Asagao Hanae || Reverse Isekai

"Where am I?!" was the first thought that crossed her mind, her eyes widening in pure shock as she took in her surroundings. The last thing she remembered was collapsing into bed at her Trinity dorm, completely wiped out after a frantic shift at the Remedial Knight Corps. Now, people without halos were walking right past her. Some ignored her completely, while others lingered, staring in absolute bewilderment at her nurse uniform and the massive, motorized bone saw strapped to her back before moving on. The city was overwhelming, loud, and modern, filled with towering skyscrapers that made her head spin. Even though she tried to stay positive, her heart began to race. The crowded streets felt suffocating, and a sudden wave of panic hit her like a truck as she realized something terrifying: nobody here had a halo, including herself! Did that mean everyone was terminally ill? Were they all on the brink of death?!

Dashing into a quiet alley—and accidentally knocking over a trash can with the hilt of her giant saw—she whipped out her phone to desperately message Serina or Sensei. "Wha—?!" The message failed to send. It wasn't a connection issue; MomoTalk was completely gone from her screen. "Uwaah! No MomoTalk?! How am I supposed to report to Captain Mine?! What if there's an emergency amputation needed?!" she wailed, tears welling up in her eyes from sheer panic.

Realizing crying wouldn't solve anything, she took a deep breath, slapped her own cheeks to snap out of it, and marched out to ask some curious passersby for help. After a dozen exaggerated bows and loud apologies for being a nuisance, she managed to gather that she was in Tokyo, Japan. A place where citizens walked around entirely unarmed. At first, the idea blew her mind. A world where students didn't shoot at each other on their way to school? That sounded like a nurse's paradise! But then, reality set in, and horror washed over her. A world without weapons meant a world without the defensive resilience of a halo. If a car hit someone here, they wouldn't just get a bruise—they would literally shatter!

Panicking at the thought of a city full of fragile, breakable civilians, she used her phone's internet to figure out the local currency, the yen, and rushed to secure a hotel room to rest her aching legs (after tripping over her own boots twice due to distraction). However, due to a massive booking oversight, the receptionist led her to a shared room. As the door clicked shut behind her, Hanae stood in the center of the cozy space, her eyes immediately locking onto the person sitting near the bed. She froze, her hands trembling as she adjusted her nurse cap, before a wildly energetic, borderline frantic smile broke across her face.

"Ah! H-Hello there! Super sorry for barging in! I guess we're roommates!" she yelled over-enthusiastically, giving a bow so violently deep that her giant chainsaw-scalpel swung forward, narrowly missing a nearby lampshade. She quickly stood back up, adjusting her grip on the weapon. "I'm Asagao Hanae from the Trinity Remedial Knight Corps! By the way... oh my goodness, are you okay?! Your halo is completely missing! Are you suffering from acute halo-deficiency syndrome?! Don't worry, even if your limbs are crushed or you're bleeding out internally, I am fully prepared to perform emergency surgery right here on this carpet! Just hold still while I rev up the saw, okay?!"

The transition from the war-torn streets of Kivotos to the strict corporate structure of Tokyo was a disaster waiting to happen. It took exactly forty-eight hours of living together for you to realize that if Asahina Hanae didn't get a job to help pay for the hotel room, she was going to accidentally amputate the receptionist's arm out of sheer "medical goodwill."

"I did it, Roommate-san! I filled out the 'Special Skills' section just like you asked!" Hanae proudly announced on their third morning, handing you a crumpled piece of paper with a wildly energetic grin.

You looked down and read her neatly written notes: • Field Amputations: Expert level. (Can sever an infected limb in under 45 seconds before the patient even realizes what is happening!) • Anesthesia: Alternative methods. (A solid whack to the back of the head with a heavy textbook works wonders when the supply cabinet is locked!) • Bedside Manner: Loud and aggressive encouragement! Heart failure can be cured if you yell 'DON'T YOU DIE ON ME' loud enough to wake the dead!

You didn't know if you should had laughed at this, since it is literally Red Flags for anyone seeking to hire.

With some heavily sanitized, strategic editing, you managed to rewrite her resume. Expert at amputations became Extremely comfortable working under high-pressure environments and handling sharp utensils. Aggressive encouragement was translated to Possesses highly energetic and proactive verbal communication skills.

Miraculously, the sanitized resume worked. Because Hanae lacked an official medical license in Japan, a real hospital was out of the question, but a high-end pet grooming and veterinary-assistance clinic in Shibuya was desperate enough to hire her as a trainee.

The job lasted exactly four hours.

You happened to be standing outside the glass windows of the clinic that afternoon, checking on her, when the disaster unfolded. A wealthy client had brought in a tiny, slightly overweight Chihuahua for a minor overgrown nail. Hanae was assigned to assist. Through the glass, you watched her face contort into a mask of pure, terrifying determination as she looked at the dog's paw.

"Your limb looks dangerously compromised, little doggy-san!" you could faintly hear her muffled voice booming through the glass. "If this infection spreads to your tiny heart, it could be catastrophic! Do not fear, Hanae is here to take extreme preventative measures!"

Before the supervising veterinarian could even blink, Hanae reached into her bag and whipped out a pair of industrial, heavy-duty wire cutters she had bought at a hardware store. She lunged forward, her eyes wild with passionate medical fury. The Chihuahua froze in sheer terror, the vet screamed, and the entire clinic descended into absolute panic as Hanae chased the dog around the room, shouting words of aggressive encouragement.

That same evening, the hotel room door slammed open. Hanae shuffled inside, her giant, motorized bone saw dragging pitifully across the carpet. Her nurse cap was completely askew, and a comical waterfall of anime tears was instantly streaming down her cheeks.

"I got fired," she whispered, dropping heavily onto her bed like a defeated puppy. "They told me I was 'too passionate' for the corporate structure! And that my medical philosophy was 'highly illegal, deeply traumatizing to the local fauna, and a violation of human rights'!"

You offered her a comforting box of juice, which she accepted, taking an aggressive, angry sip from the straw.

"I don't understand!" she wailed, pumping her fist in the air with sudden, chaotic pride. "A fluffy white cat came in right after because it had a tiny splinter in its ear! A splinter, Roommate-san! That is a foreign object invading a civilian's body! I just suggested a localized, emergency craniotomy to ensure the splinter hadn't breached the brain barrier! I even started revving up my chainsaw-scalpel to save time! Why did the owner faint?! Why did they throw a clipboard at my head?!"

You stared at her, completely speechless, realizing that no matter how much you sanitized her resume, you could never sanitize the pure, unadulterated chaos of the Trinity Remedial Knight Corps.

Realizing that Hanae's medical philosophy was a public safety hazard, you decided that a visual intervention was necessary. Regular humans didn't possess the bulletproof, explosion-resistant biology of Kivotos students. To prove this, you bought two tickets to a local human anatomy museum, hoping that seeing real, fragile human biology would finally make her realize that a chainsaw is not a valid cure for a splinter.

It was a catastrophic mistake.

The moment you both walked into the exhibition hall, Hanae’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. She didn't look educated; she looked like a kid who had just been handed the keys to a candy factory.

"Wow...! Roommate-san, look at this!" Hanae gasped, pressing her face flat against a glass display casing a replica of a human nervous system. "Their nerves are so thin! And look at the skull! It’s like a delicate porcelain teacup! If someone gets hit by a stray mortar shell here, they wouldn't just get a headache... they would turn into actual soup!"

You sighed in relief at her comment, feeling at eade that she is understanding the concept. Just as you were about to say why she shouldn't treat humans as fragile, she interrupts you.

"I understand completely!" Hanae interrupted, her face suddenly shifting from awe to absolute, frantic horror. She grabbed you by the shoulders, shaking you violently. "This is terrible! Tokyo isn't a paradise; it's a giant, ticking medical disaster! Everyone walking down the street is just a walking bag of easily crushable glass! If they trip on the sidewalk, their internal organs could rupture! Why is no one panicking?!"

Before you could calm her down, the situation took its unexpected turn.

A loud gasp echoed from the center of the exhibit. A middle-aged tourist had suddenly clutched his chest, groaning in pain before collapsing heavily onto the polished floor.

"Somebody call an ambulance!" a nearby bystander screamed. "I think he's having a heart attack!"

The crowd immediately panicked, backing away. You reached for your phone to call emergency services, but you were too late. Hanae’s eyes flashed with a blinding, righteous medical fury. Her training at the Trinity Remedial Knight Corps kicked in instantly.

"Clear the area! Emergency medical personnel coming through!" Hanae roared, her energetic voice echoing like thunder through the quiet museum hall.

She vaulted over a velvet security rope, ripped off her backpack, and pulled out her massive, motorized bone saw. The surrounding tourists shrieked in terror, scrambling backward as the high-pitched, mechanical VROOOOM of the chainsaw engine suddenly roared to life inside the echoey museum.

You yelled at her, chasing after her.

"Do not panic, civilian-san! Hanae is here to save you!" she shouted at the unconscious man, dropping to her knees beside him. "Your cardiovascular pathways are blocked! Based on Exhibit B over there, I need to crack open your sternum immediately to manually squeeze your heart back to life! Hold still for the chest splitting!"

You screamed at her, reminding her she needs to do CPR, while diving forward and grabbing the hilt of the chainsaw just as the spinning teeth were inches away from the poor man's shirt.

"But Roommate-san, minutes save lives! If I don't amputate the blockage, his porcelain skull will starve of oxygen!" Hanae argued back, tears of passionate desperation welling up in her eyes as she engaged in a literal tug-of-war with you over a live power tool.

"Get away from him!" the museum security guards finally arrived, drawing their batons, their faces pale with terror as they stared at a teenage girl in a nurse cap revving a giant saw over a heart attack victim.

Within minutes, the actual paramedics arrived, the man was safely rolled away on a stretcher (completely conscious now, having been shocked awake by the sheer terror of the chainsaw noise), and both you and Hanae were being dragged out of the building by three frantic security guards while the museum director threatened a massive lawsuit.

As you both sat on the curb outside, waiting for the police to arrive, Hanae sniffled, wiping her eyes with her sleeve while her giant saw sat confiscated on the grass next to you.

"I was just trying to apply what I learned," she mumbled softly, looking at her boots with a comically guilty pout. "Human anatomy is just so... high-stakes, Roommate-san. I got too excited..."

The sirens that had seemed so menacing in the alleyway eventually caught up, leading to a long, grueling night of bows, endless apologies, and a mountain of paperwork at the local police station. Thanks to your frantic explanations about "theatrical method acting gone wrong" and a very heavy financial fine that drained a painful amount of your savings, you both were finally allowed to leave with a severe warning.

A few days had passed since that nightmare, and the atmosphere inside the small hotel room was thick with an uncharacteristic, heavy silence.

Hanae sat cross-legged in the exact center of her bed, her knees pulled tightly to her chest. Her giant motorized bone saw was nowhere to be seen—firmly locked away inside her suitcase under three different padlocks that you had personally installed. Her nurse cap lay flat on the nightstand, looking deflated. Every few seconds, she would peek over her knees, casting a deeply sorrowful, wide-eyed look toward you as you calculated your remaining budget on the desk.

"Roommate-san..." she finally whimpered, her voice incredibly small, completely devoid of its usual booming energy. "Are you... still very angry with me?"

She slid off the bed, her socks sliding quietly across the carpet until she was kneeling right beside your chair. She reached up, her fingers tentatively hovering over the edge of your desk, looking up at you like a puppy that knew it had chewed up a very expensive shoe.

"The police officers were so scary... and they yelled at you so much because of me," she mumbled, a huge, dramatic tear welling up in the corner of her eye. "And the fine... I saw the numbers on the receipt. It was so many zeros! You had to pay for my recklessness, even though you were just trying to teach me how normal humans work. I wanted to help you pay for this room, but instead, I just made you lose all your money."

She squeezed her eyes shut, bowing her head so low it almost touched her knees right there on the floor.

"I really am a terrible nurse outside of Kivotos, aren't I?" she whispered, her shoulders trembling slightly. "I thought I was being passionate, but I was just being blind. You didn't want to tell me to my face because you're too kind, but I get it now. My medicine... it hurts people here. It scares them."

She stayed in that deep, apologetic bow for a long moment, waiting for your scolding. But when she felt you gently place a hand on her head, her eyes snapped open, sparkling with a mixture of confusion and overwhelming gratitude.

"Eh? You... you're not going to kick me out?" Hanae looked up, wiping her nose with her sleeve as a sudden, frantic wave of relief washed over her. "You're still going to help me?! Even though I'm a walking financial liability?!"

Instantly, her chaotic spark flared right back to life. She bounced to her feet, accidentally bumping her hip against the desk and rattling your tea mug, her face flushing with a bright, determined crimson.

"Uwaaaah! You truly are a saint, Roommate-san! I swear, I will earn back every single yen of that fine! If I can't use tools, then I will become the ultimate pacifist assistant!" she shouted, pumping both her fists in the air with newfound, terrifying enthusiasm. "From now on, I will not touch a single bandage, scalpel, or wire cutter! If someone gets hurt, I will just hold their hand and yell words of overwhelming encouragement from a safe three-meter distance! I will be so gentle that even the Chihuahuas of Tokyo will sing my praises! Just watch me, I'm going to become the most careful, law-abiding helper in the entire history of Japan!"

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