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Dr. Shinobu Kochou had always wanted to be a surgeon. All her life.
Well, not exactly all her life. More like from the moment she picked up her first Doctor Strange comic and decided, that she too would cut people’s brains open and save the world.
Silly or not, her brain was smart enough to keep up with it. Now she had a residency she actually liked, a hospital only a couple miles from her apartment, and an electric car whose glossy polish she absolutely did not get done for the sole purpose of showing off to her sister Kanae.
She finally had her life together—so of course the universe had to ruin it.
Never in a million years did she want to be in an isekai. Those people typically had no life, were depressed, or just... hermits. She was none of them.
But then she noticed the bump. Then the fire.
She could see it. Her life flashing back. She must’ve read too much manga and light novels because she could also see isekai options when her memories failed her. She heard metal shrieking, glass breaking. Shinobu inhaled short panicked breath as her doctor’s coat was cut and burnt, the seatbelt was holding back her ribs. The airbag burst open with a violent pop, cushioning her chest before her spine cracked. The smell of gasoline and burning plastic started filling her lungs.
She tried to hold her breath. Then everything went dark.
When she opened her eyes, she was sure it was a dream. Because she wasn’t in a modern hospital.
She was lying on a wooden bed. No IV drip hung beside her—Oh there was an IV drip actually. But not her IV drip.
An old type of glass bottle, not the usual kind, hung from what looked like a bent iron hook nailed directly into the wall. A thin rubber tube snaked downward, taped to the back of her hand with rough cloth instead of sterile medical tape. No roller clamp. No drip chamber.
The rest of the room wasn’t any better.
The nurse was wearing a crisp white apron, instead of proper nurse uniforms. Judging from the apron, she could probably be saved by an Amish community. But they were speaking in Japanese… so she’d stick with dreams or isekai.
A gentle tap landed on Shinobu’s shoulder.
Before Shinobu could process it, someone appeared behind her shoulder. It was a man around her age? If anyone bothered to drag him under proper lighting and force a color test on him, he'd undeniably fall under Dark Winter. Cool-toned skin with a subtle contrast, dark short hair and blue eyes? Dark Winter for sure. She knew because she was also a Dark Winter. She too had cool-toned skin and dark short hair, the only difference was she had violet fringes and eyes instead of blue ones.
But the man was wearing red, yellow and green. That mismatched haori was Dark Autumn. He did not look his best in Dark Autumn.
Wait, why was she even thinking about this? The man probably saved her life. She should thank him.
“Did you save me?” Shinobu asked, bowing slightly. “Thank you.”
“You even sound like her…” he whispered, staring at her as if she were a ghost.
“Who?”
“You look like someone I knew.” His expression tightened. “But… older.”
Shinobu froze, her smile twitching. “Well, that’s not very nice to say to a lady you just met.”
“And you smile like her too,” he continued, completely unfazed. “Except you have those little wrinkles on your forehead. She didn’t have those—”
“Okay!” She clapped her hands together sharply. “If your ex-girlfriend or first love or whatever tragic figure dumped you and I happen to look like her, please don’t trauma dump on me. I just cheated death.”
“Sorry, I’m Giyu Tomioka, I just saw you wounded after a car hit you—”
“There are cars?” Shinobu’s violet eyes widened. “Great. Perfect. Can you give me a ride to work? I’m a resident—”
“I don’t have a car,” he said plainly.
“Get me a cab then?”
“Cab?”
“Taxi.”
He hesitated. “Taxis are rather pricey. We could walk. Or take the tram. But you really should rest first…”
“Right,” she muttered, already patting the pockets of her worn out doctor’s coat. She searched the inner lining, the chest pocket, even the hem.
Empty. Everything was gone.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Do you have a phone I can borrow?” she said, forcing herself to stay calm. “I need to call my hospital—”
Giyu blinked. “A… phone?”
“Yes, a phone.”
“We can send a telegram,” he offered gently. “Or I can use my crow.”
She stared at him. Hard.
A crow.
She blinked once. Twice. Tilted her head like her brain had overheated.
“What city is this?” she asked the stranger, “and what year is this?”
Giyu answered without hesitation. “Tokyo, 1923.”
Shinobu slowly moved her head, taking in the lanterns hanging from ceiling beams, wooden floor that was not anti-bacterial approved and not to mention the IV drip—
“Is this an isekai?” she muttered to herself, “or time travel?”
“What is an isekai?” He asked her, dead serious.
“It’s not important right now, I just… need to sleep again and then when I wake up, I’ll be in my world again.”
“You’re from a different world?”
Shinobu instinctively reached for something—anything—that proved she wasn’t insane. And her fingers brushed against the lanyard around her neck.
Her hospital ID badge.
She yanked it up and waved it at him, he was still dumbfounded, and she noticed the problem.
The entire thing was printed in English, not a single kanji there. Her full name, her title, her hospital—every part of it. He stared at the badge like it was a shiny Pokemon.
“You see this?” she demanded. “Shinobu Kochou. Resident surgeon—”
Giyu’s eyes widened.
“Your name is… Shinobu Kochou?”
She blinked. “Well, yeah. That’s me.”
He stared at her, clearly shaken, she could swear he almost trembled. “That’s her name too.”
Her grip tightened on her badge. “Your ex?”
Giyu shook his head once. “Shinobu Kochou is a woman I knew.”
He looked at her again—really looked, as if comparing every detail. “But you’re… older.”
“Stop saying that, will you? Tomioka-san.” Shinobu forced another polite smile at her savior.
He stiffened. “Say that again.”
“…Huh?”
“My name,” Giyu said quietly. “Say it again.”
“Tomioka-san?” she repeated, confused.
His blue eyes softened. “You sounded just like her.”
Then, almost hesitantly he asked her, “Can you… say tsun tsun?”
She stared at him, horrified. “What kind of weird fetish is that? No!”
“Sorry…”
“I’m going to sleep now, maybe I’ll return back to my world when I wake up…”
Then she closed her eyes and slept.
When she opened her eyes again, the first thing she saw was Tomioka—asleep at her bedside, his head resting near her knees. The window had been left open this time, the curtains pulled aside, revealing a snowy night with a starry sky she had never seen back in the city.
Her gaze drifted to the IV drip beside her.
The glass bottle had been replaced—the condensation still fresh on its surface, rubber tubing neatly reapplied, a new cloth strip tied over the needle on her hand. Someone had changed it not long ago.
Shinobu felt… lighter.
Then, suddenly a woman in a white apron and short blue hair wrapped her arms around Shinobu before she could react, face pressed against her doctor’s coat as tears soaked the fabric.
“I—I thought you’d died…” the woman choked, her voice cracking as she held tighter. “Kanao is on her way with her husband. She wanted to see you with her own eye, she blinded one eye, but her other eye is still functioning.”
Shinobu could only blink, stunned. Whoever this Shinobu Kochou was in 1923, she must be an important person. The Tomioka guy never mentioned she died, but maybe she did die… Judging from how the woman in her arms kept crying harder and harder.
“I can’t believe we found you on the last day of Tomioka-san’s life.”
“Last day?”
“The Mark.” Her voice softened. “Marked Slayers don’t live past twenty five. Shinazugawa-san… he was the first to go not even on his birthday, it was on New Year’s day. So everyone believed Tomioka-san would die tomorrow.”
“What kind of illness is that?” Shinobu asked, frowning.
“You didn’t remember?” she said, her voice low. “It’s the Demon Slayer Mark. Did you forget everything? Your Hashira days?”
She shook her head.
“It’s me Aoi,” she cried again, “You don’t remember me either?”
Then the door slammed open.
Another woman appeared—black long hair flowing, eyes mismatched, and without hesitation, she ran straight to Shinobu and wrapped her in a tight hug.
Beside her stood a man with auburn hair, a striking mark ran across his forehead, pulsing faintly in the lamplight.
Shinobu’s violet eyes widened. Was that… the Mark?
“Look, I’m sorry, but I’m not the Shinobu Kochou you guys know,” she said gently, stepping back and letting go of their embraces.
The man with auburn hair looked at her like a man begging for his life. “Will you… at least pretend? Just for tonight? For the little time Giyu-san has left…”
Her eyes flicked to the man sleeping at her side. The one who had saved her life.
Time was running out for him.
If she truly looked like the woman he had lost… maybe, just maybe, she could stay for one more day.
“We’ll leave you two alone.” The auburn-haired man said, "at midnight, everyone will pay a visit to say goodbye to him.”
When they left, she exhaled and placed a hand on her temple.
Maybe it would be better if he died in his sleep—a peaceful death—instead of looking at a woman that clearly meant a lot to him but looked at him like he was a stranger.
"Tsun, tsun," she poked his shoulder.
Whatever that word meant, it sounded ridiculous, but she said it anyway.
"Kochou..." he woke up, blue eyes half-lidded, and stared at her face like he was staring at a painting.
He gave her a long, deep stare. Analyzing every stroke and the so called wrinkles on her face. Shinobu hadn’t even turned thirty, the nerves of this man…
“I’m Shinobu Kochou, yes.” She nodded, still resting her head on the hospital pillow. “I can be your Kochou for tonight.”
“You should rest, get some sleep.” He said while yawning, “do you want something to eat? The nurse said she’ll bring you a bowl of porridge soon.”
“What did you guys usually eat together?” She asked him, violet eyes analyzing his tenderness.
“Salmon daikon,” he smiled almost bitterly, “Kochou asked me to look away whenever we ate salmon daikon because I looked weird smiling.”
“You didn’t look weird smiling.” Shinobu patted his shoulder. “You look sad.”
"I'm sad?" He looked at her and touched his lips as his smile turned into a flat line. "Maybe, I am."
"I'm sorry you lost her," Shinobu said to the man in the mismatched haori.
"It's okay... I'll meet her again."
"You guys believe those kinds of things, hey?"
"Even now, on my last day, you were sent as my death reaper, my shinigami," he said. "Shinazugawa, he saw your late sister's face when the mark took him."
"My sister Kanae?" she asked him. "Shinazugawa as in her husband?"
"Did they get married in your world?" Giyu looked at her kindly. "That's good."
"I never met you though, in my world."
"Maybe when I die, we'll meet someday."
Giyu took a small porcelain bowl from the nurse passing by. Steam curled as he ladled the congee carefully into a wooden spoon. He blew on the spoon, letting the steam touch her nose.
She glanced up at him, violet eyes wide, and he gave a faint nod before she swallowed the congee.
“So… who was she to you?” Shinobu asked, the hot congee burning her tongue slightly as she spoke.
“Kochou?” He looked at her violet eyes as if he were speaking directly to the dead. “She’s an important person to me.”
“How so?”
“We first met when we were little, at the Butterfly Mansion…” He scooped another spoon of congee and offered it to her. “She was brash and energetic, but after her sister died, she tried to hide everything with a fake smile.”
“It must have been difficult for her.”
“But she was strong, faking smiles like it was easy.” He looked at her again, a sad smile tugging at his lips. “But I love her genuine smile.”
“What does it look like?” She bit her lips, as if she was trying to remember how to smile genuinely herself.
“One spring day, near a sakura tree, she gave me that smile. It was the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen.”
Shinobu sipped another spoonful, the warmth spreading through her, and for a moment, she could feel how much he loved her. Not just her smile, but everything about 1923’s Shinobu.
“Get me origami papers, pink ones,” she said to the nearby nurse.
“We do have some in the other room,” the nurse replied, nodding quickly.
“Kochou, what are you doing?” Giyu asked.
“Tomioka-san, do you know how to fold sakura papers?” she asked.
“No…”
“I’ll teach you,” she said with a small smile.
The nurse hurried back to them, her apron rustling as she ran across the wooden floor. She was carrying a neat stack of delicate pink origami papers.
Shinobu took the papers, placing them carefully on her thigh, and looked up at Giyu. “So, it’s easy, really.”
She picked up the pink paper square sheet.
“You start by creating the base.” Her fingers brushed the paper, feeling the slight texture and hearing the gentle rustle as she folded it carefully. “Fold the bottom corner to the top to make a triangle.”
Giyu watched silently, his eyes tracking Shinobu’s fingers.
“Now, fold the petals” She instructed, shaping the pentagon into delicate petals, folding each flap. “Repeat all five petals.”
The finished flower slowly took form in her hands.
It looked like a sakura.
Giyu reached out for one paper and followed her movements, the paper crackling faintly under his calloused fingers.
Shinobu glanced at him, nodding softly. “You’re good.”
They kept folding sakura papers together, occasionally their hands brushed against each other.
She glanced up at the open window, where the full moon hung low and bright.
“Oh… look,” she murmured, holding a finished sakura against the reflection. “The moon is beautiful tonight.”
Shinobu waved the sakura paper gently, as if the silver light could seep into the pink.
Tomioka’s gaze softened. “She said that to me before, too.”
She tilted her head, curious. “That’s like an old Japanese poem, right? Another way to say, ‘I love you’?”
Giyu froze at her words.
“I mean we don’t say it like that anymore these days, but in your period isn’t it a way to confess your love to someone?”
It was as if realization had just dawned on him—the Kochou he had loved, the one whose smile he had never forgotten, had loved him back.
He stared at the moonlit sakura in her hand, and for a long moment, Shinobu could see the bitter smile returned to his face again.
She touched his shoulder as if to make it better; she didn’t know whether it would work or not, but he stopped smiling bitterly again.
“Look, we made enough sakuras,” she said, scooping all the small petals together.
“I’m trying my best, so don’t look away, Tomioka-san.”
Then, with a sudden, playful flick, she sent them flying. Pink papers scattered over her face, tumbling across the hospital bed.
Her violet eyes closed as she smiled and for a heartbeat, it felt like they weren’t in the middle of winter at all. The soft light from the lanterns and the moon reflected her.
It was warm, like it was springtime.
Shinobu had a genuine smile because she was happy. For the first time she actually rested, ate congee, and folded origamis. Sure her life was great, but it was hectic. Filled with paperworks and sleepless nights.
Here as she felt papers touching her face, she felt like she went on a holiday somewhere. Shinobu had proper sleep and a good congee. Maybe she could even dare say, good company.
"How's it?” Her violet eyes stared back at him.
“It’s… beautiful,” he said as he smiled.
It was not a bitter smile. It was one of those lopsided smiles she had seen on tv-shows. But it slowly curved into a deep, gentle smile. Tomioka looked happy and somehow later on… a little grateful.
“Tomioka-san,” she said, touching her face as she kept smiling, “is it the same smile she had?”
“No, yours has more lines.”
“You know, I’m starting to regret folding these origamis for you—”
“But it's a good kind of line,” he said, “right there near your cheek and eyes. That means you smiled happily a lot in your world.”
“I love my world…” she murmured. “I wish I could go back soon.”
Tomioka’s eyes stayed half‑lidded. “What do people in your world do before they die?”
“Don’t know,” she said softly. “Most people don’t know when they’ll die. But when they do know… they spend their time doing what they love, or being with the people they love.”
“I see.”
“How about you?” she asked.
“I just want to sleep.”
“Sleep?”
“Yeah…” A faint, tired smile tugged at his lips—too heavy for someone his age. “I’m tired. I just want to sleep, Kochou.”
Shinobu brushed his hair back gently as he rested his forehead near her knees again. She leaned down, voice barely a breath.
“Good night, Tomioka-san… have a good sleep.”
He didn’t wake again.
By the time the others arrived, Giyu was already gone.
Shinobu checked his pulse.
Nothing.
His hands were cold, but his face held a soft smile… the kind that looked grateful, as if he had finally been allowed to rest.
Shinobu wondered if she would look like that too when her time came.
Beep!
Shinobu woke up at the beep of her pager. Her violet eyes snapped open, scanning the sterile white walls of her hospital room.
So it was a dream. The car crash, the man in the mismatched haori…
“Kochou!” One of the ER nurses slammed the door open, “What the hell? Someone needs brain surgery. Now!”
Shinobu swung her legs off the sofa she had used for napping. Her white coat was already draped over her shoulders, the stethoscope bouncing lightly as she moved. She dashed toward the emergency room.
By the time she arrived at the ER, chaos had already unfolded. A woman in her thirties lay on a stretcher, blood streaked across her black hair, unconscious, her face pale under the cold hospital lights.
A man in a black suit with dark, short hair and piercing blue eyes was pressed against the stretcher, his hands trembling.
“Doctor! Save my sister!” he shouted.
“Please calm down, Mr. Tomioka,” one of the nurses said firmly.
Shinobu crouched beside the patient, her violet eyes scanning quickly. She noted the classic signs of acute epidural hematoma. Probably from the car crash. She could feel the pressure already building—if left untreated, the accumulating blood would compress the brain, potentially killing her.
“Where’s Dr. Rengoku?” Shinobu barked.
The nurse’s face tightened. “He’s… he’s not available, Dr. Kochou. He just got called in for another case. He said you can do it. He believes in you.”
Shinobu’s jaw tightened. “Then prep the OR—now. We’re going in."
“Your sister is stable,” Shinobu said, her hands lightly resting in her coat pockets, “The operation went well.”
“Thanks… I… I don’t know what to say,” he admitted, his fingers brushing nervously against the edge of his sleeve.
“You know, you look familiar,” she said, tilting her head slightly, violet eyes scanning him with quiet curiosity.
He reached into his pocket and handed her a card. “Did we meet in the courtroom? I’m Giyu Tomioka, a public defender.”
“You’re a lawyer?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I try to help people who can’t afford one.”
“That’s… really noble.”
“What are you saying? You’re the one saving lives.”
She smiled. Somehow that made her happy.
He studied her carefully. “Your smile… it looks familiar. Have we met before?”
“Really? Was that a pick-up line?” she teased, letting a small laugh escape.
“Was yours a pick-up line Doctor Kochou?” he countered.
Shinobu didn’t answer him, instead she carefully tucked his name card into her doctor’s jacket pocket
“All right, I guess I’ll go back to work now,” she said, adjusting her coat as she readied to walk away.
“What time’s your shift finished?” Giyu asked, leaning slightly against the wall, his blue eyes tracking her.
“Tomorrow,” she replied.
“Well, I’m here to watch after my sister, so maybe we can have lunch or dinner or brunch or—”
“Sure, it’s a date.” She smiled, genuinely at him.
Somehow, he found himself genuinely smiling back.