Ryoko stood frozen, staring into the mirror.
Her reflection no longer mirrored her. It moved on its own—smiling, blinking, tilting its head with a quiet mockery. But it wasn't just a distortion.
It was her.
But not.
The girl in the mirror had golden eyes. Like Shino. Like the girl from her lost memories.
"Sister," the reflection whispered.
Ryoko's knees buckled, but she gripped the edge of the sink.
"No. This isn't real."
"But it is," the reflection insisted. "You just forgot."
Suddenly, the room began to shimmer and dissolve into light. Ryoko blinked—and found herself not in her apartment, but standing in the middle of a burned-down house.
Ashes crumbled under her feet.
She turned—and saw a five-year-old version of herself standing in the flames, screaming for help.
Then another child—a girl with the same face but golden eyes—grabbed her hand and said, "We have to run, Ryoko!"
---
Haratu drove through the quiet city streets with Natsuki beside him, both tense with anticipation.
"Have we found anything about the woman with Shino?" Haratu asked.
"Nothing," Natsuki replied. "She doesn't exist in any record. But there's something else."
She passed him a photocopy.
It was a page from Morita's final case file. A prophecy-like entry:
> "When the twin flames awaken, the Spiral shall fracture… or consume the world entirely."
"Twin flames?" Haratu muttered.
"I think Ryoko and Shino were both marked from birth," Natsuki said. "The fire wasn't just a tragedy. It was a ritual."
Haratu's grip on the steering wheel tightened.
"Then they were chosen. For something neither of them consented to."
---
Inside the vision, Ryoko chased the burning memory—desperate to recall the truth.
She saw flashes of her parents—warm smiles, kind voices—and then strangers in dark cloaks standing outside their house with torches.
One chanted words in an ancient tongue. Another held up a spiral sigil glowing with red light.
The fire consumed everything. Her mother screamed her name.
And then—someone carried her out.
Not Shino. Not her parents.
A man in black robes.
With a silver eye etched onto his palm.
---
In the present, Ryoko snapped awake.
She was back in her apartment, panting, heart racing. But her hands trembled for another reason—because she remembered.
Shino wasn't her enemy.
She was her sister.
They had been separated by that fire. Torn apart.
And someone had wanted it that way.
---
Elsewhere, Shino stood in front of the woman in black. The flames in her palms danced, showing her what Ryoko had just seen.
"She remembers," the woman said.
Shino nodded.
"Then it is time," the woman continued. "For the Cycle to begin again. But this time, one of the twins must choose."
Shino hesitated.
"She's not ready," she whispered.
The woman tilted her head.
"But you are, aren't you?"
Shino closed her hands and extinguished the fire.
"I'll bring her to me. But not with force."
The woman's smile was cold.
"You have one chance."
---
Haratu and Ryoko met in the quiet backroom of the investigation bureau. Haratu noticed the exhaustion in her eyes.
"You remember."
Ryoko nodded.
"I remember everything. The fire. My sister. The cloaked figures."
"Then Shino is your sister?" Haratu asked softly.
"Yes," Ryoko said, her voice trembling. "And we were part of something far older than us. Something that calls itself the Eye."
Haratu leaned back, eyes narrowing.
"That name again."
"They're not just a cult," Ryoko said. "They're the origin of the Spiral Cycle. They started it centuries ago. And now they want us to end it—or become it."
Haratu stayed silent for a moment.
Then said, "Then let's end it. Together."
---
That night, as the wind howled through the city streets, a letter arrived at Ryoko's door.
It was sealed in crimson wax.
She opened it.
Inside was a single sentence:
"Come to where it all began. Alone."
And beneath it—a spiral drawn in ash.
The sky above was soaked in twilight as Ryoko arrived at the ruins.
The old orphanage, hidden beyond the outskirts of the city, stood like a corpse of memory. Its stone skeleton was covered in vines, its wooden beams scorched black from fire long past.
She stepped through the broken gates.
Every creak, every rustle in the leaves whispered her name.
Inside, the air smelled of ash and age. The floor was unstable, but she knew where she had to go—the old underground chamber. The place where she'd once been hidden. The place her memories had sealed away.
She descended the stairs.
At the base, a flame flickered.
Shino stood there.
Not in shadow, not cloaked in mystery—but plainly, fully, visibly herself. Her long dark hair flowed behind her, and her golden eyes shimmered with pain.
"You came," Shino said.
"You asked me to," Ryoko replied.
They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of years pressing down like gravity.
"We were here once," Ryoko said slowly. "Before the fire."
Shino nodded. "They told us to forget. That forgetting would protect us."
"But it didn't," Ryoko said bitterly. "It only made me hate you."
Shino stepped forward. "I never hated you. I wanted to save you from it."
Ryoko's breath caught. "From what?"
Shino raised her hand, and the stone wall behind them pulsed.
The spiral mark appeared, glowing red, and then—opened.
Behind it lay a cavern filled with symbols and stone altars. At the center: a pool of dark water that shimmered with stars.
"This is the origin of the Cycle," Shino whispered. "It's not just a curse. It's a machine. One designed to measure sin and justice by sacrifice."
Ryoko stared, horrified. "This… is where they kill people."
"No," Shino said, shaking her head. "This is where they decide who lives and who dies."
---
Meanwhile, Haratu and Natsuki stood outside the orphanage. They had tracked Ryoko's location through the GPS chip hidden in her badge.
"She's inside," Haratu said.
"But she's not alone," Natsuki added. "There's someone else. And… something else."
The temperature around them dropped. The wind stopped.
And then—dozens of crows took flight from the trees, spiraling into the sky.
Haratu's eyes widened. "It's beginning again."
---
In the chamber below, Ryoko approached the pool.
Inside it, she saw visions.
A man being murdered by his own son.
A woman pushing a stranger off a building.
A killer crying at the edge of a river.
"Every murder, every victim, every execution—it all echoes through this," Shino said. "The Eye watches. And the Spiral enforces."
"And you're part of this?" Ryoko whispered.
"I was born into it. Like you," Shino replied. "But I want to break it."
Ryoko turned to her. "Then why lure me here?"
"Because we need to decide," Shino said. "Together. Only twins of the fire can end the Spiral. One has to sacrifice her bond… or herself."
A tremor rippled through the chamber.
From the shadows, the woman in black appeared.
"I told you, Shino. No hesitation."
Shino stepped in front of Ryoko. "I said I'd bring her, not betray her."
The woman's smile widened. "Then you're no longer useful."
She raised her hand, and the Spiral Pool began to rise, forming a monstrous shape of eyes and limbs—a reflection of the Spiral itself.
Ryoko grabbed Shino's hand. "Then let's burn it down."
---
Above, Haratu burst into the building, finding the staircase hidden behind the old altar.
"Ryoko!" he shouted.
He ran down—just as the ground cracked beneath him and the chamber below began to quake.
---
Below, Ryoko and Shino ignited their shared fire—two halves of the same ancient flame.
The monster screeched, lashing out with tendrils of darkness.
Ryoko dodged, her left arm glowing with golden fire.
Shino struck, slicing through shadow with her flame-forged blade.
The woman in black screamed, "You can't stop the Spiral! You are its children!"
"No," Ryoko said coldly. "We were its prisoners. But not anymore."
Together, she and Shino unleashed their full strength.
The spiral collapsed in on itself—imploding with a deafening roar of light and sound.
And then—silence.
Silence settled in the chamber like ash.
The swirling vortex of the Spiral had vanished, consumed in light and flame. The monstrous limbs had dissolved, and the pool of memory lay still—its surface now a quiet mirror.
Ryoko collapsed to her knees, breath ragged, hand still warm from the fire she'd conjured.
Shino staggered beside her, eyes wide with shock. "We… did it," she whispered.
From the ruins above, stone crumbled. Dust rained down as Haratu leapt the final few steps, landing beside them. His eyes darted between the girls, then the shattered Spiral altar.
"You brought it down," he said.
Ryoko nodded, looking up at him. "But not alone."
Haratu helped her to her feet, then extended a hand to Shino.
She hesitated, then took it.
For a brief second, there was peace.
Then—
A low pulse echoed through the chamber. The water shimmered. The air bent unnaturally.
A cold voice whispered from the darkness: "One Spiral dies… another awakens."
From the broken altar, mist curled upward, forming a tall figure cloaked in grey. His face was masked, his voice like static and silk.
"I am Judge Aeon," he said. "Executor of Balance. Harbinger of the Spiral's rebirth."
Haratu stepped forward, shielding the girls. "We destroyed your altar."
"Altar, yes," Aeon said calmly. "But not law. The Cycle was not born of magic—it was born of mankind's sin. And as long as guilt stains your hearts, I will return."
Ryoko clenched her fists. "You want to punish us for choices we didn't make."
"No," Aeon replied. "I only continue what you began. Every act of vengeance, every murder repaid by murder—it was you who gave birth to the Spiral."
Shino whispered, "Then how do we end it?"
Aeon's gaze turned to her. "You must erase the root. Not the system. Not the faces. But the origin."
"The first sin," Ryoko breathed.
Haratu's eyes narrowed. "And where do we find that?"
Aeon stepped back into the mist. "In the city's foundation. In the blood beneath the law you protect."
Then—he vanished.
---
Outside, dawn broke over the city.
Police sirens wailed faintly in the distance, but the air was still. No birds sang.
Haratu, Ryoko, and Shino stepped out of the ruins, each carrying their own wounds—and something else: a shared truth.
"It's not over," Ryoko said.
Haratu nodded. "But now we know what we're fighting."
Shino looked toward the skyline, where the first rays of sun touched the tallest tower—the Justice Hall.
"That's where it began," she said quietly. "And that's where it must end."
---
Across the city, a meeting took place in an underground hall.
Six figures stood around a circular table. Only one showed his face: a young man with pale skin, bright silver hair, and crimson eyes that shimmered with strange amusement.
He set a file down on the table.
"Haratu Sota," he said. "The detective who broke the Spiral's altar."
Another cloaked figure hissed, "We underestimated the girl too. Shino Kurobane."
"And now," the silver-haired man said, flipping open another page, "we have Ryoko Tanaka. Spiral-borne… yet defiant."
"Shall we eliminate them?" asked a third figure.
The silver-haired man smiled. "No. We let them come. The game has begun. And the final judge is waiting."
He stood, walking toward the shadows.
"The first Spiral wasn't in this century," he whispered. "It was a thousand years ago, carved in stone and sacrifice. And the truth was buried beneath the city."
He paused.
"They're about to dig it up."