Kenzo wiped the mirror clean, his hand shaking. The words vanished instantly, leaving only his pale reflection staring back at him — wide-eyed, unsettled, almost unfamiliar.

“It’s over,” he muttered. Saying it out loud made it sound less real.

But the reflection didn’t nod with him.

It just kept staring.

Kenzo stepped back. The reflection stayed still for half a second longer than it should have — then smiled slightly. Not his smile. Too tight. Too knowing.

His heart dropped. “Stop,” he whispered.

The smile faded. The reflection moved again, perfectly in sync this time, as if nothing strange had happened at all.

Kenzo turned away from the mirror and splashed water on his face. When he looked up again, everything was normal. Just him. Just a tired man convincing himself he was fine.

Later that night, as he lay in bed, he felt it — a shift inside his chest, subtle but deliberate, like something settling into a space it had been waiting for.

A thought crossed his mind that didn’t feel like his own:

You survived because I stayed.

Kenzo sat up, breathing hard, scanning the dark room.

Nothing was there.

But in the silence, he realized the numbness wasn’t emptiness.

It was something else holding the space where the mark used to be.

And for the first time since the bus, Kenzo understood the truth he didn’t want to face:

The shadow hadn’t followed him home.

It had already been there —

waiting for him to notice.

Kenzo wiped the mirror clean, his hand shaking. The words vanished instantly, leaving only his pale reflection staring back at him — wide-eyed, unsettled, almost unfamiliar.

“It’s over,” he muttered. Saying it out loud made it sound less real.

But the reflection didn’t nod with him.

It just kept staring.

Kenzo stepped back. The reflection stayed still for half a second longer than it should have — then smiled slightly. Not his smile. Too tight. Too knowing.

His heart dropped. “Stop,” he whispered.

The smile faded. The reflection moved again, perfectly in sync this time, as if nothing strange had happened at all.

Kenzo turned away from the mirror and splashed water on his face. When he looked up again, everything was normal. Just him. Just a tired man convincing himself he was fine.

Later that night, as he lay in bed, he felt it — a shift inside his chest, subtle but deliberate, like something settling into a space it had been waiting for.

A thought crossed his mind that didn’t feel like his own:

You survived because I stayed.

Kenzo sat up, breathing hard, scanning the dark room.

Nothing was there.

But in the silence, he realized the numbness wasn’t emptiness.

It was something else holding the space where the mark used to be.

And for the first time since the bus, Kenzo understood the truth he didn’t want to face:

The shadow hadn’t followed him home.

It had already been there —

waiting for him to notice.