The air inside the dimly lit clinic felt heavy, thick with the scent of antiseptic and something more fragile—unspoken truths. Outside, rain pattered against the windows in a steady rhythm, like a heartbeat echoing through silence.
Makoto sat propped against a pillow, her arms crossed over her bandaged ribs. Her eyes were distant but focused. Across from her, Ann fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve, biting her lip.
Ryuji leaned on a crutch, nursing his ankle, while Yusuke sat half-draped over a chair, eyes wide with quiet awe—as if he were still painting the images he'd seen inside that mirrored realm in his mind.
Futaba sat on a stool, laptop closed, knees hugged to her chest. Even she wasn't talking much tonight.
Ren stood at the center of them all. Still silent. Still holding everything together.
Tae Takemi finished rewrapping Haru's arm, then took a step back, leaning against her desk with folded arms. She didn't speak. Not yet. She wanted to hear what they would say—how far they'd changed.
Ann was the first to break the silence. Her voice came out soft, trembling but clear.
"I saw myself in a stage dressing room… Alone. The mirrors were cracked. My reflection wasn't even me—it was someone trying to be perfect for everyone else. I—" she swallowed, "—I think I've been afraid. That if I let go, I'll become someone else entirely."
Makoto glanced over, eyes warming. "I understand. I... didn't just fight shadows in there. I fought versions of myself. The me that's always in control. The one too afraid to admit what I really feel."
She looked at Ren as she spoke, but said nothing more. She didn't need to.
Yusuke's voice followed, more abstract. "My chamber was like a studio… but it was drowning in color. Overwhelming. And my reflection said… I paint with desire now. Not discipline. I think… it frightened me, but thrilled me too."
Ren caught that. So did Takemi.
Ryuji chuckled weakly from his corner, breaking the mood. "Man… mine was like a damn locker room. Old track posters, broken trophies. My shadow was pissed. Said I was a fake. Not strong enough to handle being a guy… or now a girl. Said I was hiding. And honestly?" She glanced down at herself, hand curling around her thigh. "I kinda get it."
A silence followed. Not uncomfortable—just heavy with realization.
Futaba finally broke it with a mumble. "Mine wasn't about me. Not really. I saw you guys. Every one of you. Together. Closer. Touching. Kissing. I think… the place pulled something from me I didn't know was there."
She looked down, embarrassed.
"And I didn't hate it."
Ren moved to sit beside her. "I don't think any of us are coming out of this unchanged."
He looked around at the others, their eyes flickering toward him, waiting. Wanting.
Takemi finally spoke, her voice low and even.
"What you're describing… it's not just a mental effect. Your bonds are growing stronger. More intimate. It's psychological, emotional… and physical. This could be the work of a new collective shadow—or something older. Deeper."
Ren nodded. "We'll need to go back in. But not before we're ready."
Makoto straightened slightly, her face unreadable. "And not before we talk more openly. No more pretending."
"Agreed," Yusuke said, his fingers already sketching across the air.
"Hell yeah," Ryuji added, voice firm despite her injury.
Futaba nodded.
Ann hesitated for a moment, then locked eyes with Ren. "Then maybe we should start now. Together."
The team looked around at one another.
And this time, no one looked away.