Kaito grunted, the muscles in his back straining as he held the glowing mirror against the overwhelming tide of darkness. The shadow tendrils were like solid ice, freezing and burning his suit wherever they touched. He was a dam holding back an ocean of rage, and he was beginning to crack.
Behind him, Aiko saw it all with a terrifying clarity. Kaito was fighting the spirit's power, but he couldn't fight its pain. And the pain was the source of its power. Trying to defeat the Onryō with force was like trying to punch a hurricane.
She knew what she had to do. It was the most insane, reckless, and dangerous idea of her life.
"Kaito," she said, her voice calm and clear. "It's okay. You can lower the shield."
"Aiko, no!" he growled, not daring to look away from the reflection in the mirror. "Get back!"
She didn't listen. She took a deep breath and did the unthinkable. She stepped out from behind the shelter of his body, placing herself directly in the path of the dark doorway.
Then, she reached up and unclasped the protective charm from her neck. She held the small, woven object in her hand for a moment before placing it gently on the floor. She was dropping her armor. She was making herself completely, utterly vulnerable.
The psychic screaming in her mind intensified as the Onryō focused its full, venomous attention on her. The shadow tendrils recoiled from Kaito and writhed in the air before her, like snakes ready to strike.
Aiko didn't flinch. She closed her eyes and reached out, not with her hands, but with her mind. She didn't project strength or authority. She projected something the spirit had likely never felt before. Pure, unconditional empathy.
I see you, Aiko sent, her thought a gentle whisper against the storm of rage. I hear you. You must have been so terribly lonely.
The psychic screaming faltered. The writhing tendrils hesitated. In the mirror, Kaito could see the girl's face twist in confusion. This was new.
Aiko pressed on, opening her own heart to the tormented spirit. She projected the memory of her own quiet, grey loneliness at the convenience store, the feeling of watching the world from behind a glass wall. I was lonely, too, she shared.
Then, she shared the other feelings. The sleepy warmth of the happy teapot. The playful curiosity of the Zashiki-warashi. And then, the steady, fierce, protective warmth she felt from Kaito—the feeling of his jacket on her shoulders, the memory of his hand in hers, the vow he had made in the secret garden. She didn't send these as a boast, but as a simple, honest truth. But then I found a family. I found a home.
She felt the Onryō's rage begin to crumble, like a dam breaking. Beneath the centuries of hatred was a vast, bottomless ocean of pure, childish sadness. The screaming in her mind became a choked, heartbroken sob. The black tendrils of shadow dissolved into a harmless mist.
In the mirror's reflection, the scene changed. The girl's face was no longer a mask of hate. It was the face of a lost, weeping child. Tears, black as ink, streamed down her pale cheeks. The oppressive cold in the room began to lift, replaced by a profound, heart-wrenching sorrow.
Aiko had broken through the monster and found the girl trapped inside.
She opened her eyes and took a step towards the dark doorway. She held out her hand, her palm open and unafraid.
You don't have to be alone in this room anymore, she projected, her thought now a gentle, steady beacon of hope. The ones who hurt you are gone. It's over. It's time to go.
The weeping in her mind subsided into a quiet, shuddering exhaustion. In the mirror, Kaito watched as the ghost of the girl looked from his face to Aiko's. And then, slowly, she looked at Aiko's outstretched hand.
The bottomless black pits of her eyes began to fade, and for the first time, a tiny, flickering spark of something that looked like hope appeared within them.