Chikan Bus Keionbu May 2026

Mio, the bassist, feels it first. A hand pressing against her thigh through her pleated skirt. She freezes—not from fear, but from disbelief. Buses are supposed to be safer than trains.

Not a song. A beatdown.

She turns slightly. The man beside her wears a salaryman’s suit and holds a briefcase. His eyes are closed, feigning sleep. But his fingers move with deliberate rhythm, as if plucking bass strings. Chikan bus keionbu