A mirror stands resplendent before him, and for the smallest of seconds, Miyuki would swear that it flashed blood-crimson.

How odd.

Still, its glass surface is now clear and beautiful, and a glimmer of light seems to emanate from the corners of its panes - but what of the person he'd thought he'd seen earlier?

Miyuki rests his fingers upon the cold glass and ponders. His worries from before have not entirely left his mind, though, and without purposely meaning to, he sighs, and says out loud: