The smell came first.
Not smoke, not dust, not the bitter bite of blood that had rimmed the edge of Raizen's last memory.
Antiseptic and lemon, cool air that hummed through a clean vent, and the soft thrum of machinery hidden behind walls.
Not like the Underworks… The sound is clearer.
Light pressed against his eyelids. He pried them open.
A white ceiling waited above him, not plain white but veined with hair-thin threads of glowing wires that pulsed in a slow, reassuring rhythm. Every pulse sent a faint blue reflection skimming the polished floor.
Somewhere, a diagnostic machine clicked and whirred. A second, gentler rhythm whispered at his bedside - his vitals scrolling in patient, green patterns, beeping at every spike.
He tried to turn his head and his vision sloshed, heavy and blurry. The pillow crackled under his cheek. Cool weight slid a little on his forehead.
"Careful..."
A familiar face was right above his.
Just like the first time he saw her awake.
