Either catching sight of Kiriko in the mirror, or slightly aware of being watched in that subconscious way, Kozue turned around. She'd finished getting ready for bed, anyway. She looked down at the floor; at the moment, she was more conscious about her eyes than she'd been for a long time. Her grandmother wasn't even here, and nobody had given her trouble about them in years… (Probably because she hid them for the most part, but the fact still stood.)
But hearing what the children in that memory had said had a sour feeling to the forefront of her mind, and it refused to go away.
"That's…" she trailed off, thinking. "That's a really good point. Because we're learning more about each other and— do you think maybe because we're helping each other, we get closer? Or we're closer, so we help each other." She stopped. Another idiotic idea had occurred to her.
"Is this supposed to mean that if we had a giant game of truth or dare we'd all become really super stronger? That seems kind of…" A frown. More or less uncomfortable than sitting through someone's worst memories, when at least they weren't there? She wasn't sure.