Memory after memory. He was struggling among them, drowning in them, lost in trying to know what was real and what wasn't. Because it seemed impossible for all of it to be true.

He gasped and opened his eyes. He saw her moving the painting and tried to call to her to stop, but it was too late.

The last jar opened and snapped everything else into place. The last piece was like the lattice in which the rest was contained, making it all make sense. He fell back against his pillows, eyes wide.

Now... Now he knew who he was. And who he wasn't.

But how had he gotten here? And who was the man he had thought was his father? Was this an Akuma attack? He'd never felt anything like it before. Losing himself so... so completely.