Eri woke before the arm.

  For a few seconds she didn’t understand why she was awake — the house was silent, the sky outside her window still dark blue instead of morning. Her tails were warm around her legs, her ears rexed, and for a brief, fragile moment she thought she could fall back asleep.

  Then she remembered.

  School.

  Her eyes opened instantly.

  The quiet of the early morning pressed in around her room. No footsteps. No running water. No Yui crashing into furniture. The world hadn’t started yet — and that was exactly why she’d set the arm so early.

  To avoid people.

  To avoid the crowded sidewalk.

  To avoid being watched while walking in.

  Her stomach tightened.

  “…Right,” she whispered to herself.

  She sat up slowly, her tails sliding down from around her shoulders and pooling behind her. Even after days of living like this, mornings still felt strange — waking as herself and knowing she would walk into the outside world without the option to become Ethan again.

  The broken neckce still rested in the drawer beside her bed.

  She didn’t open it.

  Instead, she forced herself to stand.

  Getting ready took longer than it used to — brushing her hair meant carefully navigating around her ears, pausing whenever they twitched at the sensation. She had learned to braid sections away from them so they wouldn’t brush constantly and distract her all day.

  Clothes were even harder.

  The uniform had been specially adjusted — a soft, loose blouse and skirt combination that left room for her tails without crushing them. Pulling it on required patience, guiding each tail carefully through the modified back opening.

  By the time she finished, faint pale light had begun creeping over the horizon.

  She stared at herself in the mirror.

  Ten tails swayed nervously behind her.

  Her ears tilted back.

  “…You said you’d try,” she murmured.

  A soft knock came at her door. “You up?” Mira’s voice.

  “Yeah.”

  When Eri opened it, Mira blinked — not surprised exactly, but still adjusting every time she saw her in the school uniform.

  “You look ready,” Mira said gently.

  “I’m terrified.”

  “Also that.”

  They moved quietly through the house. Mom was already awake — coffee in hand, clearly too anxious to sleep in. She paused when she saw Eri and gave a small reassuring smile that didn’t quite hide her nerves.

  “Car’s ready whenever you are,” she said.

  No one mentioned breakfast.

  Eri wasn’t sure she could swallow it anyway.

  The school looked different this early.

  Empty parking lot.

  No shouting students.

  No crowded sidewalks.

  Just the faint echo of a janitor’s cart somewhere inside and the buzz of fluorescent lights.

  Eri stepped out of the car slowly.

  Her tails stiffened immediately.

  Every sound felt louder without people around — her shoes on pavement, the rustle of her clothes, even the faint movement of her tails brushing together.

  Mom walked beside her, not touching, just close enough to be there.

  Inside, the hallways were nearly silent. A few teachers gnced up as they passed — and froze.

  Shock.

  Confusion.

  But none of them said anything.

  They reached the office door.

  Mom knocked gently.

  “Come in,” a voice called.

  The principal looked up from paperwork — and immediately stopped moving.

  The silence stretched.

  His eyes widened. Not fear. Not rejection.

  Pure human what am I looking at shock.

  Eri froze in pce, ears fttening instinctively. Her tails curled slightly inward as if trying to make themselves smaller — impossible as that was.

  Mom spoke calmly. “Thank you for meeting us early.”

  The principal blinked several times, clearly resetting his brain before standing. “Yes— yes, of course.”

  He sat slowly. Still staring.

  “I was told there would be… circumstances,” he admitted carefully.

  Eri wished the floor would open.

  Mom rested a hand lightly against Eri’s back — grounding but gentle.

  “She’s still a student who needs an education,” Mom said.

  That seemed to help him find his footing.

  “Yes. Right. Of course.” He cleared his throat and looked at the papers on his desk — likely the prepared documentation from yesterday’s calls. “We discussed accommodations, but… this may be simpler.”

  “Simpler?” Mira asked.

  The principal looked at Eri again — more professionally this time.

  “If students recognize her as someone who was previously enrolled, questions will multiply. Rumors too.” He folded his hands. “However… new students attract curiosity briefly. Then normalcy.”

  Eri listened carefully.

  Mom nodded slowly. “You’re suggesting…”

  “We enroll her as a transfer student,” he said. “New name in the system. New start socially. Teachers briefed privately. It will be easier for everyone — especially her.”

  Eri’s heart pounded.

  Not pretending to be Ethan.

  Not correcting people.

  Not expining.

  Just… being Eri.

  “…Okay,” she whispered.

  He gave a small reassuring nod. “Then welcome.”

  He printed a paper and handed it to her.

  Her schedule.

  Her hands trembled slightly as she took it.

  “Your first css begins at the first bell,” he said gently. “You may remain here until halls clear.”

  Time suddenly felt real.

  Students would arrive soon.

  Voices.

  Noise.

  Looking.

  Her ears twitched toward the hallway — distant lockers beginning to sm as early arrivals entered the building.

  The principal noticed. “You can go whenever you’re ready.”

  She stood slowly.

  Mom squeezed her shoulder once.

  Mira gave her a small nod.

  Eri walked to the office door and rested her hand on the handle.

  The bell rang starting Eri's new school life.

  AnnouncementWhy did you guys have to end up with making the yes and no about Eri's tails a tie