He stood before it, watching his own reflection splinter — not into fragments of glass, but into memories. Each shard held a failure: a word unsaid, a hand unclenched, a city he had watched burn from a safe distance. And yet, he smiled.
“Is this what you wanted?” the mirror whispered. Hametsu no Ganbou Daiisshou
No answer came. Only the sound of his own heartbeat, syncing with the slow collapse of the floor beneath him. He stood before it, watching his own reflection
He reached into the largest shard and pulled out a black flower — petals made of ash, roots made of regret. It bloomed in his palm, and with it bloomed the first note of a song that had no end. He stood before it