Hello there, Aria here.
It's the weekend, finally. Today was supposed to be a chill hangout day with Irana, Viola, and Kotori. We made plans to meet up at Central Tsukuru Mall—typical girls' day out, you know? Irana and Viola had already gone ahead without me, though. I wanted to leave with them, but…
Well, let's just say my mom had other ideas.
She stopped me just as I was about to walk out the door and asked—no, invited me to join her for one of her Vcuber streams. And yes, before you ask, she's still doing that. Full setup, face rig, digital avatar—the whole thing. And of course, she just had to drag me into it, because "the fans love family content."
I tried to say no. Really, I did. But my mom has this scary power called "mom guilt" and I, a mere mortal, stood no chance.
So there I was, suddenly in front of the camera doing some chaotic mother-daughter stream—Although, the viewer thought we are sisters—that involved way more physical activity than I was mentally prepared for. Like, who even thought karaoke with dance routines was a good idea?
Anyway, the stream lasted about two hours. The second it ended, I made my escape—basically power-walking out of her room while texting Irana to let her know I was finally on my way.
Her reply?
"Still at the mall. Watching the livestream from the cafe lol."
Yeah. That happened.
They watched it.
Viola even sent a screenshot of me doing this weird high-kick move and added, "Cute form ^-^" in the chat. I wanted to melt into the floor. Kotori just sent a polite clap emoji, which somehow made it worse.
Ugh.
So yeah, I immediately dashed to the bathroom, jumped in the shower, and changed clothes. And before you ask—yes, I had to shower. That stream was practically a workout session. I was sweating like crazy, and there's no way I'm showing up at the mall smelling like a gym bag. Not happening.
Once I was feeling semi-human again, I grabbed my stuff and headed out the door, making a beeline for the nearest train station.
At this point, I'm just hoping I don't arrive looking like a disaster.
When the subway train finally arrived, I let out a quiet groan under my breath.
Of course. Just my luck.
The train was packed to the brim—not shoulder-to-shoulder packed, but packed enough that every seat was taken and personal space was more of a suggestion than a guarantee. Alright, maybe I'm exaggerating a little… but the bottom line is, there were no seats left. Which meant I had to stand. All the way to the next station.
Normally, I wouldn't mind. I'm not fragile or anything. But after being dragged into a spontaneous dance-fest for my mom's Vcuber stream, my legs were screaming. I swear, they were one subway stop away from filing a formal complaint.
Should I just… go back home?
No. Not an option. I'd already made it this far, and besides—I wanted to see Irana and the others. So I braced myself, sighed, and stepped into the crowded train compartment.
I managed to find a spot standing near one of the chairs, holding onto the metal pole for balance. Leaning slightly against it, I pulled out my phone to kill time. First, I opened the camera app to check myself out—makeshift mirror style. Hair? Still in place. No weird smudges on my face? Good enough.
Then I switched to the browser and opened up my go-to novel site, scrolling through a few new uploads. It was peaceful. Calm. I was minding my own business, lost in a fantasy world, when suddenly—
I felt something.
Right on my lower back.
My entire body tensed. A cold wave shot up my spine.
No way…
Did I just get… molested?
My reflexes kicked in before I could even fully process it. Without thinking, I reached behind me and snatched the hand with a sharp flick of my wrist, ready to twist if necessary.
But the moment my fingers closed around it, I felt… softness?
Not what I expected.
Middle-aged men don't have hands this soft, right? Their skin is usually rough or sweaty or… whatever. But this hand felt smooth. Almost delicate.
I turned slowly, following the arm up to its owner, and locked eyes with a girl. She looked to be around my age, maybe a year or two older. Short hair—shorter than mine, actually—but unmistakably feminine. Pretty, even. Her hoodie was pulled up, casting a bit of shadow over her face, and her clothes were loose… maybe a size too big, like she was trying not to stand out.
Suspicious.
Very suspicious.
I opened my mouth to say something—to call her out, maybe even shout—but the words caught in my throat. Her expression wasn't smug or creepy. She looked startled. Embarrassed, even.
My voice came out quieter than I intended, barely above a whisper.
"…What are you doing?"
My grip loosened slightly, but I didn't let go yet.
She looked startled, like a deer caught in headlights. Her eyes widened, and for a second, I saw something that almost resembled fear flicker across her face.
I clenched my jaw.
Figures.
She must've done this before—probably a lot. The kind of person who knows how to pick the perfect moment, who preys on the fact that no one ever suspects someone like her. Pretty. Soft-spoken-looking. Harmless on the surface. Who would ever accuse a girl like her of that?
And if she had been caught before, I bet she had a go-to routine. Probably pointed to the nearest unlucky guy and shifted the blame without batting an eye. The more I thought about it, the more convinced I became that there were probably a whole bunch of innocent dudes out there who got dragged into messy situations because of her.
I glared harder.
Then she had the audacity to say—
"What are you doing!... Why are you holding my hand?"
Oh, that's how you wanna play it?
Pretending to be the victim now?
I could almost admire the boldness of it. I might've second-guessed myself if I hadn't been absolutely sure of what happened. But no—my reflexes were sharp. Trained. There was no way I grabbed the wrong person.
I narrowed my eyes.
"So, you really don't know what you did wrong?..." I asked, my voice low and cold.
Anyone overhearing that might've been confused by the vague wording, but I wasn't talking to them. I was talking to her. And if she was the one who touched me, she'd understand exactly what I meant.
Her body tensed. She shifted her eyes around the compartment, avoiding eye contact now.
"W-What do you mean?... I-I don't understand!" she stammered.
Still not confessing?
Fine. If she thought I'd back down because she was a girl, she had another thing coming.
My grip on her hand tightened. Not enough to cause real damage—just enough to hurt. To warn. To remind her that I wasn't someone she could mess with.
Her lips parted like she was about to cry out, but she swallowed the scream. Her shoulders trembled. Her eyes shimmered—tears threatening to spill over.
For a second… I hesitated.
Maybe it was the way her expression changed. Maybe it was how she didn't scream or fight back, just stood there and took it.
I loosened my grip. Just a little.
Then I leaned in close, my voice just barely reaching her ear.
"Do something like this again... and that arm won't be connected to your body anymore."
She froze.
Right on cue, the train came to a screeching halt. The chime dinged overhead. Central Tsukuru Station.
As the doors hissed open, the girl yanked her hand free and bolted—shoulders hunched, head down—disappearing into the crowd outside the train car without a word.
I watched her go in silence, heart still pounding. I didn't feel proud of myself. Not really.
But at least she was gone.
And she wouldn't be trying that again anytime soon.