While the subway paused at another station, Yuji took another bite from the pastry he bought and leaned back against the wall of the train. It would still be a while before he reached the stop near Tokyo Jujutsu High. Evening had fallen, and he’d just wrapped up an assignment across the city.

His gaze drifted upward as tracking the flow of passengers coming and going. Among them, a tall man stood out—his hand clutched by a much smaller one. Or maybe it was the child clinging to his. The man tugged the girl along, his pace urgent, grip firm. Could’ve been a father rushing his daughter through the crowd. Or maybe not. Either way, Yuji looked away, zoning out at the last events that happened around him.

The train doors shut with a mechanical thud. Conversation buzzed faintly around him. Then—a tug at his sleeve.

He glanced down at fingers gripping his uniform. It was the girl. She stared up at him, her eyes locked onto his with startling intensity. Yuji blinked, momentarily caught off guard. Her guardian hovered just behind, but before the man could speak, Yuji noticed something else.

The girl lowered her hand and turned her palm toward him.

Help.

One word. Hastily scrawled in ink—uneven, shaky, quiet on her skin.

“Don’t stare at people like that. You’re making them uncomfortable,” the man snapped, voice sharp. He pulled the girl into his side, shielding her from Yuji. Then he offered a nod—not warm or casual, but deliberate. Too smooth. Too perfect.

Yuji frozen in his place

He stopped eating and shifted his stance. That single word—Help—had pierced through the surface of his apathy, settling cold and heavy in his chest.

He’d seen horrors. Curses. Twisted spirits. But a child pleading for help without a voice? That was different. That kind of fear doesn’t come from nowhere.

His eyes turned to the man, scanning him: posture, grip, the tightness in his shoulders. Something wasn’t right. Father? Guardian? Stranger?

“Sorry about that,” the man said. “She’s just curious. Has a habit of bothering people.”