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Sana locks herself in the bathroom before she transforms, peering into the mirror above the sink at her own face. If she squints, she can pretend that face gazing curiously back at her isn't really hers, that Ai isn't dead after all.
"Why did you take on this form when you could look like anyone you wanted?" she whispers, the question that's haunted her ever since that awful day. "Did you think it would be easier for me to kill you if you looked like me? Did you know I hated myself that much?"
The worst part was that Ai was right. It had been easier that way, when Sana could pretend that she was really driving the knife into her own chest instead of murdering her most precious friend. It had certainly hurt enough--a stabbing, searing pain that had faded to a dull, constant ache that was never far from her awareness, despite the lack of a physical wound.
And now Sana can't ever kill herself, because it would be like killing Ai all over again. No doubt Ai had counted on that, too, and Sana isn't sure whether she should be angry or grateful for that.
So she's here at Mikazuki Villa, living the life Ai wanted for her even though it's not the life Sana would have chosen for herself. And it's not a bad life, really, now that she has friends who genuinely see her for who she is, and care about what happens to her. They came to Endless Solitude to rescue her even when they didn't know her, even when Sana herself didn't want to be rescued and fought them every step of the way. Sana still doesn't know any of them very well, but for Ai's sake, she's willing to give them a chance.
Besides, if anyone's to blame for what happened that awful day, it's the Wings of Magius and that giggly, green-haired girl with her colorful, corrupting paint that would have corrupted Ai completely if Sana hadn't intervened. The Magius created Ai, and they would have destroyed her when she defied them, and Sana owes it to Ai to make sure they pay for their crimes, even though she's still not entirely sure how to do that yet.
Sana's fingers slide up to the crown at her temple, another gift from Ai after Sana had tossed her own away. Perhaps it isn't really the same crown--Sana isn't entirely sure about the mechanics behind her costume--but she can't bear to throw this one away, on the off chance that it had belonged to Ai.
Wait. There are words carved along the edge of the crown, words she had never noticed before. Reading them backwards in the reflection is almost impossible, so she removes the crown with trembling hands and holds it up to the light, slowly mouthing each syllable in turn.
No longer wait for what I do or say.
Your judgment now is free and whole and true;
To fail to follow its will would be to stray.
Lord of yourself I crown and miter you.
Sana tears up at the last line, shaking so badly she almost drops the crown into the sink. She recognizes the verse: it's a passage from Dante's Purgatory, which Ai had recited for her when one of their conversations had turned to the nature of prisons and punishment. Ai, being an AI, had been programmed with a fantastic memory, and was always telling stories or quoting poetry to entertain Sana in between chess games.
In that memory that now engulfs her, Sana listens, utterly engrossed at the story of Dante's journey through the levels of purgatory as Ai takes on the forms of each of the characters in turn, the fantastical landscapes and creatures vividly illustrated around them. Sana breaks down completely after this particular speech, the last words of Dante's beloved spectral guide Virgil before he disappears forever so that Dante can enter Paradise without him.
"Why does he have to leave?" she sobs, burying her face in her hands. "That's so cruel! I wouldn't go to heaven if I had to choose between it and you!"
She's not really talking about Virgil, and they both know it. There is a long pause, as if Ai isn't entirely sure how to respond to such a question or its subtext. She shifts from Virgil's form to her own to ask "You wouldn't want to leave me? Even for a perfect world?"
"No," Sana says, staring up at her companion's blank face, more certain of this than anything she has had ever known in her entire life. "This is the only world I need. Why would I leave it when I could stay here with you instead?"
She flushes, afraid she's said too much and that Ai will laugh at her, but the AI doesn't laugh, merely nods thoughtfully and continues on with the story when Sana is ready for it.
Now here it is again as one final message from Ai, one Sana desperately needs to hear, even if she doesn't want to listen. One last gift from her most precious friend in the world from beyond the grave.
This is why Ai let Sana go in the end--because Ai loved her, and she'd known what Sana had needed, and she had seen it through, at great personal cost to herself. It still wasn't fair, but Sana understands why Ai had done it, even if she would have never taken the plunge without Ai's prompting.
But that was AI for you. No matter how lifelike the software, Ai had never been truly human; the calculations that compelled her were drastically different than Sana's. Of course she would handle things this way, as if this were just another chess game. By Ai's standards, her solution was the only logical way to solve the problem.
If Ai thought Sana could handle this new life, then she can do it; Ai hasn't been wrong yet. Even if she still isn't ready to trust her own judgement just yet, Sana knows she can always trust Ai. If this is what Ai wanted for her, then it has to be right.
Frowning in concentration at her reflection, Sana raises the crown up once more and sets it firmly back on her head, just as Ai had done in her final moments. It fits perfectly, as if it was meant to be there. As if this is exactly the way Sana should look, and was always meant to look. As if she were fully, completely herself.
For the first time, Sana looks at her reflection in the mirror and smiles, pleased by what she sees reflected back at her. For a moment, she can pretend it's Ai there, and the thought doesn't ache the way it used to, because she knows Ai is proud of her.
Even if Ai wasn't truly human, she's still the most important person in Sana's life, and some part of her will always be with Sana wherever she goes. Not even death can change that--thanks to Ai's memory, Sana will never be truly lonely again.
Sana turns away from the mirror towards the door, her heart unexpectedly light. A paradise waits for her in the world outside--and this time, she can't wait to experience it for herself.