The first light of morning filtered softly through the curtains, painting the room in pale gold. Eri stirred beneath the cocoon of her ten tails, each one coiled perfectly around her, wrapping her in a warmth and comfort she had craved all night. Her ears twitched at the faint sounds of the house waking — the distant hum of the refrigerator, the subtle creaks of floorboards, and the soft shuffle of her mother moving about downstairs.

  Her silver eyes blinked open slowly, taking in the familiar comfort of her room. For a moment, she wanted nothing more than to stay exactly like this — curled up, hidden, entirely herself. Her tails shifted gently, brushing against her skin in a sensation that made her purr involuntarily.

  But reality intruded like a cold breeze. Today was a school day. And with school came the world outside, the judgment of others, and the suffocating mask of Ethan.

  Eri pressed her face into the softness of her tails, inhaling their subtle scent, and tried to will herself to stay. Just a little longer, she thought, just a little more time before I have to be him again.

  The neckce hung on the floor beside the bed, its gem glinting faintly in the morning light. The sight of it made her stomach twist. That small object — a simple, elegant piece of metal and stone — was the prison and the key, the thing that forced her to live as Ethan, the thing that shackled her true self inside a body that didn’t feel like her own.

  She reached out instinctively, fingers hovering above it, trembling slightly. But she didn’t touch it. She couldn’t. Not yet.

  The thought of putting it on again — of being forced back into Ethan’s shape, back into the wrong body, back into the human male that felt foreign in every way — made her chest tighten. Every muscle in her body ached with the knowledge that soon she would have to comply.

  Eri curled tighter into her tails, wrapping them over her shoulders like a bnket. Her ears flicked anxiously, picking up every creak of the house. The soft purr of contentment from st night had faded, repced by a low, anxious hum inside her. Her feet pressed against the cold floor beneath her, and a shiver ran through her.

  I hate it, she thought. I hate having to go back. I don’t want to be him again. I don’t want to pretend. I don’t want to hide.

  The desire surged inside her, raw and insistent. Not just the longing to be herself, but something stronger — a desperate, almost frantic need to never have to wear that neckce again. To break it. To shatter it so there was no choice, no prison, no forced transformation.

  Her mind raced. The thought of smashing it made her heart hammer. Every instinct screamed that she shouldn’t — it might be dangerous, or worse, irreversible in ways she couldn’t imagine. But the gnawing ache of being Ethan again was more terrifying than any potential consequence.

  She pressed her hands to her face, hiding her expression. Her ears fttened slightly, the tips twitching with tension. Her tails twitched in agitation, brushing against the floor and one another, curling around her in protective loops yet unable to contain the trembling that spread through her body.

  A soft sound drifted up from the stairs — her mother humming a tune as she prepared breakfast. Eri froze, ears perked and tail tips quivering. She didn’t move. She couldn’t. The neckce sat within reach, yet the closer she imagined putting it on, the more desperate she felt to break it.

  I can’t. I can’t go back yet. I can’t.

  Her breathing hitched, shallow and rapid. She could feel her body reacting — not just with tension, but with something deeper, a pulsing, insistent reminder of who she truly was. Her tails twitched faster now, brushing against each other, her ears flicking in time with the low hum of her heartbeat.

  Eri’s silver eyes glinted as she thought of the freedom she had felt st night. The weight of her true form, the soft warmth of her tails, the delicate sweep of her ears — everything about being her was real, tangible, undeniable. And yet, it existed in stark contrast to the cold, tight weight of Ethan, which loomed over her day like a shadow she could not escape.

  The thought of returning to Ethan made her stomach turn. Every moment she had to wait in that form felt like a betrayal of herself. And the neckce — small, silent, unassuming — was the tool of that betrayal.

  Her fingers clenched the bnkets instinctively, a sharp, instinctive movement of frustration and fear. Her tails swirled around her in agitation, brushing the floor, the bed, tangling and untangling, each movement a mix of comfort and irritation.

  Eri exhaled slowly, trying to steady herself, to find even a fraction of the calm she had felt st night. But it was fleeting. Every creak of the house, every faint echo from the hallway, every imagined gnce from her family downstairs pressed on her mind. She was trapped in the room, trapped by circumstance, trapped by choice — and yet the pull to resist, to break free, to destroy the thing that forced her back into this form, was growing with every heartbeat.

  The neckce glimmered faintly under the soft morning light. It was so close. So small. So simple. And yet it was the source of all her frustration, all her longing, all her fear.

  Eri’s hand hovered above it again. She wanted, more than anything, to grab it. To feel the cold metal in her fingers. To finally end the cycle. But at the same time, fear rooted her in pce — fear of consequences, of discovery, of the unknown.

  She curled her body tighter, pressing her face into her tails, letting their warmth surround her. She purred softly, almost without thinking, a sound of comfort and instinct, the small reminder that she was here, she was real, she was herself — even if only for a few fleeting moments.

  The minutes stretched, quiet and tense. Every sound from the house outside reminded her of the limits of her freedom. Every heartbeat reminded her of the growing, almost unbearable desire to end the neckce, to recim herself permanently.

  Eri closed her eyes, breathing deep, trying to ground herself in the moment. She knew the day ahead would demand the mask of Ethan again, that the world outside would not understand her, and that she would have to fight through it. But for now, in this cocoon of her tails, in the soft comfort of her room, she allowed herself a single thought:

  I can’t go back yet. Not today. Not yet. And maybe, someday, I’ll make it so I never have to.

  Her purr deepened, soft and steady now, as she curled fully into her tails. The neckce glimmered quietly nearby, tempting, taunting — but she didn’t reach for it. Not yet.

  And in that moment, curled in warmth and silence, Eri allowed herself the tiniest flicker of hope — that one day, she would be free to stay herself, entirely, without compromise, without the prison of Ethan’s body, without the weight of the neckce pressing against her colrbone.

  For now, though, she simply existed, curled into the ten tails that wrapped her in comfort, ears flicking at the faintest sounds, eyes closed, heart steadying, purring softly as the world outside continued without her.

  And somewhere deep inside, the thought began to harden into resolve: if she could just survive the day… if she could just make it through one more stretch of being Ethan… maybe, just maybe, she could find a way to shatter the neckce entirely.