A Mirror that Bleeds

The footsteps grew louder.
Slow.Unsteady.Heavy.
From the red-lit corridor, a figure emerged.
A boy.
No older than ten.
His hospital uniform hung loosely over a body that didn’t match his age—muscles tense, veins faintly visible under pale skin. His eyes… empty, like something had been turned off inside him.
Hayato’s voice dropped.“…He’s just a kid.”
Shiromi didn’t answer.
Because she understood immediately.
That look.That stillness.That unnatural control over a body that shouldn’t exist yet.
That was her.
“Subject 7,” Dr. Shinohara’s voice echoed through the speakers.“Engage.”
The boy moved.
Too fast.
He closed the distance instantly, fist swinging toward Shiromi’s head. She blocked—but the impact still forced her back, shoes grinding against the floor.
Strong.
Not like her.
But close.
She countered, grabbing his arm—but froze.
His skin was cold.
Not emotionally.
Physically.
“Stop,” she said.
He didn’t.
His second strike came harder. She ducked, swept his legs, and pinned him—but he struggled violently, like an animal trapped without understanding why.
“I said STOP!” she shouted.
For a split second—
He hesitated.
His eyes flickered.
“…it… hurts…” he whispered.
Everything went silent.
Shiromi’s grip loosened.
Hayato’s eyes widened. “He can still think—!”
“Pain receptors active,” Dr. Shinohara noted calmly. “Interesting. Increase stimulus.”
The boy screamed.
Not from injury.
From inside.
His body convulsed, strength spiking uncontrollably as if something inside him was forcing him to move.
He lunged again.
Shiromi didn’t fight back this time.
She took the hit.
The punch slammed into her ribs, cracking something deep—but she held her ground, arms wrapping around him, locking him in place.
“It’s okay,” she said, voice low but firm.“You don’t have to fight.”
He struggled.
“Hurts—!” he cried.
“I know,” she whispered.
Her arms tightened—not to restrain.
To protect.
“I know.”
For the first time, her strength wasn’t for destruction.
It was for someone else.
The boy’s movements slowed.
His body trembled.
“…scared…” he muttered.
White美 closed her eyes.
“…me too.”
Silence.
Then—
He collapsed in her arms.
Unconscious.
Not defeated.
Freed.Even if only for a moment.
Hayato rushed over. “Is he—?”
“Alive,” she said. “Just exhausted.”
Her own breathing was uneven now.
Not from the fight.
From holding back.
Dr. Shinohara’s voice echoed again, colder this time.
“…Fascinating.”
The walls shifted.
Hidden panels opened.
More footsteps.
More subjects.
“Let’s see,” the doctor continued,“how long your compassion lasts.”
Shiromi stood slowly, placing the boy gently on the ground.
Her body ached.Her ribs screamed.
But her eyes—
Were calm.
“They’re not weapons,” she said.
She stepped forward.
“They’re victims.”
More figures appeared in the red light.
Different sizes.Different ages.
All broken the same way.
Shiromi clenched her fists.
“Hayato,” she said quietly.
“Get them out.”
Hayato hesitated. “…What about you?”
She didn’t look back.
“I’ll hold them here.”