A soft sound reached her first — muffled through yers of downy fur and the half-fog of sleep.A voice. Familiar. Worried.

  “Ethan? Please… answer me…”

  Eri’s eyes fluttered open. The room was dim, lit only by the gray light slipping past the curtains. Her ten tails were wrapped around her in a soft cocoon of warmth, their silvery-white glow faint and soothing. She felt weightless there, buried in herself — safe, hidden, real.

  But then the voice came again.Her mother’s voice.

  “Ethan, honey, please say something.”

  The sound hit something deep in her chest. Guilt. Fear. Ache. She could hear the panic in every word, the way her mother’s voice trembled like she was barely keeping herself together.

  Eri wanted to speak. To say she was okay. To tell her mom not to worry.But the moment she opened her mouth, her throat locked tight.

  What would she even say?She couldn’t call out as Ethan — she wasn’t Ethan right now.And she couldn’t call out as Eri — her mother didn’t know Eri existed.

  So she did nothing.

  She just curled tighter under the bnket, tails wrapping around her body until she disappeared beneath their shimmering folds. The fur brushed against her cheek, soft and alive, the faint warmth pulsing with every heartbeat.

  The world beyond the door was sharp, frightening.But here — under her tails, she could almost pretend she didn’t exist as anyone but herself.

  The voice outside grew smaller, muffled by distance.She heard her mom whisper something that broke halfway through, footsteps retreating down the hall.

  Eri’s chest hurt. She wanted to cry, but even the thought of tears felt too heavy.

  So she stayed still.Listening to the silence between them.Hiding in the warmth of her tails — the only pce she still felt whole.

  She whispered, so softly even she could barely hear it:“…I just want to stay me a little longer.”

  Her eyes slipped shut again, surrounded by silver fur and quiet light, as the world outside her door kept waiting for a boy who wasn’t there anymore.

  The soft noise of the front door opening reached Eri first. She stiffened under her tails, the warm cocoon suddenly feeling tighter, almost constricting.

  Voices followed soon after — the unmistakable ughter and chatter of her sisters.

  Yui still excitable, bounced down the hallway toward the front door. “I’m starving!” she called. “Mom! Is Ethan up yet? Or is he still hiding in his room like usual?”

  From somewhere behind Yui came the more measured, teasing tone of her older sister, Mira carrying her backpack slung over one shoulder. “Knowing him, probably locked in there,” she said with a soft ugh. “We should just let him sleep a little longer. He looked like crap this morning.”

  Eri’s chest tightened. She hugged her knees tighter to her chest, burying her face deeper into the silky fur of her tails. No. No. They can’t see me like this.

  The footsteps outside her door grew louder, a rhythm of approaching curiosity.“Ethan? You in there?” Mira called softly, knocking lightly. “We’ve got snacks. Come out, or we’ll just… break the door down.”

  Eri’s heart pounded. She stayed frozen, her ears twitching under the thick fur. The tails that had been a source of comfort now felt like a cage, pressing her into the floor.

  From the other side, Yui’s voice rang out, bright and impatient: “C’mon, big bro! Don’t be a dork! You’re missing all the good snacks!”

  Eri clenched her paws around her tails, biting the inside of her cheek. The urge to respond was almost unbearable. But she couldn’t. Not like this. Not as herself.

  Every sound of her sisters’ ughter and chatter cut through her like sharp bdes. She could feel herself trembling under the weight of her own silence.

  “…Just a little longer,” she whispered to the shadows under her fur, curling even tighter. “Please, just a little longer.”

  The footsteps faded slightly as Mira went to fetch something from the kitchen, leaving Yui leaning against the hallway wall. Eri’s ears twitched at every creak of the floorboards, every soft shuffle. She could sense the danger of being discovered, and her body reacted instinctively — tails coiling, ears fttening slightly, every muscle tensed for flight.

  For now, she was hidden, invisible, wrapped in her own warmth. But the day outside her locked door had just begun.