"You're going to be just fine, right?" Choromatsu asked Todomatsu nervously.

The sixth son sat up in his hospital bed, his gown twisting around him uncomfortably as he made an attempt to relax. His eyes were clouded over with sadness, showing no signs of wanting to live.

"He'll be fine," a nurse reassured Choromatsu as she entered the room with a clipboard, the sound of her shoes echoing as she walked.

The sun had barely risen as Todomatsu clutched to his favorite stuffed animal, a black rabbit named Moon. It was strange for the youngest son to cling to such childish things with the age he was at, but nobody really seemed to mind. This was the only time that sort of thing seemed to be acceptable.

A heart transplant was not to be taken lightly. It was not to be treated as a normal everyday surgery.

"The doctor is ready now," another nurse spoke, popping her head in the curtained off section of the huge room, filled with patients about to go into surgery. "Don't be nervous. Everything will go just fine, Matsuno."

Todomatsu slumped down in the uncomfortable hospital bed a little, pulling one of the heated blankets up on him that his nurse had kindly provided.

Digging his fingers into Moon, Todomatsu squeezed his eyes shut nervously, murmuring a prayer.

"Todomatsu," Ichimatsu spoke softly, approaching his brother's hospital bed. "Promise me...you'll come back, alright...?"

Todomatsu opened his eyes for a split second and nodded his head. Tears were swimming in his eyes, but they refused to leak out.

"Let's go," the second nurse spoke, pulling up the rails on the left side of the boy's bed. The first nurse pulled up the rails on the other side, then immediately began to roll the boy away.

"Have you had surgery before?" one of the nurses asked Todomatsu.

"Once," Todomatsu whimpered, clinging to the stuffed rabbit, his palms sweating.

"How was your experience?" the nurse asked sweetly. "Did you feel anything?"

"I felt alone," Todomatsu muttered his thoughts, not meaning to reply in such a way.

"Do you have any friends?" the other nurse asked, switching to a new topic.

"I used to have a friend," Todomatsu replied. "She died...recently..."

"But her heart will prove an experiment right or wrong, according to Dr. Takunima," the nurse replied. "It will be a success."

"Don't say things you don't know," the other nurse sighed.

The hospital bed rammed into two swinging doors, revealing a medium sized room, bright lights illuminating the pure white surfaces of literally everything. It was the definition of discomfort.

"Quick, the clock starts ticking now," the doctor ordered, a different nurse holding up a sort of mask to Todomatsu's face.

"The anesthesia..." Todomatsu thought, his entire body going limp with fear. He inhaled deeply.

Todomatsu despised anesthesia, but also loved it. The last time he had been knocked out for surgery, the anesthesia had blocked his memories for hours, which was completely normal. Being under anesthesia was like being dead. One minute you were awake, the next, all you know is darkness for only a split second. Before you know it, you're awake again, and in great pain, usually.

"How are you feeling?" a nurse asked. "Talk to me."

"They're trying to trick me into going to sleep, aren't they..." Todomatsu thought to himself, then replied. "I feel awful..."

"Why do you feel awful? How is your school life?" the nurse pushed.

"I don't want to die...school is too hard..my friend is..." Todomatsu felt the entire world go black. It had all happened faster than he suspected.

And for four hours, that was exactly how it was during his heart transplant.

There was no train of thought, no light, only darkness, but Todomatsu was unaware of the darkness. He was unaware that he even existed as a person. That's how the anesthesia always worked with him.

"Doctor, this heart..." the nurse spoke, her voice growing frantic. "This heart won't start beating!"

"What do you mean?" the doctor snapped, looking over at the time. They only had an hour left, or their patient would be a goner.

"The heart is failing to do its job!" the nurse exclaimed, her lips growing pale. She had never experienced the loss of a patient, and she didn't want it to happen now.

"You need to massage it, doctor!" a male nurse added, his voice getting higher pitched than normal. "Isn't that what you have to do?"

The doctor stared at Todomatsu, then looked at the heart, and Todomatsu's old heart.

"Todomatsu," the doctor muttered, as he massaged the heart, attempting to make it beat.

The heart remained still.

The doctor massaged it once more.

No response.

"Todomatsu! Tell your heart to beat! You can't give up so easily! Tell your heart to beat again!"

Then just like that, the boy's new heart began to beat, working absolutely perfectly. It was a miracle.

The two nurses sighed in relief, but there was no time to lose now. They were fifteen minutes behind.

With the boy's exposed flesh, if his chest remained open much longer, he would die.

"Todomatsu, hang in there..." the doctor muttered, doing his absolute best to finish his job perfectly, at an abnormally fast pace, too. "Kinkai will live on..."

Todomatsu sat straight up in his futon, his eyes snapping open. Sweat ran down his forehead, his hands digging into his chest where his heart was.

"No..." Todomatsu panted, shaking his head. "It was just a dream...not a memory...I got through the surgery just fine, that never happened...I didn't almost die..."

Todomatsu glanced around the room. The room was completely empty, and sunlight was fighting to pass through the thick, green curtains.

"Just...a dream..." Todomatsu inhaled deeply. "Nothing else."

Yet deep down, Todomatsu knew very well, that he hadn't been dreaming. He had suffered another memory, seeing things in the eyes of his nurses while he had been in surgery so many years ago.