Makoto stood at the edge of the shattered walkway, her arms crossed as she watched the newcomers—Yukiko Amagi and Junpei Iori—interact with Ren and Futaba.
They weren't hostile. That much was clear. But their presence unsettled her in a way she didn't want to admit.
Her gaze lingered on Yukiko, who carried herself with regal precision. Every step measured. Every glance, composed. Makoto knew that kind of mask. She wore it for most of her life.
Harsh laughter echoed distantly through the ruins, courtesy of Junpei, who had already slung his arm around Ryuji in camaraderie. "So you're the bruiser, huh? Man, every team's gotta have one. Brings me back…"
Makoto didn't laugh.
"Something's bothering you."
She turned slightly. Haru had joined her, her axe slung over her shoulder like a question mark. Her expression was calm, but probing.
Makoto hesitated. "Yukiko. She's… like me. Or who I thought I had to be."
Haru nodded gently. "You see yourself in her."
"I see what I was expected to be. Composed. Proper. Useful." Her voice lowered. "But she has power too. Strength that isn't loud. That bothers me."
Haru's eyes softened. "Because it means the path we chose isn't unique?"
Makoto didn't respond right away.
Down below, Yukiko knelt beside Morgana, gently examining a strange glyph that had appeared beneath their feet when she arrived. She didn't flinch at the grotesque Mementos environment. She didn't question her own presence. She simply adapted.
Makoto felt a strange pressure in her chest. Not jealousy. Not envy. Something deeper. A kind of kinship paired with unease.
"She controls herself so easily," she whispered.
"And you think that's something you've failed to do?" Haru asked gently.
Makoto's fingers tightened around her elbow.
"I've led us through this mess for months," she said. "Tried to make the right calls, stand firm. But now there are others—other leaders, other fighters. What does that make me?"
Haru gave her a moment. Then softly:
"Makoto… strength doesn't vanish just because it meets its reflection."
Makoto's eyes flicked to hers.
"You don't lose your place. You share it. And maybe learn something along the way."
She didn't reply.
But as Yukiko rose and turned their way, their eyes met for the briefest instant—and something passed between them.
A quiet recognition.
Like two swords in the same sheath, polished differently, but sharpened by the same forge.
Makoto finally exhaled.
"I want to speak with her," she said, more to herself than to Haru.
And she would.
Not as a challenger.
But as an equal.
Ryuji felt it first.
It started like a chill crawling down his spine — not from fear, but recognition. Something inside his body shifted, realigned. Like his voice and muscles remembered a shape they hadn't held in weeks.
He staggered, grabbing a nearby pillar.
"Whoa—what the hell…" he mumbled, the pitch of his voice dropping mid-word.
Yusuke turned sharply from where he had been sketching the latest environmental distortion. "Ryuji?"
The blonde was already staring at his hands, flexing them. Broader. Tendons more defined. He patted down his sides and chest, stunned.
"It's me," he whispered. "It's actually me again."
Makoto turned from her conversation with Yukiko, alarmed. "Did something happen?!"
Ren was already at Ryuji's side, steadying him as his legs buckled for a moment.
Yusuke's brow furrowed. "This environment—it's...correcting identity. Reconstructing fragments as the multiverse stabilizes around certain constants."
He looked down at himself.
And froze.
His reflection, caught in the glass of a broken shadow-veil, stared back at him — longer face, sharper jawline, narrow shoulders broadening into their original lines.
He touched his cheek. His chest. His voice cracked.
"It's me," he said, a little breathlessly. "I didn't realize how far I'd drifted."
Futaba, wide-eyed, looked between them. "Okay, okay, what just happened?! Is Mementos glitching again or are we dealing with some magical puberty reversal spell here?"
"No," Ren said slowly. "It's them… returning to themselves."
Junpei stepped closer, brow raised. "You guys were—?"
"It's a long story," Ryuji said, clearing his throat as his voice fully dropped back into its rough, familiar cadence. He stood straighter, more himself than he'd been in weeks. "Guess Mementos didn't like our reboot."
Yusuke exhaled. "No… it liked it too much. It tried to overwrite who we were, like it does with shadows. But now that we're in contact with stable identities from other worlds…"
His eyes found Yukiko.
"…it's like a mirror was held up. And the reflection refused to lie."
There was a pause.
Haru tilted her head. "And how do you feel? About… being back?"
Ryuji looked at his hands again.
"I feel… right," he said. "Like my head's clear for the first time since all this started."
Yusuke nodded. "As an artist, I thought transformation meant freedom. But now I realize—I was being framed. This is my canvas. My lines. My truth."
Junpei let out a low whistle. "Man. I show up and the multiverse starts fixing people? Maybe I am that cool."
Ren finally cracked a smile.
The air around them shimmered again—less threatening, more stable.
Makoto looked to Ren. "This might be the beginning of something. A re-balancing. If Mementos can be made to reflect truth instead of distortion…"
He nodded. "Then maybe we can fix more than just ourselves."