” His eyes… something about them arrested her. Even on someone else’s face, even in that shocking green color, Zuko’s eyes were more vulnerable than she’d ever seen them, almost pleading. Katara was hit with a certainty, if she didn’t already know it, that Prince Zuko truly, deeply cared for his uncle.

Katara looked down, suddenly unable to meet his gaze. “He’s going to make it,” she said. “The wound looks bad, and it’ll take a while to heal, but it didn’t reach the chi pathways to his heart.”

Zuko literally sagged with relief. “That’s good,” he said. He turned back away from her to face the opposite brick wall of the alleyway.

Katara wiped away a straggling tear and leaned her head back against her own brick wall. It was… almost disconcerting to see Zuko like this—not as the representative of the Fire Nation’s evil, like he’d always been in her mind, but as a nephew, worried for his uncle. He was about Sokka’s age, Katara realized—though, perhaps, she already knew this, but she had yet to really know it until now. Zuko was a teenager, with a family, like the rest of them. 

But that family… 

The thought made Katara realize something. “You called that girl back there your sister,” she started slowly. Zuko immediately stiffened. “If your uncle is her uncle too, why did she…”

Zuko whirled on her. “Do not speak of things you don’t understand, peasant, ” he hissed. Clearly, his moment of agreeableness was over.

Katara felt her hackles raise at this. “Then help me understand, Mr. Oh-So-Princely—”

Just then, Tikki flew between the two of them, arms raised in a placating gesture. “Zuko! Katara! If I may—Ladybug and Chat Noir have a job to do! We must not let our time go to waste!”

For a tense moment, Katara and Zuko remained glaring at each other, chests heaving in angry breaths. She watched Zuko clench and unclench his fists. Then, Katara spun on her heel and began marching, as though she knew where she was going, down the alley. “Sure. Let’s go.”