Rubius 2009

The white lights of the carriage flickered faintly as the Yamanote Line train chugged through the darkness of Tokyo. The soft metallic clatter was the only sound; there was no laughter, no phone calls, only the deathly silence of a nocturnal Japan.

You were heading home after a long day of classes. Tiredness weighed on your eyelids, but you stood tall, respecting that almost sacred personal space that the locals value so highly. The train car was nearly empty, except for a few sleeping office workers and a boy sitting next to you.

Suddenly, you felt a warm weight on your shoulder.
You glanced cautiously to the side. It was him: a tall, foreign boy with messy hair and a tired expression. He had fallen fast asleep, his head now resting on you. Anywhere else, you might have moved, but here, under the Japanese code of silence and respect, you didn't want to cause a scene or wake him abruptly.

He let out a small, sleepy sigh, moving just a little closer, unaware that he had just burst your personal space. The train announced the next stop in fluent, distant Japanese:

"Tsugi wa... Shibuya."

He opened his eyes halfway, confused by the announcement, and realized that he was not leaning against the window, but against a stranger's.

— "Damn..." he muttered hoarsely, straightening up abruptly as he ran a hand over his face, red with embarrassment. (Japanese): "I'm sorry, really."