Chapter 2: Train at Dusk

The train was crowded again. I clutched the strap of my bag tightly, my fingers turning white. I tried to make myself as small as possible, pressing against the wall, hoping nobody would notice me. My long lavender dress brushed against my ankles. My cardigan was buttoned all the way to the neck, as always. My eyes were fixed on the floor. Just survive the ride home.

I tried to calm my breathing, but the train lurched suddenly, and someone bumped into me. That wasn’t unusual. The train was full of people, all rushing somewhere. But then…a hand pressed against me.

Not accidentally.

It lingered, brushing over me in a way that made my stomach twist. I froze. My mind screamed at me to move, to push it away, to shout—but my voice refused to work. My fingers gripped my bag as if it could protect me. My heart thudded so hard I thought it might burst.

I shut my eyes and willed the world to disappear. I always wished that, didn’t I? That I could melt into nothing and escape being noticed. But now I wanted to be noticed—just not like this.

And then—sharp, sudden, and impossible to ignore—a kick hit the man behind me.

He stumbled, yelping, and I blinked. My heart jumped.

“Don’t touch her.”

The voice was calm, controlled, yet firm. It sliced through the noise of the train like sunlight through fog. I lifted my head slowly.

There she was.

A girl older than me, standing a few feet away. White shirt, black pants, hair loose around her shoulders. Calm eyes, steady and unwavering, that somehow made the crowded train feel smaller, safer. My chest fluttered. My stomach tightened. My breath caught.

She didn’t yell. She didn’t push. She just stood there. Solid. Steady. Unmovable. The man muttered something under his breath, trying to straighten himself, but the girl didn’t even look at him again. Her presence was enough. He finally shuffled away, muttering, looking embarrassed and defeated.

And I just…stared.

I wanted to speak. I wanted to thank her, maybe even ask her name. But my voice was gone. My lips wouldn’t move. I was rooted to the spot, heart hammering, fingers trembling around my bag. The warmth that spread through me wasn’t fear, and it wasn’t just relief—it was something soft, something fluttering, that made my chest feel full in a way I hadn’t realized it could.

Her eyes flicked toward me. A small smile, almost shy, tugged at the corner of her lips. It wasn’t grand or dramatic—it was quiet, simple, and it made my heart skip a beat. My stomach twisted in a strange way, half-surprise, half…something I didn’t know yet.

And then she turned and walked away.

Just like that.

I wanted to call out to her, but the words got lost somewhere between my throat and my chest. She disappeared into the press of people, leaving me pressed against the wall, heart racing, staring after her.

The rest of the ride passed in a blur. Every bump of the train, every footstep of the passengers, every swish of a bag reminded me of her presence, though she was gone. Her calm, steady aura. Her eyes. The small, impossible smile. The way she had just…stood there and protected me without hesitation.

By the time I reached my stop, the sun was dipping behind the buildings. Warm golden light spilled across the street. I walked home slowly, dragging my feet, trying to make sense of the fluttering in my chest. Why did her smile stay with me? Why did I feel…lighter, somehow, though only for a moment?

When I finally stepped inside my quiet home, I pressed my hands to my cheeks, still flushed from fear and relief and that strange fluttering feeling. I didn’t know her name. I didn’t know why my chest felt like it might burst. All I knew was that someone had noticed me today, really noticed me, and I hadn’t been crushed for it.

Maybe…maybe tomorrow could be different, I thought as I slid my backpack off my shoulders. Maybe the world didn’t always have to feel so heavy.

And for the first time in a long time, I let myself hope.

Her name, I reminded myself silently, was Yoru.

Even though I had never heard it aloud, it felt right already.