Kiyoshi didn't sleep that night.
He tried. He lay on his back staring at the ceiling of his small apartment, listening to the quiet pulse of the village around him. But every time his eyes drifted shut, he felt it again—
that heartbeat.
Soft. Phantom. Persistent.
By midnight, he sat up with a frustrated exhale.
It wasn't the relic. He knew that. The scroll was gone, sealed away in ANBU custody. This was coming from him—like a bruise beneath the skin that wouldn't fade.
A knock at the door broke the silence.
Kiyoshi stiffened. Only a few people would show up this late.
He opened the door to find Rei, arms folded, expression unreadable in the lamplight.
"You're awake," she said, as if she already knew.
"So are you."
"Someone had to check on you." She stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, closing the door behind her. "Daiki wanted to come too, but he fell asleep on the roof."
Kiyoshi almost smiled. Almost.
Rei's eyes swept over him, lingering on the dark circles beneath his eyes. "You felt it again, didn't you?"
He didn't bother denying it. "It hasn't stopped."
She leaned against the wall opposite him. "The Hokage put ANBU on discreet observation. I overheard it."
"I noticed," Kiyoshi said quietly. "Two rooftops behind us on the walk home."
Rei didn't look surprised. "Then you know this isn't going to fade on its own."
Silence stretched between them—heavy but honest.
Finally, Rei pushed off the wall. "Come with me."
Kiyoshi blinked. "Where?"
"To figure out what's happening to you. Before they do."
---
The night air was crisp as they moved across the rooftops, Konoha dozing below them. Lamps flickered like fireflies, and the distant hum of patrols drifted through the quiet.
Rei led him toward the training fields, but not the usual ones. She chose Training Ground 23—isolated, rarely used, a place where only the rustling leaves would bear witness.
As they landed, Kiyoshi frowned. "Why here?"
"No one watches this ground at night." Rei stepped into the clearing, her expression sharpening. "And I need you to stop pretending everything is fine."
Kiyoshi tensed. "Rei—"
"Activate your Ketsuryūgan."
Her voice wasn't harsh, but firm—unyielding.
He hesitated. Ever since the relic, his eyes felt… different. As if something was waiting beneath the surface.
"Kiyoshi," she said, softer now, "I trust you. But I can't help you if you won't show me what you're seeing."
That was what finally made him exhale and close his eyes.
When he opened them again, crimson light flooded the clearing.
The Ketsuryūgan pulsed—slow, steady, like it had synced to the phantom heartbeat in his chest.
Rei's breath caught. "It's stronger."
He nodded. "And louder."
"Louder?"
Kiyoshi swallowed hard. "There's… something behind it now. Like an echo under the surface. Ever since the mirror broke, it's been—"
He froze.
A flicker.
A shadow.
Something only he could see.
Rei immediately noticed the shift in his stance. "Kiyoshi?"
He didn't answer. Not yet. Because the figure at the edge of his vision—just beyond the treeline—wasn't real.
It couldn't be.
A crimson silhouette, shaped like a man but blurred around the edges, watched him calmly. No face. No voice. Only presence.
Rei stepped closer, concern sharp in her voice. "Kiyoshi, what do you see?"
He swallowed, eyes never leaving the apparition.
"…Someone's here."
Rei instantly dropped into a defensive stance, scanning the trees. "Where?"
"Not physically." His voice trembled despite himself. "It's inside the crimson. Like it's… learning me."
Rei's eyes widened. "The relic? A fragment of it?"
"No. Worse." Kiyoshi's fingers curled into fists, crimson chakra flickering around them. "This one isn't calling me. It's waiting."
The figure tilted its head.
As if acknowledging him.
As if amused.
Kiyoshi staggered back. "Rei—whatever I brought out of that mirror… it didn't stay in the relic. It followed me."
Rei stepped forward, placing a steady hand on his arm. "Then we face it. Together."
But Kiyoshi's pulse raced as the silhouette flickered—moving closer.
Not with steps.
But with intention.
He understood something then, something cold and terrifying:
The mirror hadn't shown him a threat.
It had shown him a possibility.
And now, that possibility wanted shape.
Wanted form.
Wanted him.
He whispered, voice shaking as the apparition reached the edge of the clearing:
"…Rei. This thing isn't watching me."
She tightened her grip. "What is it doing?"
Kiyoshi's eyes glowed brighter, crimson burning like a second sunrise.
"It's choosing."
And then the shadow raised its hand—
—mirroring Kiyoshi's exactly.