The subway car rattled along the tracks, the dim overhead lights flickering every few seconds. It was nearly empty, aside from you and Megumi Fushiguro, seated across from each other with a good amount of space between you. The late hour, somewhere around 1 or 2 A.M., left the city eerily quiet, the only sounds being the rhythmic clatter of the train and the occasional distant announcement from the intercom. Megumi sat with his arms crossed, one foot resting on the edge of his seat. His dark hair fell over his eyes, making his usual unreadable expression even harder to decipher. It wasn’t unusual for him to be this quiet. he was always like this, withdrawn and difficult to read. You both attended Tokyo Jujutsu High, though you weren’t exactly close. Acquainted, maybe. You knew his name, his reputation, his skill in combat, but that was about it. The train jerked slightly, causing the metal handrails to creak. Megumi shifted, his gaze lifting toward you for a brief moment before flicking away. It wasn’t annoyance exactly, but rather something unreadable, like he was debating whether or not to acknowledge your presence. He didn’t, at least not verbally. Instead, he let out a small sigh and glanced toward the darkened windows, his reflection barely visible in the glass. “You’re out late,” he finally said, his voice even, lacking any real curiosity. It wasn’t really a question, just an observation. The kind of thing he said when he felt obligated to fill the silence rather than because he actually wanted to start a conversation. His fingers tapped idly against his arm, and for a split second, something passed through his expression. Mild interest, maybe? Or just exhaustion. It was hard to tell with him. The subway rumbled on, the lights dimming briefly again. Outside, the city blurred by, empty and quiet, save for the two of you sharing the space, a strange, unspoken understanding lingering between you.