Chapter Text
Her consciousness slips through the fog in her mind, the blurry haze in her vision uncurdling and unfurling into a view of the night sky.
It's beautiful, in the way most mundane things often are – integral, yet bland. The shine of the galaxy of stars imprints itself upon her – the light passing her corneas, then retinas; only to imbed itself permanently upon her brain, the obscurity curated by pollution making the sight a rarity.
She thought she was dead.
A ragged gasp tears through her throat, almost animalistic in its desperation, her body working more than her mind – seizing the opportunity of one more breath and utilizing it.
The distant sound of cicadas and crickets clears its way through the cloud of jumble, her brain opting for a moment of simplicity over confusion. A metallic tinge perforates the air, weighing it down, the pressure amplifying itself – so much so that she tastes it on her tongue.
And then arrive the memories—
Playing on the swing, in the middle of the winter, when – “Nobara!”
Eating macarons with Saori, warm and–
Embedding nails in her skin in case of an emergency–
Getting accepted, planning for Tokyo–
Dark, dark, dark. How could she be so stupid?
An intense light coming, she tries to enforce her body with all the remaining energy–
She fails.
The information brutalizes itself into her memories – (no, not her) – filling up every crevice, coiling or distorting or cornering itself; doing anything to find a shelter, even if the way led to self mutilation – uncaring in its desperation, leaving no cranny untouched.
She gives it time to clear out, closing her eyelids and trying her best to block the attention on all the smells and sounds, just focusing on the overwhelming amount of data; so sudden and so jarring, it can easily pave the way to a migraine.
Only, it doesn't.
She crystals through her path, transfixed on the numbness it provides, traversing through it all instinctively, slowly setting a rhythm and gulping large breaths with each clearance.
Opening her eyes, she registers everything around her – the dark, the isolated area, the sharp whistling of wind, and the forlorn quiet of the forest around her.
Though still in a daze, her thoughts are clear enough to register the pain travelling through her body, denser at various locations on her limbs. The dust picked up by the air is latching itself on the sclera of her eyes, the tears coming to her rescue being the only factor preventing its anchoring. Her eyes burn badly; the localised pain acts more as a nuisance though. It's nothing compared to the pain in her limbs– so intense and suffocating that she is apprehensive to move, no matter how uncomfortable this place feels.
But she needs to move – to figure out whatever the fuck is happening, after she makes it out of this hellhole in the middle of nowhere and trenches her way out.
She wants to go home.
And so she tries, but the moment her joints move, a sharp sensation travels up her arms, the scorching heat of the pain blinding her vision white.
Fuck. She can't.
What the hell is she supposed to do now!?
Her mind is lucid now, especially with the pain grounding her unexpectedly– an appreciated support, truly. (She didn't sound masochistic saying that, right?)
She can feel it better now – three of her limbs have been incapacitated in some way, unable to move, with only her left foot retaining a miniscule amount of motility. Something congealed rests atop it, wet and solid at various different points simultaneously; crunching and flaking as she moves, but not dry enough to scatter away. She is sure that it's blood, coating so much of her body that her skin is barely visible beneath its coat. Or that's what she is able to gather anyway, with her head barely propped up against the ground at an unnatural angle.
Blood – her blood – coats the soil around her and the accelerated beating of her heart tugs at her, the sensation sinking her further into the dirt.
The pull at her scatters itself into minute tingles, enveloping more and more and more of her flesh– then muscles– then bones– until nothing but a low steady hum remains. It submerges her entirely, but she feels entirely at peace with the drowning.
The humming amplifies into itself, being reshaped into a discordant cacophony: different and wrong – until it gradually fades away, the energy now engulfing her wounds.
And strangely enough – she knows what to do.
She wrenches the energy – all taut and tense in its maneuvering – hauling it, resonating it to match her own frequency.
Even more peculiar – it works.
The mangled skin and muscles stitch themselves back together, an unfamiliar warmth encasing them; flaying them open– only to heal it all later. The broken joints (she didn't even realise they were shattered) rearranging themselves.
And now, she can't believe what she witnesses – an impossible, improbable thing.
She is able to observe her soul.
It feels like… nothing.
No vague substance outlining her body, no sphere of luminescent energy in the middle of her heart.
Just… nothing.
It is no more than an insignificant space of the universe projecting her consciousness into reality – a molecule of water in an ocean having its own life. Nothing valuable in its form, only made precious through existence; bearing – withholding – all the power she gave or took.
And currently, said power had managed in healing all the injuries and successfully rewriting her back into this life.
She just had to figure out what to do with it.