On the silent, deserted street, the occasional car drove by, bringing a faint sense of life.
Streetlights on both sides of the road gave off dim light, barely illuminating the darkness.
In the corner of the street, on the steps in front of a building, a girl in a white dress sat with her arms wrapped around her legs.
Her face was buried between her knees, long dark hair falling in messy strands, casting an eerie presence in the stillness of the night at eleven o'clock.
Next to her, a black cat lay quietly, its paws tucked under its body. Under the faint streetlight, its eyes glinted, reflecting an unsettling gleam.
A black cat and a girl in a white dress, always enough to remind people of creepy ghost stories.
If this were before, Toru wouldn't have hesitated or felt uneasy.
But ever since he gained the ability [Spirit Vision], he had become cautious and wary.
It was true that ignorance was bliss. Back when he knew nothing, he was like a newborn calf unafraid of tigers. He had been much braver.
As he slowly walked toward the girl, Toru noticed that while the black cat's fur was sleek and glossy, its body looked thin and frail, like it hadn't been properly fed and had suffered abuse.
But given a cat's nature, if it had really been mistreated, it would have run away long ago unless it was leashed. Yet this one stayed obediently by the girl's side.
"Hey, are you alright? Why are you out here so late? Want me to help you call the police?"
Toru thought it over and asked in the most normal way he could.
Let's just hope this girl doesn't say something like, 'I live in the mass grave outside the city, can you take me home?'
He muttered internally.
The girl on the steps trembled slightly at his approach and voice, as if startled.
She quickly lifted her head to glance at Toru, then lowered it again, burying her face between her knees like an ostrich.
But in that brief glance, Toru saw her face clearly.
She had delicate features, a fragile and refined appearance, yet her expression carried a gloomy, isolated aura.
To put it bluntly, she gave off a vibe that made people instinctively dislike her, want to bully her, or even feel a little repulsed. And it had nothing to do with her looks.
Toru raised an eyebrow. The tension in his chest completely disappeared.
Because in that instant, he noticed the bruises on her face. She looked like she'd been hit.
Connecting this with the fact that it was past eleven and she was out alone, Toru quickly pieced things together.
This was likely a girl with problems at home. She'd probably experienced domestic violence, and afraid to stay home, had run away late at night, with nowhere to go.
That seemed like the most reasonable explanation. Judging by her frail demeanor, she didn't look like the type to be out causing trouble or running wild.
So she's just a girl who's suffered abuse. I really scared myself for nothing.
Toru let out a dry chuckle.
Looking closer, he saw that the girl was extremely thin—abnormally so, like someone who had been malnourished for a long time.
Her exposed arms, barely covered by the white dress, were skin and bone. In Japan, a developed country, and in Tokyo of all places, to see an underage girl this starved said a lot about what might be going on.
Toru paused for a moment, then remembered there was a 7-Eleven nearby. He glanced at the frightened girl again, turned, and left without saying a word.
Sitting on the steps, Kayako Kawamata let out a small breath of relief, though it was mixed with a faint sense of disappointment.
She really was someone who couldn't be liked.
Since childhood, no one had ever cared about her.
Her parents beat her, her teachers and classmates avoided her. Even when a teacher clearly knew she was being abused at home, he chose to ignore it, not wanting to take any responsibility.
Over time, her already introverted personality turned gloomier. Caught in a vicious cycle, no one tried to talk to her. No one came close.
She didn't smell, but her classmates always joked she was like a dead fish pulled from a sewer, covered in a foul, rotten stench.
Back then, Kayako believed them. She really thought she smelled bad. She used to shower several times a day, just trying to be accepted, to be noticed.
But eventually, she realized the "smell" they talked about wasn't real. It was just a description of her gloomy, repelling aura, like the stench of a rotting fish.
And then she gave up.
In Tokyo, a metropolis with tens of millions of people, she lived like a shadow, as if she were the only person in the world.
At the 7-Eleven, it was already late, and most of the shelves were empty. After dark, rice balls and bentos would go on sale at half price.
The North District of Tokyo wasn't the city center. Rent was cheaper here, so many office workers lived in the area.
Whenever discounts appeared, crowds would come to snatch up the discounted rice balls and bentos.
Toru picked the remaining rice balls from the shelf and grabbed a bottle of strawberry milk from the heated case.
Although he worked for the CIA, that didn't mean he was some emotionless machine.
On the contrary, he thought he was pretty kind. If something was within his ability, he didn't mind helping someone in need.
He had mistaken the girl for something else, and seeing the life she was living, buying her a meal could at least serve as a small apology.
"That'll be six hundred yen."
After paying and heating up the rice balls in the microwave, Toru walked out of the store with a small plastic bag in hand.
Thankfully, the girl was still sitting on the steps.
(To be continued.)