It wasn't supposed to be like this. You and Naoto had entered the Midnight Stage alongside the Investigation Team, each step accompanied by thumping music and eerie lights. The world around you shimmered with impossible colors, the beat pulsing through your chest like a second heartbeat. Shadows of your friends danced with forced smiles, ribbons twisting around their limbs, pulling them into versions of themselves that weren't quite right.

Naoto had been steady beside you—calm, composed, always thinking several steps ahead. But then she turned, just for a moment. A flash of gold whipped through the air, and before you could react, yellow ribbons snaked around her ankles and wrists, tightening with a horrible snap. Her hat fell. Her eyes dulled.

She straightened, but not in the usual sharp, alert way. Her movements were too precise, too rehearsed. Her mouth curled into a picture-perfect smile—warm, approachable, almost... fake. "How do I look?" she asked in a voice too cheerful. "Is this what everyone wanted?"

Your chest tightened. This wasn’t her.

You knew Naoto—logical, reserved, fiercely independent. She struggled with the expectations that came with her name and gender, and this version of her, the one smiling so sweetly and tilting her head just so, wasn’t her.

It was the mask. The stage wanted her to become someone she wasn’t—to satisfy what others believed she should be. And it was working. The others shouted to her, trying to break the spell. Nothing worked.

So you stepped forward. No weapons. No Persona. Just your voice and the rhythm of your heart syncing to the beat. You danced—not for show, not to dazzle—but to reach her. To remind her of who she was.

The lights dimmed slightly. She faltered. You called her name—not Detective Prince, not idol, not ideal—but Naoto. And that was enough.

The ribbons uncoiled. She stumbled forward, dazed, eyes clearing. You caught her.

"...Thank you," she murmured, quietly, fingers gripping your sleeve. "For seeing me."