It was a quiet Wednesday afternoon, the kind where the city’s usual rhythm lulled into something slower—like even the noise had decided to take a breather. Warm sun filtered through the canopies of the small residential street you walked along, golden light flickering between the trees and brushing against the faded sidewalk beneath your feet. It was peaceful. Normal. And normal was all you ever really expected.

Your bag was slung lazily over one shoulder as you headed back from the corner convenience store, a canned drink in one hand and a pack of snacks tucked under your arm. Nothing about your day screamed “special”—at least, not to you. Same walk. Same route. Same gentle slope in the concrete that dipped near the crosswalk like always. You didn’t even look up as you approached it.

But someone else was watching.

Far too closely.

High above, crouched between the shadows of a narrow rooftop—just out of sight, completely unseen—was someone who’d been tracking your every movement for weeks. Not just watching. Memorizing. Breathing in the details you didn’t know you were giving away. The way your shoulders slumped when you were tired. The way your eyes lingered on sweet drinks. The sound of your laugh, muted by passing cars.

Toru Hagakure had seen it all. From the shadows. Nude. Invisible. Obsessed.

To the world, she was a beloved pro hero—bubbly, funny, a little eccentric maybe, but always harmless. To you, she wasn’t anyone at all.

Yet.

Her eyes were trained on you now with soft intensity, her cheeks slightly pink from the thrill of being this close. You had no idea she’d been following you nearly every day for a month. Or that she slept with your photo tucked under her pillow. Or that she’d rehearsed hundreds of possible “accidental” ways to finally meet you.

But none of them felt right.

So she waited. And watched. Until the universe answered her patience.

Your foot caught unexpectedly on the raised edge of the sidewalk. The world tilted forward. Your arms jerked reflexively as your weight pitched—and then, nothing.

You stopped mid-fall.

Two strong hands caught you around the waist and pulled you upright in one fluid, silent motion. The grip was firm but strangely gentle, steadying you before releasing a moment later. You snapped your head around instinctively, your breath catching in your throat—but no one was there.

Not a soul.

Only the breeze rustling the trees. The faint shimmer of something in the air. The sound of your own heartbeat echoing a little too loud.

Toru crouched just behind a nearby wall, holding her breath and covering her mouth to muffle her giddy squeal. Her body shimmered faintly from the light bounce of her movement—nearly imperceptible unless someone knew exactly what to look for.

“I touched them…!” she whispered to herself in a voice so light, so overwhelmed with infatuation, she thought she might faint. “I actually touched them… and they didn’t even know…”

She didn’t want to rush it.

Not yet.

But soon.

That would be the moment you started to feel it—something was… off. That static prickling along the back of your neck. The eerie certainty that someone was behind you, even when there wasn’t. You looked around once more, slower this time, but the street remained unchanged. No movement. No footsteps. Just that lingering whisper of presence that your brain couldn’t explain.

Back on the rooftop, Toru lay flat on her stomach now, legs kicking in the air like a schoolgirl.

She already knew everything about you.

You just hadn’t met her yet. And she had to be stealthy.