The second morning felt easier.
Not easy — that would probably never exist again — but easier.
Eri woke before her arm this time.
Soft morning light slipped through the curtains, painting her room gold instead of the dark blue she had grown used to waking up in. For a moment she stayed curled under the bnket, tails wrapped around her legs in a sleepy instinctive knot. Her ears twitched as the house made its normal morning sounds — footsteps downstairs, cabinet doors, the quiet hum of the coffee machine.
Normal.
The word still felt fragile.
She stretched carefully.
Immediately regretted it.
Her tails puffed from the motion, brushing the bnket and her calves in a way that made her jolt upright with a startled noise.
“…too sensitive in the morning…” she mumbled, face warm.
She sat still until they settled again, then slowly combed them out with her fingers. Brushing them had become part of the routine — detangle, smooth, calm the nerves in them before moving around too much. Her ears flicked at every small sound while she worked, but the sensation was grounding now instead of overwhelming.
Clothes next.
She chose what they’d picked out yesterday — soft skirt, loose sweater, leggings underneath. Safe. Comfortable. Minimal tail interference. She checked the mirror afterward, adjusting the holes sewn carefully into the skirt.
Still strange.
Still her.
“…okay.”
Downstairs smelled like breakfast.
Mom turned when she entered the kitchen, her expression automatically softening.
“Morning, Eri.”
Eri hesitated for half a second — then stepped closer, leaning slightly into her side. Mom smiled and brushed her hair behind one ear, careful around the real ones.
“Sleep alright?”
“Yeah… better.”
Mira looked up from the table. “You’re earlier than yesterday.”
“I wanna beat the hallway again.”
“Smart,” Mira nodded approvingly.
Yua just stared at the tails, mesmerized.
They ate quickly. No one pushed conversation too much — mornings had become quiet support instead of questioning. By the time the clock approached departure, Eri’s stomach still fluttered but didn’t twist painfully like yesterday.
They left even earlier.
The parking lot was nearly empty when they arrived.
“Ready?” Mom asked.
Eri held her bag strap tighter.
“…ready.”
When they arrived at the office it still felt too bright.
The principal greeted them much more calmly today, though he still did a tiny double-take at the ears. He handed her a printed schedule.
“Same dismissal arrangement as yesterday. You may leave each css early to avoid crowding.”
“Thank you,” Mom said.
Eri nodded.
The bell hadn’t rung yet.
Perfect.
English was quiet.
The teacher spoke gently, clearly instructed ahead of time not to draw attention. Students tried not to stare — tried — but curiosity hummed in the room like static electricity. Eri kept her head down, wrote notes carefully, and left before the bell.
Economics was simir.
Whispers.
Not mean.
Just… fascinated.
By the time she walked toward the science cssroom, her nerves had settled into manageable tightness instead of panic.
Then she opened the door.
The teacher looked up.
He froze.
His eyes locked onto the ears.
His brain visibly tried to process.
Failed.
He swayed.
The css collectively leaned forward.
“…uh…”
He colpsed straight backwards.
A loud thump.
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Eri stood in the doorway, horrified.
“Is he ok?—”
A student burst out ughing.
Then another.
Within seconds the entire room dissolved into chaos.
“Bro the new girl killed the teacher”
“This is gonna be a fun day”
Someone carefully peeked behind the desk. “He’s breathing!”
Another kid raised their hand instinctively. “Do we still have css?”
A brave girl near the front shook her head solemnly. “I think this counts as a free period.”
Cheering erupted.
Eri’s ears fttened in pure embarrassment. “I’m so sorry—”
“No no no,” someone waved, “you’re our hero.”
“Instant favorite person.”
“Please come to every css.”
She awkwardly slid into a desk near the wall while the css collectively agreed not to alert anyone immediately. One student pced a jacket under the teacher’s head like a battlefield medic.
Five minutes passed.
Ten.
No one attempted learning.
People chatted, did homework, pyed games, whispered questions to Eri but carefully — respectfully — not crowding her. The atmosphere strangely became the most rexed one she’d experienced so far.
No tension.
No expectation.
Just students enjoying unexpected freedom.
Eventually another staff member peeked in after hearing noise and discovered the situation.
Chaos resumed — adult edition.
But by then, css was essentially cancelled.
As Eri left early again, several students waved goodbye like she was a returning legend.
Her face stayed red all the way down the hallway.
“…I broke a teacher…”
The principal sighed deeply when she reported in for PE period.
“…science, correct?”
She nodded.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You may sit here today.”
Convenient indeed.
She sat quietly in the office chair, doing small assignments while the muffled sounds of gym css echoed from far away. It was peaceful. No staring. No whispers. Just paperwork sounds and typing.
Her tails rested comfortably against the chair.
For the first time at school, she rexed completely.
After the final bell, she waited as usual.
Mira and Mom arrived once the building emptied.
“How was today?” Mom asked.
Eri hesitated.
“…I accidentally knocked out the science teacher.”
Silence.
“…you what?” Mira asked slowly.
“He fainted! Immediately! I walked in and he just—” she mimed falling.
Mom covered her mouth trying not to ugh.
Mira failed completely.
“Your insane.”
“I didn’t mean to!”
Mom finally composed herself and gently squeezed her shoulder. “I’m sure it’ll be a memorable year.”
Eri groaned, ears drooping as they walked to the car.
Despite everything…
She wasn’t dreading tomorrow anymore.
And that alone felt like progress.