The morning sun spilled through the curtains, brushing the floor with warm light as Eri reluctantly stirred from her cocoon of tails. She stretched, letting her ears twitch and her silver eyes blink awake, taking in the soft glow of her room. The comfort of her tails, the gentle warmth of her fur, and the quiet sanctuary of her locked door made her want to stay curled up forever.

  But reality had other pns. School. The world outside. Ethan’s body waiting like a cage she would have to climb back into. She pressed a hand to her face, letting a soft sigh escape through her small nose, and slowly began the arduous process of preparing herself.

  Her backpack y across the floor, untouched since st night. Eri shuffled toward it, tails swishing with each step. She reached down to grab the straps — and instantly felt the sharp tug of one of her tails caught in the zipper.

  A sharp pang shot up her spine, and she yelped quietly, her ears twitching. One of the ten long tails, thick with fur and so sensitive along its length, had snagged itself in the metal teeth. Eri froze, biting her lip. The pain was sharp, but fleeting — not enough to stop her. With careful, practiced movements, she freed her tail and shook it gently, tail-tips quivering.

  She looked at her backpack, the zipper now bent slightly from her struggle, and allowed herself a small, bitter chuckle. Of course it would happen like this. The thought made her purr softly, a mixture of frustration and embarrassment bubbling in her chest.

  There was no time to linger. She had to face it — the neckce. Sitting on her desk, it gleamed in the morning light, cool and indifferent, waiting to drag her back into the shell of Ethan’s body. She picked it up, turning it over in her hands, her cws brushing the metal, her heart sinking at the inevitability of what she had to do.

  Do I… tell them? she thought, staring at the neckce. The truth, the secret, her reality… the idea of revealing it to her family — her mother, her younger sister Yui — terrified her. She had spent years hiding this part of herself, even before the neckce. The thought of expining Eri to them, of showing herself in this vulnerable, exposed form, made her chest tighten painfully.

  No. Not today. Not ever. She had to survive. She had to be Ethan.

  With a reluctant sigh, she pced the neckce over her head. The familiar weight pressed against her colrbone, cool and unyielding. She felt the magic flow through her, soft and insistent, reshaping her body. Her curves melted back into the familiar form of Ethan, the fox ears receding, tails compressing until there was nothing left of them. Her silver eyes returned to their human brown.

  The transformation was always jarring. She felt the weight of Ethan’s body, the sense of wrongness pressing against her chest, her limbs, her skin. Her hands lingered over her now-ft chest, the phantom memory of her tails and fur curling like a pulse beneath her human form. She swallowed the wave of frustration and longing that rose in her throat, forcing herself to move forward.

  By the time she was dressed in Ethan’s school uniform, the earlier flutter of her tails had been repced with an awkward stiffness. She adjusted the straps of her backpack, trying not to remember how much it had pinched her tail just minutes ago, and stepped toward the stairs.

  Downstairs, the house was alive with its usual morning bustle. Her mother moved about the kitchen, preparing breakfast with a hum, while Mira and Yui chattered over mundane things like toothpaste, school bags, and the weather.

  Ethan swallowed hard, trying to steady his movements, trying to slip into the mask he wore so effortlessly before. He didn’t speak more than necessary, offering only brief nods when spoken to.

  Then his eyes caught it.

  His backpack. Or rather, the remnants of something left behind in the zipper. A small tuft of white fur, clinging stubbornly to the teeth.

  His mother froze mid-step, spatu in hand. Her eyes went wide.

  “Ethan… where…?” she started, looking between him and the bag.

  Ethan’s chest tightened. He opened his mouth to expin — to lie, to deflect — but no words could properly cover the truth. His throat felt tight, the familiar surge of panic rising. Don’t let them see. Don’t let them know.

  “I… uh…” he stumbled, trying to appear casual, raking a hand over the zipper. “I guess… it got caught on something. Maybe… dust? Yeah, some… fiber.”

  “Fiber?” his mom asked, voice sharp with suspicion. “Ethan… that looks like… that’s— we don’t have a pet.”

  “Nope. No pets,” he said quickly, keeping his tone light but his pulse racing. “Just… uh… I guess it came from a bnket or something at school? Maybe the cafeteria table. You know, fibers…”

  His mother’s eyes narrowed, scanning his face for any hint of deception. She opened her mouth to say something else, but Mira stepped in smoothly, pcing a hand on her mother’s arm.

  “Mom,” Mira said, voice steady, though her gaze flicked to Ethan meaningfully, “it’s fine. Probably just a stray from the bnket at the gardens. Nothing weird.”

  Ethan exhaled quietly, grateful for Mira’s quick intervention. Ethan loved Mira's, protective presence — the knowledge she had, the silent understanding — was enough to ease the immediate panic.

  His mother’s frown lingered, but she let it go, returning to the stove. Yui, meanwhile, looked curious but distracted, tugging at her breakfast pte and murmuring something about toast.

  Ethan slid past them, careful to keep the backpack upright so the fur tuft didn’t fall further, heart hammering. Every step was heavy, every breath a battle against the weight of Eri pressing just beneath the surface. The neckce, cold and hard against his skin, was a constant reminder that the real Eri — the one he craved to be — was locked away inside him.

  He kept his hands in his pockets, shoulders tight, and moved toward the door. Each step felt unnatural, like moving through water. His ears wanted to twitch at every sound, wanted to mimick the subtle awareness Eri always carried.

  As he slipped out the door and toward the car, he could feel the pull inside him. Eri stirred, curling against the edge of his consciousness, whispering in ways he could almost feel rather than hear. She was impatient, longing, desperate. Every inch of his body wanted to break free.

  But he couldn’t. Not yet. Not in front of everyone.

  He climbed into the backseat, backpack secure, trying to ignore the faint, unyielding memory of his tails brushing against his skin and the way his ears had always twitched at the slightest sound. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to focus, forcing himself to be Ethan — the “normal” son, the “ordinary” student.

  Yet even as the car began to move, the glimmer of the neckce against his chest, the memory of his tails, and the raw ache of Eri’s presence inside him were a constant reminder: the longer he stayed trapped, the stronger the desire grew. The longing to shatter the neckce, to recim himself fully, was no longer just a thought — it was a pulse, insistent and demanding, growing louder with every passing second.

  By the time the streets of their neighborhood came into view, Ethan’s hands were clenched tightly in his p. He didn’t look at the houses, the sidewalks, or the trees. He focused only on the unyielding weight of the neckce, the faint twitch of his internal tails, the ache in his chest.

  Today, he reminded himself, he would survive. He would make it through school. He would endure.

  But deep inside, Eri stirred. And deep inside, the idea began to crystallize: one day… one day this will end. One day I’ll break it. And I’ll never be trapped again.

  And that thought — sharp, intoxicating, and impossible to ignore — burned brighter than the morning sun.

  AnnouncementI'm sorry there will be no chapter today I had no time to write at all