Hisaki’s chin was still resting on top of her head.
Hisaki’s breathing kept the same rhythm—slow and steady, landing softly in her hair with each exhale.
But Hisaki’s fingers—the hand placed behind Rinna’s head—the thumb was moving, ever so slightly, tracing the curve of Rinna’s skull with a gentle caress.
The movement was so small that Rinna almost thought it was just the swaying of the train playing tricks on her.
But when she focused, it wasn’t a trick.
Hisaki’s thumb was definitely moving, sliding from the bump at the back of her head down to the little hollow where her neck met her skull, then back up again, over and over.
Rinna didn’t move. She didn’t speak.
She leaned into Hisaki’s arms, eyes closed, as the train clattered on.
Then she felt Hisaki’s breath catch.
A moment later, Hisaki’s chin brushed lightly against the top of Rinna’s head.
The motion was so faint it was almost nonexistent, as if she was afraid of being discovered.
Then, using the train’s lurch as cover, she leaned forward just a little, pressing the tip of her nose into Rinna’s white hair and taking a deep breath.
The train’s movement perfectly masked the action. To anyone else around them, it looked like a tall girl adjusting her stance in a crowded car.
But Rinna felt it.
The inhale was gentle but long, as if she wanted to capture every last trace of that scent and store it in the deepest part of her lungs, in the most hidden place inside her.
Hisaki’s chest rose slightly with that breath, and the heartbeat coming through the fabric of her shirt quickened.
Not a trick.
Rinna had been counting that heartbeat all the way. It had been a steady sixty-something beats per minute. Now it was seventy or eighty.
Hisaki’s thumb was still moving softly on the back of Rinna’s head.
Suddenly, Rinna didn’t know what to say.
Her fingers unconsciously tightened, gripping the hem of Hisaki’s shirt.
The fabric wrinkled in her palm, forming a tiny crease.
She didn’t know why she did it. She just felt that if she didn’t hold onto something, she’d be sucked into some invisible whirlpool inside this train car.
Hisaki’s arms tightened a fraction more.
The silence inside the carriage continued to spread.
Outside the window, the scenery changed from a shopping district to a residential area.
Houses retreated into dark red silhouettes against the sunset, and the shadows of telephone poles flickered across the window one after another.
The train’s announcement sounded again, calling out the next station. Rinna listened. It was the station where they needed to get off.
Before the girl with light brown hair got off, she glanced back at Rinna.
As the train slowed for the station, her body swayed slightly, then steadied.
She turned her head, her gaze cutting through the dense crowd inside the car, landing on Rinna, who was still tucked protectively in Hisaki’s arms.
Her lips moved, as if she was hesitating over something. Her fingers clutched and released the strap of her school bag, over and over.
Finally, she gave a small bow in Rinna’s direction—so slight that only Rinna could recognize it as a gesture of thanks.
***
Then she turned and quickly stepped off the train.
The train continued on.
They had arrived at their stop.
Hisaki let go of the hand that had been holding the interior wall, the movement gentle and slow, as if she was carefully retreating from a tender embrace.
Her palm left a faint, blurry print on the metal surface, quickly dissipated by the car’s air conditioning.
She took Rinna’s hand, threading her fingers through Rinna’s, palm against palm, holding them together with just the right amount of pressure.
Rinna’s hand was a full size smaller, nestled inside Hisaki’s grip.
Hisaki’s thumb brushed lightly across the back of Rinna’s hand, then she led her toward the door.
The two school bags swayed on Hisaki’s shoulders, the straps of the canvas bag and the leather one rubbing together with a soft sound.
As they moved through the crowd, Hisaki angled her body slightly, her shoulder shielding Rinna, parting the press of people for her.
Someone got jostled and clicked their tongue in annoyance, but after a glance at Hisaki’s eyes, they wisely swallowed the rest of their complaint.
Rinna followed behind her, and the two stepped off the train one after the other.
The wind on the platform hit them head-on, carrying the lingering smell of machine oil from the tracks and the scent of oden broth from the convenience store in the distance.
Compared to the thick, stuffy air inside the car, this wind felt like a gift from another world.
Rinna took a deep breath, and the tightness in her chest eased considerably.
The sun had already sunk below the level of the station roof, dyeing the entire platform in warm orange.
The train behind them closed its doors and continued on, its taillights shrinking into a red dot at the end of the tracks before disappearing around the corner of an elevated bridge.
Rinna and Hisaki walked side by side down the stairs from the platform.
What Rinna didn’t know was that, in the direction where the train’s lights had vanished, in a corner of the car they couldn’t see, a pair of eyes had never once left Rinna.
The owner of those eyes was a young man in a dark gray suit, his tie hanging loosely around his neck, and the cuffs of his shirt unbuttoned, revealing his wrists.
He leaned against the door at the opposite end of the car, holding a phone face-down in his palm.
From the moment Rinna had spoken her first words, his gaze had locked onto the white-haired girl tucked protectively in the dark-haired girl’s arms.
That face so delicate it seemed unreal. That red hair ribbon.
That arrogant attitude that, despite clearly being frail enough to get red marks on her wrist from a light tug, used the most infuriating tone to silence a grown man.
“Too interesting.”
He tapped open a nameless group chat on his phone and quickly typed a line.
The light from the screen illuminated his face—well-proportioned features, even a bit handsome. But the curve of his mouth was anything but reassuring.
“Today, 4:30 PM, Xixing Line, third car. Found a top-tier one.”
Sent.
The screen went dark, reflecting his face.
The smile was still there.
The train’s lights cast a long shadow of him on the interior wall.
Hidden within this city’s evening rush-hour train network was a secret organization.
No one knew how big it was. No one knew who its members were.
They could be office workers in suits, maintenance workers carrying toolkits, or tourists standing on the platform pretending to take photos of the scenery.
They were scattered on every line, inside every car—like grains of salt thrown into the sea, seemingly traceless, yet everywhere.
They specialized in stalking those who were alone on the train and looked unable to fight back, or… those who had caught their “interest.”
And that night, the group chat’s history had a new marker added to it.
“A white-haired femdom tiny devil girl?”
“Yeah.”
“Then that’s it. The boss loves this kind the most…”