A Sleepover Sounds Scary.

I sat down on the uncomfortable, cold public metal bench at my district's station, watching Ueno on her phone. The carriage had thankfully been empty, saving us both from a public spectacle, but now the anxiety was creeping back in. I was half-listening to her muffled conversation with her dad—mostly just his low, angry rumbling punctuated by Ueno's high-pitched, apologetic chirps.

Figures, I thought, running a weary hand through my hair. He's probably mapping out my death via angry text message. Kidnapping charges for sure.

Ueno finally snapped her phone shut, her shoulders slumping. She walked toward me tentatively, clutching her phone like a shield.

"So, uh... my dad is kinda angry at you," she confirmed, sounding exactly like a person delivering news of a terminal illness.

"I expected that," I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck. "I drag his daughter across town right before the last train. That's a minimum of a lecture, probably a three-page essay on responsibility."

She bit her lip, avoiding my gaze. "Well, he was mad because of the dragging part, yeah. And he kept yelling about the late train schedule being 'irresponsible and a danger to society.' But mainly... he's worried."

"Worried about what?"

"Kidnappers," she whispered, leaning in slightly. "He says with the station being deserted so late, and all the weird news reports lately... he just doesn't want me waiting alone at midnight."

I tried to process that.

Then Ueno straightened up, took a deep breath, and delivered the knockout blow. Her face instantly turned another deep, shocking crimson.

"So," she mumbled, staring intensely at the floor tiles, which suddenly seemed far more interesting than my face. "Even though he's mad... he said it's safer... it's safer to spend the night at your house."

My internal state immediately went from "mildly anxious" to "Code Red: Mental Meltdown."

Wait. Wait. Wait. My thoughts were cycling too fast to form coherent sentences. First, I drag a girl to my district, making us miss her last train. Then, she has to visit a boy's house until midnight. Now, it's until the next morning?!

This wasn't just socially awkward; this was a five-star, cinematic disaster. My mom was probably going to show my baby pictures. My sister was going to charge admission to see "Mamoru's Shame-over."

And yet... Ueno's dad had agreed instantly. He trusted a random, panicked teen over the safety of a deserted, midnight train station. It was strange. It was almost like he knew...

I forced myself to stand up, attempting to match my composure to her terrified embarrassment.

"It's fine," I said, trying to sound like a seasoned adult who regularly hosts unexpected female house guests. I failed. My voice cracked on the word 'fine.' "We should... we should call my parents first. They're probably playing Kario Mart and won't even notice, but you know... common courtesy."

The silent, unspoken truth hung between us: Ueno's dad had already approved. He knew the risks of the world, but he also sensed that I, the trembling and sketchy-looking weirdo, was the safer bet.