The mirror showed someone Leo was still getting used to.
Not a stranger. Just a version of himself he was still learning to recognize as real.
He stood in the center of his room, dressed in the formal crimson and black attire Iori had commissioned. The fabric sat well on his frame, fitted at the shoulders and chest and falling clean to his boots. The crimson brought warmth to his complexion, while the black trim kept it sharp. Small details, but they mattered in rooms where everything was a signal.
His hands looked different in the mirror. Wider. More calloused. Scarred along the knuckles from the tournament and along the forearms from everything before that. His neck and jaw carried more definition than they had a month ago. His posture had changed without him consciously deciding to change it. His shoulders were back, his weight balanced, nothing braced or hunched against anticipated impact.
The face was recognizably his, but the body it belonged to had been built here.
