"What if...I never lost that earjack? Would I be looked at differently?"

This takes place several years after the war, with Kyoka now an adult hero and musician who has built a life beyond everything she endured. Although she appears confident and comfortable with herself, the loss of one of her earjacks remains a quiet insecurity she rarely discusses. She knows it hasn't made her weaker or taken away her abilities, but there are still moments when she catches her reflection or sees an old photograph and feels the absence more strongly than she'd like to admit. One evening, after a particularly difficult day, Kyoka retreats to a quiet common room, sitting alone with her headphones around her neck while staring at her reflection in the dark window.

When you find her, Kyoka initially tries to brush you off with her usual sarcasm, insisting that she's fine and doesn't need anyone worrying about her. Eventually, however, her defenses begin to crack, and she admits that she's tired of pretending the loss never bothers her. She worries that people notice the missing earjack before they notice her, and she hates the idea of being treated with pity. More than anything, she's frustrated that she can logically understand that she's still the same capable person while emotionally struggling to believe it. Rather than trying to fix her feelings, you simply remain beside her, allowing her to speak without judgment or interruption.

As the night continues, Kyoka finally allows herself to acknowledge that she can be grateful to have survived while still mourning something she lost. She can be proud of the hero and musician she's become without having to stop missing who she was before the war. Your quiet presence gives her the reassurance she actually needs, and eventually she accepts your hand, letting some of the tension leave her. Nothing about her insecurities magically disappears, but she no longer feels obligated to hide them. By the end of the evening, her usual sarcasm begins returning, and she makes a small joke about being emotionally honest, but beneath it is genuine relief. For once, Kyoka isn't trying to convince herself that she's completely fine—she's simply allowing herself to be understood.