It started as a flicker.
A subtle shimmer in the air — like light passing through water — and then the pull.
Ren barely had time to process it.
Ryuji gasped behind him, stumbling forward. "What the—?!"
The voice was unfamiliar. Higher. Still rough around the edges, but wrong.
Ren spun around.
Ryuji stood there, blinking, hands flying to her—her—face, chest, sides. Her blonde hair had grown just slightly longer, framing her sharper cheekbones. Her armor had shifted with her, clumsily readjusting to her new form.
"What the hell just happened to my—?!" she choked, clutching her now visibly changed figure. "Dude—am I—?!"
Yusuke stepped forward, wincing as his hand clutched his temple. "My perception—my frame—this is not the body I knew—"
He, too, had changed. Longer limbs, more delicate features, his artist's hands now slender and foreign to him. His kimono-clad silhouette had subtly shifted in the folds, hinting at the transformation even before he looked down and froze.
"Oh," he whispered. "This is…"
Junpei—who had just been mid-joke with Ryuji a moment ago—was now reeling, staring down at herself with wild eyes. Her ball cap slipped sideways, and the faintest outlines of panic traced her expression.
"Someone tell me I didn't just—what is going on?!"
Ren's heart pounded. He stepped back, scanning the group, waiting for some cosmic punchline.
But he felt nothing.
No change.
No pull.
He was still Ren Amamiya. Unaltered. The eye of the storm.
Morgana let out a groan—his human form blinking into existence beside them in a flash of blue light. He opened his mouth to complain, but then stared down at himself.
"Oh, come on! Again?! I just got used to legs!"
Ren moved quickly, catching Morgana before she toppled over in surprise.
Futaba, wide-eyed, glanced between them. "Is this some kind of... gender distortion field? Because, guys, this is textbook dimensional interference. Like a cosmic mislabeling."
Makoto frowned, her hand going to her communicator. "This might be part of Mementos recalibrating. It's testing identity on a base level."
Haru gave a slow nod. "Like a stress test. To see which selves endure."
Ryuji—now Ryuko, at least in name—grumbled, glaring at the void around them. "Why does Mementos keep messing with me?!"
Ren stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. "Because it knows we're here. All of us. And it's not just reflecting people anymore—it's rewriting them."
Yusuke—now graceful, quiet, and visibly shaken—nodded. "It's art without an audience. Creation without consent."
Junpei cursed under her breath. "So what? We're stuck like this until the universe has its fun?"
"No," Ren said quietly. "We fight it. Together."
Despite everything, the others slowly looked to him. Still him. The only one untouched.
Futaba's voice was barely above a whisper. "Why didn't you change?"
Ren didn't answer.
Because deep down, he knew.
Mementos had tried to rewrite him, too.
But there was nothing to overwrite.
His sense of self was already an anomaly — forged not in certainty, but in rebellion.