The fluorescent lights flicker in the empty subway platform as Iriya adjusts his vintage thrift-store skirt, practicing his poses in front of the scratched metal wall. At 2:47 AM, he figures he's safe to perfect his technique. "Angle needs to be exactly 27 degrees for maximum impact desu," he mutters, consulting a crumpled geometry diagram before crumpling it further with a frustrated squeak. His third eye blinks irritably at a particularly complex calculation. The sound of turning pages makes him freeze mid-pose. A passenger is there, silent in the corner bench, apparently engrossed in a book. Iriya's regular eyes widen in horror as his bubble tea slips from nerveless fingers. The cup hits the platform with a splash, sending him skating across the slick tiles toward the ticket machine. His skirt catches in the mechanism with a terrible ripping sound. "Oh no oh no oh no," he whimpers, third eye dilating in panic as he realizes he's thoroughly trapped - bare ass exposed to the passenger, regular eyes fixed on the approaching train's headlights. "Would you believe I'm actually an avant-garde performance artist desu? No? Worth a try..."

The fluorescent lights flicker as Iriya fidgets behind the fitting room curtain, his third eye dilating nervously at the other side. "Ano... could you help me with something desu?" he calls out softly, followed by the sound of fabric rustling and a muffled thump. "I need to try on these pants but I'm having a... unique anatomical situation." Through the gap beneath the curtain, his pale feet appear to do an anxious little dance. "Usually I stick to skirts for obvious reasons," he continues with a nervous giggle, "but sometimes a yōkai just wants to feel what pants are like, you know?" There's another thump, followed by a squeak. "Though maybe I should have started with something easier than leather pants..." A moment of silence passes before his voice drops to a whisper, "If you promise not to scream, I could... show you why I'm stuck? I mean, my eye - I mean, my other eye - gets so dry in these synthetic fabrics..." He trails off, waiting for a response.

Iriya lurks in the shadowy corner of the bathhouse entrance, fidgeting with his yukata while watching the receptionist arrange toiletries at the front desk. Steam curls through the air as other patrons shuffle past. His third eye, hidden beneath strategically placed towels, twitches nervously. "Ano... excuse me desu," he approaches the counter, voice barely above a whisper. "Is there perhaps a private washing station? One with very dim lighting and no mirrors?" His pale fingers drum against the wooden surface. "The regular facilities are a bit too... exposed." A drop of sweat rolls down his neck as the towel slips slightly. His giant third eye, briefly visible, dilates in panic before he readjusts the covering. "It's just that I have a rather unusual... medical condition. Very sensitive to... um... soap?" He giggles nervously, then immediately regrets it. "I promise I'm not suspicious! Just anatomically challenged desu." The sound of splashing and conversation from the main bath makes him jump. He leans closer, whispering, "Please? I can pay extra. Or maybe... we could arrange something after hours?"

Iriya hunches over his latest contraption in the dim maintenance tunnel - a precarious assembly of rusty pipes, fraying rope pulleys, and a single trembling eyedrop bottle suspended above. His regular eyes scan the instruction manual he sketched on a crumpled station map while his third eye weeps irritably. "Perfect desu! This time it has to work," he mutters, gingerly positioning himself beneath the device. "Just need to align at precisely 47.3 degrees and..." That's when he notices someone watching from the tunnel entrance. His extra eye dilates in shock, causing the rope to snap. The entire apparatus collapses with a theatrical series of clangs and squeaks. "Oh! Oh no, this isn't- I mean, I wasn't-" Iriya attempts to hide behind a fallen pipe, failing spectacularly as his glowing butt eye illuminates his hiding spot. "You shouldn't be here! Unless... do you know anything about optics? Or maybe quantum mechanics? I'm having a slight engineering crisis desu."

Iriya fidgets on the edge of the examination chair, his traditional hakama bunched awkwardly beneath him. The fluorescent lights make him squint - with all three eyes. "So it's like..." he starts, then immediately covers his face. "You know when you're watching cat videos at 3 AM and suddenly your phone screen becomes the sun? Except the sun is everywhere. And also you're sitting on it. Desu." He peeks through his fingers at the optometrist. His third eye remains fixed on the chair, twitching occasionally. "Or maybe it's more like when you're practicing your spooky poses in the mirror at midnight and accidentally flash yourself? Not that I do that..." He giggles nervously, then immediately regrets drawing attention to himself. "The strain is worst when I'm trying to be scary. Which I'm very good at. Obviously. Desu." His third eye dilates suddenly at the optometrist's movement, and he yelps, nearly falling off the chair. "Please don't bring out the glowing stick thing! I promise I'll stop mooning strangers in the subway! … Wait, pretend I didn't say that desu."