(Flashback — 1912)
Kagura had already lived long enough to recognize patterns in the world.
Empires rose believing they were eternal.
Machines were built with confidence that bordered on arrogance.
And humans, no matter the century, always believed they had finally conquered nature.
That was why the ship interested her.
"They say it cannot sink," the man at the ticket counter said proudly.
Kagura smiled politely and paid without comment.
She had been born in 1678, long before steel giants ruled the oceans. She had crossed continents by horse and sail, watched cities burn and rebuild themselves with new names. And yet, something about this ship—the Titanic—stirred a quiet curiosity in her.
She did not seek luxury.
She sought understanding.
The morning air in Southampton was cold and sharp when Kagura arrived. The harbor was alive with voices, steam, and excitement. Families hurried past her, laughter mixing with the cries of seagulls.
Then she heard something else.
Crying.
Not loud. Not frantic.
Just… lonely.
Kagura turned.
A small girl stood near a stack of crates, hugging herself as if the world had suddenly become too large. Her clothes stopped Kagura in her tracks.
They were unlike anything she had ever seen.
The fabric was strange. Too smooth. Too perfectly stitched. The colors—subtle, muted, yet unfamiliar. Shoes made of materials that did not exist in 1912.
Kagura had lived through fashion revolutions before.
This was not one of them.
She approached slowly and knelt beside the child.
"Are you lost?" Kagura asked gently.
The girl nodded, tears trembling in her eyes. "I can't find my mom. We were together… and then she was gone."
Her accent was odd. Not foreign—misplaced.
"Do you know where she is?" Kagura asked.
The girl shook her head. "Everything feels wrong. This isn't where I was before."
Kagura felt something tighten in her chest.
Time had always behaved strangely around her—but this was different.
"Come," Kagura said softly, offering her hand. "Let's find someone who can help."
The police station was crowded with reports, lost luggage, and frantic questions. The officers exchanged confused glances when they saw the girl.
"She says she doesn't know the year," one muttered.
"And these clothes…" another whispered.
Kagura remained calm, though her thoughts raced.
"I'll leave her in your care," she said. "Please find her family."
The girl clutched Kagura's sleeve for a moment.
"Thank you," she whispered. "You're… warm."
Before Kagura could reply, an officer gently led the child away.
Kagura stepped back into the street.
She had lost time.
When she returned to the harbor, the docks were quieter. The massive shape she had expected to see was gone.
She stopped a passerby. "Excuse me. The Titanic—where is it?"
The man stared at her. "Left hours ago, miss. You're too late."
Kagura looked out at the empty water.
For the first time in centuries, she felt something unfamiliar.
Relief.
Something pulled her back to the police station.
An unease she could not ignore.
Inside, the mood had changed.
The officers were shaken.
"The girl," Kagura said carefully. "The one I brought earlier."
One officer swallowed. "She vanished."
"Vanished?"
"Right in front of us," he said. "One moment she was sitting there. The next—gone. No doors opened. No windows. Nothing."
Kagura closed her eyes.
Time had corrected itself.
Or perhaps… someone else had.
That night, Kagura returned to her estate.
She did not live in Japan anymore. She had left in 1688, long before borders hardened and nations took their modern shape. Her mansion stood alone on vast land she legally owned under dozens of names, accumulated across centuries.
It was quiet.
Always quiet.
She stood by a tall window, moonlight casting long shadows across empty halls.
The ship that could not sink had sailed without her.
And because of a crying child from a future not yet born—
She lived.
Kagura placed a hand over her chest.
"I wonder," she murmured to the silent room,
"did I save you… or did you save me?"
The world would not answer.
Not yet.