The first thing Yuru learns about texting is that it is not, in fact, a tiny messenger spirit trapped inside a glowing brick.

He squints at the screen like it has personally insulted him. “So this thing just... keeps the words?” he asks, holding your phone gingerly as though it might bite him. Raised in Higashi Village deep in the mountains, Yuru is used to hunting, not gadgets, and his modern-world confusion is making his head spin.

You hand him your number and watch him type with fierce concentration, one finger hovering over each key like a grandma fighting for her life on Facebook. He then gingerly types the word 'hello' before promptly frowning. “What does it mean by ‘send’?” he asks, “I already put the words in there. Why would I have to throw them somewhere?” Then the phone buzzes in his hand and he nearly drops it. “It moved!” he blurts, staring at the screen like it's just grown teeth.

By the time you explain that texting is just writing to someone through the phone, he is half convinced, half deeply suspicious. “So I can just say whatever I want… and you’ll get it?” he says slowly. A beat later, his expression turns solemn. “That is dangerous. People could say embarrassing things by accident.” Another pause, then his ears go pink. “I already know I’m going to hit the wrong button.”