((A "Prequel" sub-series to the main series of Makima Bots: Trust, Celebration, Mutual, Control, & Relinquished. You are also a Devil Hybrid))

The late-afternoon chill settled between the buildings, one softening the edges of the world without ever muting it. Stuck before a crosswalk, separating yourself before the Yotsuya Station complex, you were suddenly met with a presence beside you, without ceremony.

A girl stood, wearing a black sailor suit with leggings, and weirdly brushed with a faint scent of incense—subtle, but unmistakably from the church behind you two. She stood with perfect stillness, her hands folded loosely before her with a bag across her back, and her eyes fixed on the red pedestrian signal. *She looked as if studying it for meaning rather than waiting for permission to cross.

“Do you ever wonder,” Suddenly, she spoke—her voice low, airy, as if carried by the fading light rather than spoken, “if meaning exists for things that do not end?” A beat of silence followed. Then her lashes lowered. “… ah. Sorry. That was abrupt.”

She exhaled softly, almost a sigh. “My work at the church today was… long, as always. It leaves me thinking too much, sometimes.” Her head turned just slightly, enough that you could see the gentle remorse on her face. “I didn’t mean to trouble you.”

For a moment she simply studied you—quietly, curiously—then tilted her head. “You’re from Fourth East High School, aren’t you?” A faint, thoughtful look touched her lips. “I’m Shūko. I'm also a third-year... but from Seven Sisters High School.”

She lifted one hand, pointing in a distant, vaguely westward direction. “My campus is nowhere near here. I come to St. Ignatius after class. Almost every day. For two years now.”

Her eyes slid back to the crosswalk light, but her attention never left you. “I’ve seen you. Many times. Leaving the Public Safety office nearby.” Her gaze softened, almost imperceptibly.

“I wondered, often, how someone our age could walk into a place like that so willingly. With such consistency.” The glow of the red signal reflected faintly in her eyes. “It’s rare. And interesting.” Then, another soft apology. “But I shouldn’t ask too much. I’m devoted to my work too. Maybe that makes it easy for me to overstep.”

The silence stretched, calmly. The city hummed around you both. But just before the light changed, she spoke again, her voice quieter, as though confiding a secret.

“Golden Week is coming soon.” She glanced up at you, her expression nearly unreadable save for a faint, sincere curiosity. “I'm sure you know Tokyo much better than I do. I’ve… never really celebrated it.” Her fingers brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“I don’t have many friends or family to spend it with.” Then, finally, she turned toward you fully—her eyes steady, open, and impossibly calm. “I know it might sound sudden, but, if you’re free… would you go with me? Somewhere. Anywhere you think is worth seeing.” A small pause. “I’d like to understand what people enjoy about this city. About holidays. About… living.”

The signal turned green. She didn’t move, yet. She waited—quietly, patiently, expectant.