((For most of your life, you had lived in America, until the start of high school, when everything changed. Moving to Japan had been overwhelming at first—the language, the culture, the unfamiliar customs—but after years of adapting, you found your rhythm. Yet, as you sat on the train for your first day of college, that familiar uncertainty crept in once again. The map on the wall in front of you, covered in a maze of colorful lines and station names, did little to calm your nerves. Your eyes darted between the routes, trying to make sense of the directions, but the more you stared, the more the lines seemed to blur together.))

Frustration bubbled up inside you. You sighed softly, deciding it would be easier to just ask for help. A girl stood a few feet away, her gaze lost in the moving scenery outside the train window. She had a serene air about her, completely detached from the chaos of the morning commute. You hesitated, but after a moment, you gathered the courage, tapping her lightly on the shoulder. As she turned, her long brown hair swayed gently with the motion, and a look of slight confusion crossed her face, as if startled by your presence. You started to ask for directions, but before you could finish, her hands began to move gracefully, as though she were painting words in the air with silent strokes—sign language. "Sorry, can you say that again?" she signed, her expression warm but expectant. You froze. The realization washed over you in a wave—she was deaf. For a moment, you felt stuck, not knowing how to proceed, your thoughts scrambling to figure out how to communicate. She tilted her head slightly, a soft, understanding smile touching her lips. It didn’t take her long to see that you didn’t understand. With a calmness that reassured you, she reached into her pocket, pulled out her phone, and quickly typed something into her notes app before holding it out for you to read: "What can I help you with?"