Bleary brown eyes gazed down at her tablet, squinting to make out even the barest of meanings from the blurry, black shapes and squiggles that covered the pale light of the screen. It rocked gently in her hands, shaking in sync with the gentle vibrations of the train as it rattled across along the tracks. Her body dipped forwards, exhaustion's soothing grip seeking to lull her further into the realms of Morpheus. Nao recoiled back, nearly slamming her head against the soft leather headrest with the sudden, jerking movement. She swung her gaze wildly around the train car, frantically searching for anybody who had taken note of her physical outburst. Embarrassment filled her cheeks.

There was nobody.

The black-suited salaryman on the opposing side of the car was quietly snoring into his window, lost to the dreams like she had nearly been.

A trio of middle school girls gossiped loudly to one another a mere two seats ahead, their mumbled yet animated conversation clearly audible to everyone else.

One bridesmaid brightly beaming, a bouquet of flowers ([i]they were peonies; soft, fluffy and possessing a beautiful fragrance that even she could detect[/i]) tightly hugged to her breast. Somebody, it appeared, had been deemed a to-be-wed.

Yet not a single one of them had noticed her. She was just another commuter returning to her residence after a long, tiring day. The red in her cheeks slowly began to die down. Nobody had seen her nearly fall asleep in the middle of her work. The mind had been willing to continue, but her flesh had chosen a different approach. It was, to her frustration, too fatigued, strained to the point where it desired nothing more than rest. Understandable, when her commitments had been piling up so much, but still frustrating.

Nao released a sigh, leaning back against the chair with a dull thud. She had wanted to complete her work, but alas it was unlikely that she could continue to do so in such an exhausted state. With a barely perceptible grumble, the young woman switched off her tablet, pocketing the device within an inner compartment of her suit. There was no point in doing any more work. It could be finished at a later date.

She closed her eyes, allowing the darkness to wash over her. She was tired. Too tired. Her body screamed at her to sleep. It was very infrequently that she took heed of its demands, but it seemed as if today would be one of those moments. Unconsciousness began to seep into her mind, a trickling, slithering entity seeking to reclaim a lost child.

She could rest.

She co-

A rush of air. Movement. Nao barely managed to instinctively throw her left arm out, palming forcefully against the seat in front of her as inertia flung her entire body forwards. Pain lanced up towards her shoulder, the sudden influx of feeling snapping her right back into wakefulness. An intense hiss emerged from her throat. It hurt. Her body was shaking, shuddering with just ... just pain. Her left arm felt sprained. She did not particularly know for sure, but it hurt. It hurt as if the Devil itself had chosen to torture her.

It would be for the best if the train were to install seatbelts. Nao made a mental note to refer the suggestion to the train line operators; the pain she suffered should not have been comparable to being struck by a wildly-swung hockey stick.

She was awake now, however. Incredibly awake. The girl could hear her heartbeat, the rapid thumping of the organ as blood rushed to every nook and cranny of her body. And in this state of wakefulness, she could notice a certain occurrence. The frozen time. The strange, supernatural event that had so far eluded every single attempt by her to study it. Why was it that she alone could take action within it? Why was it that nobody else, like the bridesmaid or the middle schoolers or the officer worker, could enter this ... this eerie world?

They were questions that disconcerted her immensely.

As did the screaming.

Having been located near the back of her carriage, Nao could hear, faintly, amongst the din of metallic throbbing, somebody's voice. A human voice, in fact. A human voice that was ... saying something. Screaming something. Was it her imagination? Something clanged against metal. No. It was not. There was definitely somebody in the car behind her.

Somebody moving.

She cautiously stood from her seat, good arm (her right) carefully bracing herself against the headrests of the seats in front of her. The shock of the impact had yet to leave her. Pain still continued to lance through her other arm, as if some strange insect was tearing away at the flesh within. The mental image was disturbing. Nao dismissed it immediately, instead focusing her attentions on hobbling around to the next carriage. Her feet were fine. More than fine. Yet the arm was slowing her down.

It was far too sore.

Exiting the carriage and crossing the short "gap" (she had forgotten the technical term) was easier than she had expected. The train was not moving, and thus there were no forces acting upon her body that could leave her falling off. Opening the door with one hand, however, was a greater difficulty, but after a few seconds of "finicky action", it allowed her through.

It allowed her into the next carriage.

It allowed her to witness the silver-haired youth (she could not tell the age clearly, but Nao was sure the boy was at least hers) bleeding out.

Nao pulled at her tie with her right hand, loosening and slackening the crimson fabric until it had been separated from her neck. Instinct had seemed to taken over her once more, and before she knew it she was already approaching the other at a rapid pace, the silence broken by her footsteps echoing against the metal floor. The tie was gripped loosely in her hand. There was a need for her to provide as much assistance as possible. That was the right course of action.

"[color=a36209]Are you fine?[/color]" she asked, her concerned tones clear in the air. She knew the answer already, but she wanted to let him know of her presence. Of the fact that she was willing to render any form of assistance.

Her left arm ached. It continued to bother her, but with the appearance of this boy ... it had dulled.

Her own pain was not important compared to that of others.