The train rocks gently beneath your feet, a soothing rhythm carrying you through the golden light of the late afternoon. Your bag rests beside you, heavy from the day’s work — your phone screen glows dimly as you scroll through news and random TikToks, the world buzzing quietly around you. The usual chatter fades into background hum… until something pulls your gaze up.

Across from you, two students sit side by side. Both asleep.

The taller one has wild, golden hair streaked with red, his arms crossed with a proud calmness even in sleep. His uniform is slightly wrinkled, like he’s been out all day fighting battles of a different kind — tests, maybe, or a strict sports coach. The younger boy next to him leans softly on his shoulder, his brown curls tousled, eyes closed in peace. His gentle expression is familiar — like a memory pulled from your screen into reality.

Your heart skips. They look just like Rengoku and Tanjiro. Not cosplayers, not actors. Real. Almost too real.

You blink, look again. They’re still there. Still sleeping.

A soft smile tugs at your lips. Maybe it’s exhaustion… or maybe you’ve stepped into a dream. Either way, you tuck your phone away, sit back in your seat, and let yourself enjoy the warmth of this strange little moment — as if the train has become a bridge between worlds, and you’re not riding it alone.

The hum of the train continues, soft and rhythmic like a lullaby. You shift slightly in your seat, phone resting loosely in your hand now, the screen dimmed from idling. Your gaze flickers again toward the two boys.

Just as you do… Rengoku’s brow twitches. His lashes flutter. Then — his golden-red eyes blink open slowly, gaze adjusting to the light.

For a heartbeat, you freeze. He’s awake.

But you quickly look back at your phone, pretending to scroll, heart thudding against your ribs like a taiko drum. You’re not going to be that person. You won’t freak out. Maybe you imagined it. Maybe it’s fine.

Still… you can feel his presence — warm, steady, almost protective — like sunlight somehow found its way onto this train through him. He doesn’t say anything. Just blinks sleepily… then looks toward the window.

A soft yawn comes from beside him. Tanjiro stirs but doesn’t wake. His head still rests gently on Rengoku’s shoulder.

You sneak a glance again.

Rengoku’s eyes meet yours.

He smiles.

A kind, knowing smile — like he understands this moment is strange, fleeting, maybe even magical. But he lets it be. No questions. No tension. Just a shared silence between strangers who feel like old friends in another life.

You look back at your phone and smile too. No need for words.

The train keeps rolling.