Chapter Text
Caroline’s fingers hovered over the scalpel, precise and controlled, as if the instrument was an extension of her own body. The heart lay exposed before her, pumping steadily, a chaotic rhythm of life she had learned to read and respect. Every beat sent a thrill through her chest—life and death dancing at her fingertips. Her team in the operating room moved around her in a practiced blur, calling out vitals, instruments, and subtle warnings.
Even as her hands worked with the precision of years of training, a faint distraction tugged at her mind. A simple misstep, a distracted glance at the monitor, a fleeting thought of exhaustion—any of it could be fatal. And then it happened. A sudden crash from the supply cart knocked over a tray, sending instruments flying across the room. Caroline reacted instinctively, but it was too late. One of the broken instruments bounced unpredictably, striking her temple. Her vision blurred, sound muffled to a distant echo, and the rhythmic beat of the heart before her slowed in her perception.
The last thing she felt was the cold steel of the floor rushing up to meet her. Pain, sharp and immediate, consumed her senses. And then nothing—darkness swallowed her whole, like falling through the bottom of the ocean.
Her body tumbled backward, pain slicing through her skull. Darkness swallowed her whole, and for a moment, she was weightless, floating in a void. Then came pressure, warmth, and a slow, relentless movement, as if she were being guided through a narrow tunnel of light. It was disorienting and frightening, yet curiously familiar. The sensation reminded her of something buried deep in her memory—a dream she had once had of a mother’s embrace. And then she felt it: the final push, the tightening, the inexorable pull toward the unknown. Her consciousness strained, then fractured, and a strange clarity pierced through the chaos. Caroline’s mind, tethered to her previous life, felt every second of it—the loss, the surrender, the inevitability of letting go.
A sudden rush of sound, of life, filled her senses. Her body, small, warm, and new, was thrust into existence. Air filled her lungs with a burning sweetness; she gasped, tasting the world for the first time. Light pressed against her eyes, vibrant and overwhelming, and her limbs moved before she could think. She cried, instinctively, a raw, pure sound of arrival, as if every cell of her being had remembered what it meant to live.
From above, hands reached for her, strong and tender. She felt a firm grasp around her tiny form, a warm presence guiding her. The voice came, low and soft, vibrating with awe and care. “Welcome, Nagisa,” it whispered. “You’re finally here.”