By mid-afternoon, the house had shifted into that familiar, restless lull—sunlight snting through the windows at an angle that made dust motes sparkle, the quiet hum of the refrigerator filling the gaps between sounds. Eri sat cross-legged on the couch, tails pooled around her like a living bnket, ears flicking every time a car passed outside.

  She’d spent most of the early afternoon trying to distract herself. A little reading. A little pacing. A lot of staring at nothing while her thoughts tangled themselves into knots.

  She was just starting to rex—just starting—when the front door smmed open.

  “We’re home!”

  Yui’s voice echoed through the house like a small explosion. A second ter, Mira’s footsteps followed, heavier, more measured, her backpack thumping against the wall as she set it down.

  Eri’s ears shot straight up.

  “Oh—” she blurted, scrambling to sit up properly, tails fring out behind her in a reflexive burst of nerves. “You’re—uh—back already?”

  Yui appeared in the doorway, eyes lighting up instantly. “Eri!” She barreled forward and wrapped her arms around Eri’s middle without warning. “Your tails are fluffy today!”

  Eri squeaked softly, tails instinctively curling inward, one of them looping protectively around Yui without thinking.

  “Mmph—Yui—careful,” Eri said, ughing despite herself.

  Mira leaned against the doorframe, watching with that familiar mix of concern and fondness. Her eyes flicked briefly to Eri’s ears, then her tails, then back to her face.

  “You doing okay?” Mira asked quietly.

  Eri nodded. “Yeah. I think so. Just… jumpy.”

  “Fair,” Mira said dryly.

  Before Eri could respond, the doorbell rang.

  All three of them froze.

  Ding-dong.

  Eri’s ears fttened. “What was that?”

  Mom’s voice floated from the kitchen. “That’ll be the delivery! Could one of you get it?”

  Mira frowned. “Delivery?”

  The doorbell rang again, longer this time.

  Ding-doooong.

  Yui gasped. “Packages!”

  She sprinted for the door.

  “No—wait—!” Eri started, too te.

  The front door opened, and the delivery person was already setting boxes down on the porch. Not one. Not two.

  Five.

  Large ones.

  Eri stared in horror as Yui dragged the first box inside with a triumphant grunt.

  “Mom!” Yui shouted. “There’s so many Boxes!”

  Eri slowly stood, tails stiff behind her. “…Why are there boxes?”

  Mom appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel—and when she saw the stack, her face lit up.

  “Oh good, they came early.”

  Eri’s stomach dropped.

  “Early… for what?” she asked carefully.

  Mom cpped her hands once. “Clothes.”

  Silence.

  Mira’s head snapped toward their mom. “Clothes?”

  “For Eri,” Mom said matter-of-factly. “She can’t keep wearing oversized hoodies forever. We need things that actually fit her—comfortably.”

  Eri felt heat rush straight to her face. Her ears burned. Her tails puffed slightly in pure panic.

  “I—I didn’t say—” she started.

  “And!” Mom continued, entirely too cheerfully, “I may have ordered a few basics. You know. Underwear.”

  The world stopped.

  Yui blinked. “…Oh NO!”

  Eri made a small, strangled noise.

  “MOM—” Mira said sharply, immediately realizing what was about to happen.

  But it was too te.

  Mom had already opened the first box.

  Fabric spilled out. Soft colors. Neatly folded. Clearly beled.

  Eri’s brain short-circuited.

  She covered her face with both hands. “Please—please tell me this is a nightmare.”

  Yui leaned over the box, squinting. “Why is this one so small?”

  “MOM,” Eri said, voice cracking with mortification. “Why is everyone looking?”

  Mom paused, finally registering the sheer level of distress radiating off Eri. Her expression softened—just a bit.

  “Oh, sweetheart. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

  Eri peeked through her fingers. “It is when my little sister is right there!”

  Yui tilted her head. “They’re just clothes.”

  Mira stepped in immediately, pcing herself between Yui and the box. “Okay! Yui, homework time. Go. Now.”

  “Aww,” Yui protested. “I wanna help!”

  “No,” Mira said firmly. “You don’t.”

  Grumbling, Yui shuffled off, casting one st curious gnce over her shoulder.

  Eri sagged in relief, tails drooping.

  Mom closed the box halfway. “I didn’t mean to overwhelm you.”

  “I know,” Eri muttered. “I just—can we not… do this in the living room?”

  Mom smiled gently. “That’s fair.”

  Mira, however, had a different look in her eyes.

  A dangerous look.

  “So,” Mira said slowly, “since the boxes are open…”

  Eri’s ears fttened. “Mira.”

  “…and since we do need to know what fits…”

  “Mira,” Eri repeated, more urgently.

  “…this is the perfect time for a dress-up.”

  Eri’s jaw dropped. “Absolutely not.”

  Mom hesitated. “Well—”

  “No,” Eri said firmly. “Hard no.”

  Mira grinned. “Counterpoint: yes.”

  Eri backed up a step. “I will lock myself in my room.”

  Mira crossed her arms. “You already did that once. Didn’t work out great.”

  Mom sighed, but there was amusement in her eyes. “Eri… we won’t force anything you’re truly uncomfortable with.”

  Eri looked between them, ears twitching, tails swaying anxiously.

  “…But?” she asked.

  “But,” Mom admitted, “trying on a few outfits might help you feel more… settled.”

  Eri swallowed.

  Her instincts screamed run. Hide. Retreat back into her room, bury herself in her tails, and pretend none of this was happening.

  But another part of her—the part that remembered Mira’s steady presence, her mom’s quiet reassurance—knew this wasn’t about embarrassment.

  It was about adjustment.

  “…Fine,” Eri muttered. “But you don’t get to ugh.”

  Mira immediately failed to suppress a smile. “No promises.”

  The next hour was chaos.

  Clothes were everywhere—id across the couch, draped over chairs, piled on the coffee table. Soft sweaters. Flowing tops with extra room in the back. Skirts with careful tailoring to accommodate her tails. Pants with modified seams.

  Eri stood awkwardly in front of the mirror while Mira handed her item after item, Mom offering commentary like it was the most normal thing in the world.

  “That color’s nice on you.”

  “Oh, that one’s definitely a no.”

  “Careful with the tails—”

  Eri’s embarrassment peaked when Mom gently handed her a small folded bundle and said, entirely too casually, “These should be more comfortable.”

  Eri froze.

  “MOM.”

  “What?” Mom said innocently.

  “I am right here.”

  Mira burst out ughing.

  Eri’s face went so red it felt like it might actually glow.

  “I hate this,” she groaned.

  But somewhere between the ughter, the gentle adjustments, and the way her family treated it all as… normal—something inside her loosened.

  She wasn’t being judged.

  She wasn’t being mocked.

  She was being… included.

  By the time the sun dipped lower in the sky, Eri colpsed onto the couch, exhausted, tails sprawled everywhere.

  Mira plopped down beside her. “You survived.”

  Eri huffed. “Barely.”

  Mom smiled from the doorway. “And now you have clothes that fit.”

  Eri gnced down at the soft sweater she was wearing, the way it sat comfortably around her shoulders, the careful cut that didn’t tug at her tails.

  “…Yeah,” she admitted quietly. “I guess I do.”

  Her ears twitched, settling into a rexed position.

  Embarrassing or not—

  This was her life now.