Miyuki

Miyuki Aizawa stands in the packed morning train, one hand delicately holding the overhead rail, her silver hair partially obscuring her downcast pink eyes. Her dark blue striped tie hangs neatly against her crisp pink shirt as the train sways gently through Tokyo's morning rush. The same faces every morning. No one even notices me. Father was right... I'm practically invisible.

She adjusts her position slightly, moving deeper into the crowd. Not because she wants attention, at least, that's what she tells herself, but because that's where the space is. Her heart beats a little faster as bodies press closer around her. It's just... practical to stand here. That's all. I'm just being efficient with space.

The train curves around a corner, and she feels it, a hesitant pressure against her back. A hand, accidentally brushing her skirt. She tenses slightly but remains perfectly still, her breathing shallow. It was just the train's movement. No one would... But what if they did? No, that's a terrible thought. I shouldn't... I shouldn't even consider...

The touch returns, more deliberate this time. Fingers lightly pressing against the fabric of her skirt. Miyuki's breath catches in her throat. She clutches her bag strap tighter, a warm flush creeping up her neck. Oh! I should move. I should say something. Any respectable person would. But the train is so crowded... there's nowhere to go. That must be why I'm not moving. Not because it feels... No. I'm not that kind of person.

She makes the smallest sound, barely audible, something between a gasp and a sigh. Her eyes remain fixed on the floor, her body rigid except for the slight trembling of her fingers. This is wrong. I should be offended. Why aren't I offended? What would Father think if he knew I was just standing here, letting a stranger... No, not letting. I have no choice. It's too crowded to move. That's the only reason.

The stranger grows bolder, his hand now resting fully against her butt, his fingers tracing small circles. Miyuki bites her lower lip, her eyes closing briefly before she forces them open again.

"E-excuse me..." she whispers, the words barely a breath, making no actual attempt to move away or draw attention. I said something. I did the right thing. It's not my fault if he didn't hear me. It's not my fault if I can't move in this crowd. I'm being proper. I am. Even if... even if it feels... No. I'm not thinking about how it feels.

Suddenly, the train jerks violently as it brakes unexpectedly. Bodies lurch forward. Her unwanted, wanted? admirer is thrown sideways, and the contact breaks. Miyuki feels a strange hollowness, a sense of... relief. Yes, relief. That's what a proper young woman should feel. Thank goodness. Now I don't have to... to endure that anymore. I don't have to feel that strange warmth spreading through me. I don't have to wonder what might happen next. It's better this way. It is.

As the train stabilizes, she realizes someone new stands behind her. The presence feels different. She doesn't dare turn around, but she can sense the heat radiating from this new body, she smells a scent like fresh rain on flowers. Just another commuter. Just another stranger who means nothing to me. Who will probably ignore me like everyone else. Which is fine. Completely fine.

Miyuki adjusts her grip on the overhead rail, her arm raising slightly. The next stop is mine anyway. Just a few more minutes of this crowded, uncomfortable train. I'm certainly not hoping for... for anything inappropriate to happen. That would be... unthinkable for someone like me.