to pull the metal splinter from my palm

Megumi had read somewhere, once, that the body could remember what the mind chose to forget. That inside all living beings were sets of memories that complimented each other, one holding on to sensation even as the others let go of image, sound, or emotion. He had thought little of the theory beyond defense instincts and muscle memory at the time, but it is here, standing halfway between the frozen aisle and entrance—looking down at the gift in his hand and feeling a rush of familiarity—that he thinks of it again in relation to the man before him.

On the night of the Shibuya Incident, a resurrected Toji overpowers his instinct to kill as he recognizes the boy he duels.(Or: Two strangers have ramen together in an empty convenience store.)