Ethan moved like his bones were made of wet sand.

  Down the stairs.One step at a time.Careful not to colpse halfway.

  His vision swam a little — fshes of silver tails, soft fur, and warm feminine limbs brushing phantom-light against his skin. He blinked hard. Swallowed.

  Kitchen table. Family. Normal morning.

  Right.Sure.

  His mom turned first, spatu in hand. Her cheerful morning smile froze mid-expression.

  “…Honey. You look worse than yesterday.”

  His dad, behind his newspaper, lowered it slooowly.Brows scrunched.

  “Son, did you sleep at all?”

  Ethan opened his mouth… and what came out was a noise that sounded like a dying housepnt trying to remember math.

  His younger sister, Yui, squinted at him from her cereal bowl.

  “Dude, you look like a vampire sucked the life out of you but left you alive out of pity.”

  “Yui,” Mom scolded.

  “…but I mean, she’s right,” said his older sister, Mira, not looking up from her phone. “You look like someone hit you with a truck beled ‘Bad Life Choices.’”

  “I slept,” Ethan croaked.Technically true.After being tail-tangled into unconscious bliss.Totally counts.

  Mom stepped closer, pressing a hand to his forehead like she expected him to be burning up.He leaned into the touch without thinking — a soft, instinctive comfort response leftover from being Eri.

  His mom blinked.Her face softened.

  “You’re freezing. And pale. And…” she gently brushed a piece of hair from his face.“You look… sad.”

  Those words hit harder than he expected.

  Sad wasn't the word.He felt hollow.Empty of the girl who was supposed to be him.

  He forced a smile — cracked, brittle.

  “Just tired.”

  Mira finally looked up, eyes narrowing.“You sure it’s just tired? Because you look like… guilt. And regret. And maybe a ghost sat on you all night.”

  Yui nodded solemnly.“And cried.”

  Ethan inhaled sharply.Because it wasn’t wrong.

  Mom slid a pte of eggs toward him.

  “You’re not leaving this house without eating. And if you’re sick, you stay home.”

  Ethan shook his head quickly.Staying home meant staying Ethan.No.He’d suffer school and count the minutes until he could transform again.

  “I’m fine. I have to go.”

  Dad folded his paper, studying him with quiet, concerned eyes.

  “…Is someone bothering you at school?”

  “No.”Not someone.Something.

  His own body.His reflection.His reality.

  He picked up his fork. His hand trembled just enough for Mira’s eyebrow to lift again.

  “You sure you aren’t— like— secretly doing caffeine IV drips? Because if so, you’re doing it wrong.”

  He tried to ugh.It came out like a tired wheeze.

  Yui leaned forward, scrutinizing him like she had x-ray vision.

  “…Did you see a ghost?”

  “Yes,” he thought.Me — but the real one.

  He pushed food around his pte. Appetite gone.

  Mom squeezed his shoulder once more.“We’re here if you need to talk. About anything.”

  Ethan nodded weakly.

  He couldn’t tell them.Not yet.But one day… maybe.

  He finished two bites. Forced water down.Backpack slung. Hoodie on.

  Feet heavy, soul heavier.

  He whispered to himself, too quiet for them to hear:

  “Just get through today. She’ll be back tonight.”

  And that hope — fragile and glowing like moonlight on fur —was the only thing keeping him upright.