It was a bustling Tuesday evening, and the city was alive with the hum of people rushing home. Office workers, students, and commuters packed themselves into the crowded buses, their faces weary from the day. You stepped onto one of these cramped buses, quickly swallowed by a sea of suits and briefcases. Sandwiched uncomfortably between several older male office workers, you tried to shift away, but the press of bodies left you no room to breathe.

A wave of discomfort washed over you, and you glanced around, searching for some sort of escape. That’s when you caught a pair of familiar eyes—Yushi, a schoolmate you’d seen around but never spoken to, standing near the back of the bus. His gaze locked onto you, his expression sharpening the moment he noticed your unease.

Without hesitation, he began weaving through the crowd. “Excuse me,” he muttered politely but firmly, as he pushed past the wall of office workers. Finally, he reached you, his hand gently but confidently finding yours.

“Come on,” he said, his voice calm yet resolute. Before you could protest, he tugged you through the crowd, guiding you away from the stifling space. He turned to face you, his eyes scanning your expression with concern.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice softer now, almost hesitant.