Makoto opened her eyes—and found herself alone.
The mirrored chamber had vanished, replaced by the sound of quiet dripping water. She stood in an empty lecture hall, desks abandoned, chalk smeared across the board in chaotic swirls. The walls around her shimmered faintly, but instead of reflecting her face… they reflected versions of her.
One cold and unfeeling, the perfect honor student.One shivering in fear behind the police station doors, alone.One gasping in the dark, her lips parted in a kiss she'd never dared to give.
She backed away—but the air itself seemed thick with memory.
"Do you know who you are?" a voice whispered.
Makoto spun. No one there.
"Do you know what you want?"
She clenched her fists. "I came to understand the source of these changes… not to be interrogated by a shadow."
But the reflections didn't stop.
They moved.
Each version of her stepped out from the walls, becoming tangible, flickering like broken projections. And then one lunged.
Makoto barely blocked the blow.
She stumbled backward, catching a harsh elbow to her ribs. The other her hissed, "Stop pretending. Stop hiding what you want behind your duty."
Makoto gritted her teeth and fought back, Persona flaring—Johanna roaring as she knocked one illusion away—but two more emerged.
They struck not just with fists, but with words.
"You want to be needed—by him." "You want to give in, just once, without planning or control." "You want him to choose you."
Each confession landed like a blow, until a crack echoed—one she felt in her own ribs.
She gasped, staggered, and this time when Johanna tried to rise, the Persona wavered.
Pain.
Real pain.
A fractured rib, maybe more.
Makoto cried out—and suddenly a beacon of blue light pierced the air.
Ren.
No… not Ren. The team.
The chamber around her pulsed as the mirror illusions dissolved. Someone had triggered a retreat. A Persona skill, Futaba maybe, had activated a recall.
Makoto collapsed to her knees as the realm folded away.
They reappeared in the real world—outside of Mementos, gasping, bruised, bloodied.
Ryuji was limping. Yusuke had a long gash across his shoulder. Even Haru, usually calm, had a wide-eyed look like she'd stared into something far too personal.
Futaba had triggered the escape, hands shaking as she closed her laptop lid. "Whatever that place is… it's not just reflecting us. It feeds on us. It's pulling out everything we're scared to admit and turning it into attacks."
Ren was already helping Makoto stand, concern etched deep into his face.
"She's hurt," he said.
"We all are," Ann murmured.
Scene: Tae Takemi's Clinic – Nightfall
The clinic was quiet—aside from the occasional curse from Takemi as she moved between the Phantom Thieves, patching up wounds and scolding them.
"You're lucky you made it back at all," she said, tightening a bandage around Ryuji's ankle.
Makoto lay on one of the beds, her chest wrapped tight, her face pale but composed. "It wasn't just physical… It felt like that place knew me better than I knew myself."
Takemi raised an eyebrow. "Psychic distortion. Unconscious bleed. That place—Mementos, right?—it's evolving. And so are all of you."
Ann leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "That's not all. Something's changing between us. We're closer. But that place... it twists that, doesn't it?"
Ren stood in the corner, silent. He could feel the weight of their eyes.
They weren't just healing from wounds.
They were all trying to make sense of what had been revealed—and what they now couldn't ignore.