The warm scent of polished wood and aged paper filled the air as seven-year-old Hikaru Shinomura stumbled into the back room of his family's antique shop, clutching a small mirror in both hands. The ornate frame of the mirror gleamed under the soft yellow glow of the overhead lamp, its surface reflecting his wide-eyed curiosity and a hint of a sheepish grin.

"Careful, Hikaru," his father's gentle voice echoed behind him. "That one is fragile."

"I know, Dad," Hikaru said with a determined nod, steadying his grip. "Where should I put it?"

"Follow me," his father replied, opening a sliding wooden door to reveal a room unlike any other in the shop.

Hikaru froze in awe. The room was lined with mirrors of every shape and size. Rectangular mirrors leaned against the walls, round ones hung like paintings, and small hand mirrors were arranged meticulously on shelves. The entire room seemed alive with reflections, creating an endless labyrinth of light and shadow. In the center of the room sat a single wooden chair, old but well-kept, its surface smooth from years of use.

"Why are there so many mirrors here?" Hikaru asked, his voice hushed with wonder.

His father chuckled softly, stepping into the room and motioning for Hikaru to follow. "This is where I keep the special ones—the ones that have stories."

"Stories?" Hikaru's eyes lit up with curiosity as he placed the small mirror carefully on a nearby shelf. "How can a mirror have a story?"

His father knelt beside him, brushing a hand over the back of the chair in the center of the room. "When I was your age, I used to sit here, right in this chair, whenever I felt lonely or sad." He smiled, his gaze distant as though he were seeing another time entirely. "I'd look into the mirrors and imagine another version of myself staring back. Someone braver, stronger—someone who could face the things I couldn't."

Hikaru tilted his head, trying to picture it. "Did it work?"

"It did," his father said, his smile growing. "Sometimes, it felt like that other me understood things I couldn't say out loud. It was... comforting, knowing that no matter how I felt, I was never really alone."

Hikaru turned to one of the mirrors on the wall, peering into his own reflection. He stuck out his tongue, and the boy in the mirror did the same. "Do you think there's really another me in there?"

His father ruffled Hikaru's hair with a chuckle. "Who knows? Mirrors are mysterious things. Maybe they show us more than just our faces. Maybe, if you look closely enough, you'll find a part of yourself you've never met before."

Hikaru frowned thoughtfully, staring into the mirror as if expecting his reflection to wink back. "That's kinda cool," he muttered.

His father laughed again. "Come on, let's finish setting up before your mother finds out we've been slacking."

As they left the room, Hikaru glanced back one last time. The chair in the middle of the mirrors seemed to call to him, its presence oddly inviting.

To Be Continue.