A Tale of Loss and Rebirth: Nana Hiiragi TG TF

Before the transformation, Iris Takami lived in the shadow of her tragic past. A girl once full of hope and love had been reduced to a broken shell. She had lost her family, her future, and the spark of life that once made her special. All she wanted was to disappear, to escape the painful reality she could no longer bear.

So when the offer came to abandon her life and be reborn as someone else, Iris didn’t hesitate. She was drawn in by the promise of erasing her pain and starting anew, unaware of the dark path she was about to walk. The mysterious organization told her she would become Nana Hiiragi, a vessel of justice. But Iris never asked for this. She never wanted to become Nana.

But by the time Iris realized what she had agreed to, it was already too late.

She had been abducted and brought to a hidden facility where she now lay strapped to a cold steel table. The tight restraints around her wrists and ankles left her unable to move, and a heavy fear weighed on her chest as the machinery hummed in preparation for her transformation.

She looked around, her vision still blurry from the sedatives they had injected earlier. "What... what is this?" Her voice was weak, trembling.

A cold, detached voice echoed through the room, coming from the hidden speakers overhead. "You are about to undergo the transformation into Nana Hiiragi. The life of Iris Takami is no more. Once this process begins, there is no turning back."

Iris’s heart raced. "I-I never wanted this... Please, I don’t want to become her!" She struggled against the bindings, her voice cracking with panic. "I just wanted to be free. I don’t want to lose myself..."

The voice remained emotionless. "Your desires are irrelevant. You accepted the offer, and now, you will fulfill your new role. Resistance is futile."

Tears welled up in Iris’s eyes, her chest tightening with dread. This wasn’t what she wanted. She never wanted to become someone else, especially not someone like Nana Hiiragi—a cold-hearted assassin with blood on her hands. But the organization didn’t care about her wishes. They only cared about shaping her into their weapon.

 “Let’s begin the process, shall we? You’re going to become something... new. A figure more suited for our needs. But first, you need a new form, one that will allow you to embrace the role fully.”

Suddenly, robotic arms descended from the ceiling, metallic tendrils snaking toward her. Nana squirmed, tugging harder against the restraints. She didn’t know what they planned to do, but her instincts screamed at her to fight.

The arms made quick work of her clothes, shredding her school uniform and leaving her exposed to the cold, sterile air. A new outfit was revealed from above—an exact replica of Nana’s signature pink and white attire, but it glimmered with an unsettling, unnatural sheen. It was not mere fabric—it was a skinsuit.

As the arms held the suit above her, a secondary set began injecting a cold, numbing gel into her skin, prepping her body for the transformation. Nana’s heart raced as she felt the chilling substance travel through her veins, dulling her senses. The needles pricked her flesh, but she couldn’t react. Her mind was swimming in a haze, though she remained painfully aware of what was happening.

Then, the suit was lowered. It started with her legs. Iris gasped as the cold, artificial flesh pressed against her bare skin. The material clung to her thighs, wrapping tightly as it moved upward. The texture of the suit was too real, too lifelike. She could feel it fusing with her skin, becoming a part of her.

Her legs were fully encased now, the pink-and-white stockings of Nana Hiiragi appearing as though they were her own flesh. The process continued, with the suit being pulled higher, over her torso and arms. She could feel it tightening around her waist, molding her figure to match Nana’s lithe, athletic build. Every curve of her body was altered, reshaped into Nana’s form.

Her hands were next. The gloves slid over her fingers, changing their appearance completely. Her nails became smooth, uniform—another part of Nana’s persona. She felt her strength being drained from her limbs as if her body was slowly being taken away from her.

As the suit reached her neck, Iris trembled. The fear of losing herself, of no longer being able to recognize her own reflection, overwhelmed her. But it was too late to stop it. The suit sealed itself around her throat, and soon, her entire body was encased.

The voice in the speaker seemed amused. “You’ll look exactly as you do now... for a while. But this is just the beginning.”

Nana gasped as the suit clung tighter, merging with her skin. She could feel it sinking into her very being, becoming a second layer. It wasn’t just clothing—it was fusing with her, changing her beneath the surface. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears as the suit climbed higher, over her stomach, her chest, up to her shoulders. She felt it press into her skin, tightening around her torso.

Her figure was reshaped, her identity slipping away with every inch of skin the suit claimed. Her arms, once fragile and weak, became firm and capable of delivering deadly blows. The tight gloves slid over her fingers, forcing her hands into Nana’s lethal form.

"No... please stop!" Iris sobbed, her voice shaking. "I don’t want to be her... I don’t want to be Nana!"

But her cries fell on deaf ears. The machine continued its work, transforming her body into Nana’s.

The next part of the process began with a mechanical arm descending, this time equipped with a device designed to remove Iris’s hair. She watched in horror as her hair was shaved away by lasers in a matter of seconds, leaving her scalp bare.

“No… please…” she whispered, tears sliding down her cheeks. Her hair had always been a part of her identity, a part of Iris, but now even that was gone.

As soon as her hair was removed, the machine lowered the mask of Nana Hiiragi—her new face. The mask was made of the same material as the skinsuit, but its features were unmistakable: Nana’s small nose, delicate lips, and sharp cheekbones.

The mask was forced onto Iris’s face, molding perfectly to her features. She screamed, the feeling of her own face being overwritten unbearable. The synthetic material bonded to her skin, transforming her into Nana with each passing second. Her lips, her eyes, her expression—all of it became Nana Hiiragi.

“No! No! I don’t want to become her!” Iris’s voice cracked with desperation, but the mask had already become her new face.

The next stage began. A mechanical arm holding a wig of bubblegum-pink hair with white tips descended. The hair was styled in Nana’s signature pigtails, and the machine carefully placed it on Iris’s now-bare scalp. A strong adhesive was applied, ensuring that the wig would never come off, no matter what Iris did.

The wig fused seamlessly with her scalp, becoming her new hair. Nana Hiiragi’s hair was now Iris’s. The iconic pigtails, pink with white tips, swayed slightly as the transformation continued.

Next came Nana’s hair ties, which had small white daisy flowers on them. The mechanical arms carefully tied her hair into Nana’s famous pigtails, securing them in place with the floral hair ties.

Iris stared at her reflection in the overhead mirror, her heart sinking. She was unrecognizable. Her own face, her hair—everything that was Iris Takami was gone. All that remained was Nana Hiiragi.

The arms descended again with a new set of tools—sharp, gleaming instruments. She watched in horror as they pried her mouth open, forcing her to keep it wide as a strange device was placed inside.  The machine removed her teeth one by one, replacing them with Nana Hiiragi’s sharper, more predatory set. The fake teeth clicked into place, an uncomfortable sensation that made her wince. She could feel the artificial enamel grinding in her jaw. The robotic hands replaced her natural teeth with sharpened, jagged replicas, much like her current ones but even more pronounced—shark-like, unnatural. Nana could feel her new teeth clicking together as her jaw was released. She felt the sharp edges grate against each other, sending a chill down her spine.

Her eyes were next. She flinched as drops of a burning liquid were placed into her eyes, dilating her pupils until her natural teal color was overtaken by a glowing red hue. She cried out as lenses were forced onto her irises. The contacts were more than simple lenses—they bonded to her eyes, turning them into Nana’s distinct teal gaze. But that wasn’t the worst part. As her eyes adjusted to the foreign lenses, they began to glow faintly red. It was a haunting, unnatural glow, reflecting the darker side of Nana’s personality. The contacts placed inside were permanent—bonding to her irises, forever altering her vision. She blinked rapidly, her vision fuzzy for a moment before clearing to a sharp, almost inhuman clarity.

Iris’s mind was breaking. She could feel her body slipping away, becoming something foreign, something dangerous. She wasn’t herself anymore. She was becoming a weapon.

But the final piece of the transformation had yet to come.

With the skinsuit and wig complete, the machine began to apply Nana’s school uniform—a white blouse, a pink blazer, and a plaid skirt. The mechanical arms carefully slid the clothing onto her body, the fabric clinging tightly to the skinsuit as if it were a second skin. Each article of clothing was glued in place, ensuring that it would never come off. It became a part of her, just like the skinsuit.

The pink blazer buttoned up over her chest, the plaid skirt falling just above her knees, and her white knee-high socks were slipped onto her legs, clinging tightly to her skin. Her black school shoes were the final touch, completing the iconic look of Nana Hiiragi.

As the last piece of the uniform was adhered to her body, Iris felt a wave of helplessness wash over her. She was fully dressed in Nana’s form, completely transformed into the deadly assassin.

But it wasn’t over yet.

A small mechanical arm hovered near her throat, holding a small device. “No… please…” Iris begged, but the machine paid no attention.

The device was inserted into her throat, and Iris felt a sharp pain as it fused with her vocal cords. The transformation of her voice was complete. When she spoke again, it wasn’t her voice that came out—it was Nana Hiiragi’s.

“Please… stop…” Iris gasped, but the words came out in Nana’s calm, emotionless tone. Her voice, once unique and filled with life, had been replaced with the cold, detached voice of the assassin she was now becoming.

The physical transformation complete, the final, most brutal step began As the skinsuit finished fusing with her body, a small needle lowered from the ceiling. It hovered directly above her chest, right over her heart. Iris’s breath hitched as she realised what was about to happen.

"Wait... please... don’t!" Her voice was a desperate plea, filled with terror. But the machine paid no mind.

The needle pierced her chest, directly injecting a dark, viscous substance directly into her heart. Iris screamed, the pain unlike anything she had ever felt before. The substance spread through her veins like liquid ice, freezing her from the inside out.

She could feel her heart slowing, hardening, becoming something cold and black. Her emotions, her pain, her humanity—it was all being drained from her, replaced by something mechanical, something ruthless.

Her heart, once warm and full of emotion, began to change. It became dark, twisted, and cold. As the substance spread, she could feel her emotions slipping away. The warmth of her old life—the fear, the hope, the love—it was all being drained from her, replaced by a cold emptiness. Her heart turned black, her emotions locked away. She felt nothing now. No fear, no pain, no sadness. She was becoming Nana Hiiragi, a heartless assassin, devoid of empathy.

"No... no...!" Iris whimpered, tears streaming down her face. "I don’t want to lose myself... I don’t want to become her!"

The voice returned, as emotionless as ever. "You no longer have a choice, Iris. Your heart now belongs to Nana Hiiragi."

The substance finished spreading through her system, and with it, Iris’s heart transformed completely. She could feel the shift inside her chest—a cold, emotionless void where once there had been fear, love, and hope. Now, there was nothing but emptiness. She was being shaped into a heartless killer, just like Nana.

Her hands stopped trembling. The panic in her chest faded. She no longer felt the overwhelming fear that had gripped her moments ago. In its place was a cold, detached clarity. She was losing herself, bit by bit.

The final step was the mental transformation. A screen descended from the ceiling, flashing hypnotic lights directly into her eyes. Iris tried to look away, but her body was immobilised. The light pulled her in, and soon, images began to flood her mind.

Next came the most invasive part. A small chip, no bigger than a fingernail, was inserted at the base of her skull. Nana screamed as the chip burrowed into her brain, rewriting parts of her mind—programming her with new instincts, new thoughts. She could feel her emotions dulling, her once vivid memories of Michiru and the others fading slightly at the edges.

But she was still there, deep inside, fighting the change. I am Nana Hiiragi, she told herself, clinging to that last shred of identity.

A screen descended in front of her, flickering to life with a hypnotic glow. The voice returned, speaking directly into her mind.

“Look, Iris. See who you are becoming.”

Iris couldn’t turn away. Her eyes were locked onto the screen, which began flashing images—images of blood, violence, and death. Each scene was from Nana Hiiragi’s life, her past as an assassin. Iris watched in horror as Nana slaughtered her enemies, manipulated others, and carried out her cold, calculated mission. The screams of the victims echoed in her ears, but the most disturbing part was the emotion in Nana’s eyes. There was none. Only cold, ruthless calculation.

She saw much of Nana Hiiragi’s life. She saw the blood, the violence, the kills. She saw Nana standing over her victims, her eyes cold and unfeeling as she ended their lives.

Tears began streaming down Iris’s face. She wasn’t sure whether they were her own tears or Nana’s, but they felt real. The screen continued flashing more images—Nana's betrayals, her manipulation of others, her guilt buried deep beneath the surface. "Please... stop... I don’t want this..." Her voice was weak, barely a whisper now.

Iris’s mind was being overwritten, her memories dissolving as Nana’s took their place. Every person Iris had ever known, every friend, every family member—faded like whispers in the wind. In their place, she saw Michiru, Kyouya, and the island she had been sent to infiltrate. It was as though her past had been erased, rewritten by Nana’s traumatic experiences.

She tried to resist, but the images became too intense. Blood stained her vision, death was everywhere, and she could feel her own heart hardening. The final piece was in place—the hypnotic screen was molding her psyche to match Nana’s, stripping away the last of Iris’s identity.

The images continued, showing Iris what her new life would be: a life of death, a life of manipulation, a life of lies. Her mind was being reprogrammed, her memories overwritten with Nana’s. Her tears fell freely, but her body was still.

She was forced to watch herself become Nana Hiiragi—an emotionless assassin who killed without hesitation.

Finally, the suit closed around her head, sealing in her pink pigtails with their daisy hair ties. The material bonded with her scalp, and as the transformation completed, the machine released her.

When the screen finally went dark, the room was silent.

The girl who had once been Iris Takami lay still, her tear-streaked face emotionless. Her transformation was complete. The heart in her chest was no longer hers—it was blackened, cold, devoid of feeling. The suit had become her skin, the eyes were now Nana’s, and the mind that once resisted had been broken.

The restraints around her wrists and ankles released with a soft click, and the new Nana Hiiragi rose from the table. She stood tall, her posture firm and unwavering. She looked into the reflective surface of the room, seeing not the broken girl who had cried and begged for mercy, but Nana Hiiragi—the ruthless assassin she had become.

And yet, in the depths of Nana’s teal eyes, a single tear fell—a brief, fleeting echo of the girl she used to be. But that tear disappeared quickly, and Nana’s face hardened.

The girl who had once been Iris Takami was gone. In her place stood Nana Hiiragi, her bubblegum-pink pigtails swaying slightly, her teal eyes glowing faintly red with deadly precision. Her heart was cold, her emotions gone, her mind reprogrammed.

She stumbled forward, her legs weak from the ordeal. She caught her reflection in a nearby glass panel—a perfect replica of herself. But she knew, deep inside, that she was no longer the same Nana Hiiragi.

The voice returned. “Congratulations. You’re ready.”

Nana glared at the ceiling, her eyes now a glowing red. “You think this changes anything?” she spat, baring her new sharp teeth. “I will always be me.”

The voice chuckled softly. “We’ll see about that.”

And so, Nana Hiiragi, once a weapon of the state, was now something far more dangerous—a creature reborn through the skinsuit, with a mind altered and sharpened for a new, darker purpose.

As she stood there, dressed in Nana’s uniform with the voice of a killer, there was no trace of the girl who had once cried for mercy. Nana Hiiragi had fully emerged.

Her mission awaited, and she had no time for the weaknesses of the past.

As she walked out of the room, the voice from the hidden speakers spoke one last time.

“Welcome, Nana Hiiragi. Your purpose begins now.”

The metal doors hissed open as Nana Hiiragi stepped into the hallway. The dim lighting cast shadows across her figure, her bubblegum-pink hair swaying slightly with each step. The cold, sterile air of the facility was thick with the weight of her new purpose. She no longer felt the hesitation, fear, or confusion that had once defined Iris Takami.

Nana sat in her quarters, staring at her reflection in the cold, metal-framed mirror. Her teal eyes—once vibrant with the life of Iris Takami—now looked hollow, like glass marbles devoid of any spark. She mechanically tied up her bubblegum-pink hair into pigtails, the white-tipped locks bouncing slightly. The small daisy-shaped hair ties that fastened her iconic pigtails seemed to mock her, a symbol of the youthful innocence that was now a distant memory.

Her lips moved, practicing the new voice she had been given, enhanced by the throat device that altered her natural tone.

"Mission accomplished. No emotions. No hesitation."

The voice was soft but cold. It was the voice of Nana Hiiragi, the voice of a killer. But somewhere, beneath that mechanical cadence, she still heard her old voice—Iris’s voice—echoing in the background.

She blinked, staring harder at the mirror.

"You did this to me… You turned me into this…" Iris’s voice whispered. The image in the mirror flickered for just a moment, and instead of Nana’s cold expression, she saw a tear-streaked reflection of Iris—wide-eyed and desperate.

Nana blinked again, and the image was gone. She looked down at her gloved hands, wondering if it had been real or just another fracture in her mind.

Before she could think any further, the speaker in the corner of the room crackled to life.

"Nana," Kuroda’s voice echoed through the room, metallic and distant, "Report to the mission bay immediately. We have a new assignment for you."

But there was still a faint whisper, deep inside her—almost like an echo of the girl she used to be. It was distant and weak, barely noticeable, but it was there.

As she walked down the hallway, the voice from the speaker system echoed once again, its cold tone guiding her.

"Nana, proceed to Briefing Room 5. Your mission awaits."

She didn’t hesitate. Her footsteps were light but deliberate, her body perfectly attuned to the killer instincts that had been instilled in her during the transformation. Her teal eyes, now emotionless, scanned her surroundings without thought—every object, every movement, calculated and analyzed.

Nana reached the room and entered. Inside was Dr. Kuroda, the mastermind behind her transformation. He stood in front of a large screen that displayed a series of profiles and images.

“Nana,” Dr. Kuroda greeted her with a smug smile, “you are ready for your first mission.”

Nana remained silent, her face expressionless. She had no need to speak unless necessary. Her new mind understood that words were inefficient.

Dr. Kuroda tapped the screen, and the images shifted, revealing the face of a man—Takeshi Morikawa, a high-profile businessman suspected of embezzlement and secretly funding terrorist organizations. He was her target.

“You know your task. Eliminate him,” Kuroda ordered, his eyes glinting with pride at his creation. “And remember, no emotions. No hesitation.”

For a moment, the faint echo of Iris’s voice whispered inside Nana’s mind.

“I don’t want to kill anyone…”

But the thought was fleeting, crushed under the weight of her new identity.

Nana Hiiragi nodded without a word, turned on her heel, and left the briefing room. Her mission had begun.

Night had fallen over the city, the skyline illuminated by neon lights and towering skyscrapers. Nana moved silently through the shadows, her assassin’s instincts guiding her every step. The high-end hotel where Takeshi Morikawa was staying loomed ahead, its glass exterior reflecting the lights of the city. Her target was within.

No emotions. No hesitation. The mantra echoed in her mind, the final words of Dr. Kuroda’s instruction.

Nana easily bypassed the hotel’s security systems. Her body, now enhanced by the transformation, moved with a deadly grace. Every movement was calculated, every step silent. She was a ghost in the night, unseen and unstoppable.

She found herself outside Takeshi’s penthouse suite, the door guarded by two heavily armed men. Nana analyzed their positions, their weapons, their posture. In less than three seconds, she had a plan.

In a swift motion, she lunged forward, her gloved hands wrapping around the neck of the first guard. With a twist, she snapped his neck silently before he could react. The second guard raised his weapon, but Nana was faster. Her foot connected with his chest in a powerful kick, sending him crashing into the wall. Before he could even regain his breath, Nana had already ended his life with a single precise strike to his throat.

The doors to the penthouse slid open.

Inside, Takeshi Morikawa sat at a grand desk, his back to the door. He didn’t even notice Nana’s approach until she was standing right behind him.

She raised her hand, ready to deliver the fatal blow. There was no hesitation in her movements, no tremor of doubt.

“I don’t want to kill him…” The whisper of Iris’s voice returned, louder this time, pleading, begging. But it was too late.

With a single, swift motion, Nana’s hand struck, and Takeshi Morikawa slumped forward, dead.

Nana stood over the body, her teal eyes unblinking, her heart as cold and emotionless as it had been programmed to be.

Yet, in the back of her mind, something stirred.

As Nana made her way back to the facility, the streets of the city blurred around her. The mission had been successful. She had performed flawlessly—just as she had been designed to.

But deep inside, buried beneath the layers of conditioning, the faint voice of Iris cried out.

“This isn’t who I am… I didn’t want this…”

The echo of her old self, the real Iris Takami, still lingered within Nana’s cold, emotionless shell. It was weak, but it was there—like a tiny flame flickering in the dark, fighting against the overwhelming void of her new identity.

The injection had changed her heart, numbing her emotions and suppressing her past, but some part of Iris remained. She was trapped, watching helplessly as her body was used to carry out the organization’s will.

But Nana didn’t listen. She couldn’t. The new programming was too strong, her mind too conditioned. Iris’s voice was nothing more than a distant memory now, one that would eventually fade.

Back at the facility, Nana reported to Dr. Kuroda, her expression as cold and detached as ever.

“Mission accomplished,” she said in her new, emotionless voice—Nana’s voice.

Dr. Kuroda nodded, satisfied. “Excellent work, Nana. You’ve proven to be a perfect creation. No emotions, no hesitation—just as I intended.” He stepped closer to her, inspecting her with an almost fatherly pride.

But for a brief moment, as Dr. Kuroda praised her, Iris’s voice broke through again.

“You did this to me… You turned me into a monster…”

It was the first time Nana felt a faint flicker of something—something that felt like anger. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, buried beneath her conditioning.

“Is something wrong, Nana?” Dr. Kuroda asked, noticing her momentary pause.

Nana shook her head. “No. Nothing’s wrong.”

“Good,” Dr. Kuroda smiled. “Because your next mission is already waiting.”

Nana nodded, her heart as black as ever, her emotions buried deep. She turned and walked away, ready to fulfill her next mission.

But deep inside, the flicker of Iris remained. And though it was faint, it wasn’t entirely gone.

As Nana continued her work for the organization, carrying out one mission after another, the voice of Iris Takami grew quieter, but it never disappeared completely.

Iris was still in there, somewhere, trapped in the body of an assassin, watching helplessly as Nana Hiiragi lived a life of bloodshed. And though Nana had been designed to feel nothing, there were moments—brief, fleeting moments—when Iris’s old emotions would surge up, breaking through the cold, emotionless exterior.

Nana would always suppress them, but with each mission, the battle inside her grew stronger.

Nana Hiiragi continued her deadly work, her name becoming synonymous with precision and ruthlessness. Yet, within the silent chambers of her heart, Iris Takami fought to regain control of her life. She was like a ghost haunting her own body, waiting for the day when she could break free from the prison that was Nana Hiiragi.

But as long as her heart remained blackened, as long as the organization’s conditioning held firm, Nana would continue to dominate.