Mira stood slowly, deliberately, as if the room itself might shatter if she moved too fast.

  Eri watched her with wide, frightened eyes, ears pinned ft against her hair, tails drawn close around her waist and legs like a living shield. Every sound outside the door felt amplified—the scrape of metal, the impatient shifting of feet, Yui’s small, anxious breathing.

  “I’m going to step out,” Mira said quietly. Her voice was calm, but her eyes carried urgency. “I’ll stall them. Buy you time.”

  Eri’s breath hitched. Her tails tightened instinctively, the soft fur brushing her arms as panic surged again. Alone? The thought terrified her. What if Mom forced her way in? What if Yui saw her? What if—

  “Mira—” Eri whispered.

  Mira crouched in front of her, pcing both hands gently on Eri’s knees. “Listen to me. Do not move. Do not come near the door. Stay low, stay quiet.” She softened her voice further. “I won’t let them rush you. I promise.”

  Eri nodded shakily. Her ears flicked once, betraying her fear, but she forced herself still.

  Mira stood, took a steadying breath, and unlocked the door just enough to slip out, closing it behind her with careful precision.

  The hallway felt instantly louder.

  Mom was right there, hand still holding a bent paperclip, her face tight with worry and irritation. Yui hovered just behind her, clutching the hem of her shirt.

  “Mira,” Mom snapped, relief and frustration colliding. “Why was the door locked? What’s going on with your brother?”

  Mira didn’t miss a beat. She stepped fully into the hall, deliberately blocking the door with her body. “He’s overwhelmed. Like—really overwhelmed.”

  Mom frowned. “That doesn’t expin locking the door and ignoring us again and again.”

  “I know,” Mira said evenly. “But yelling and trying to force it open isn’t helping.”

  Yui looked up at her, eyes wide. “Is Ethan sick?”

  Mira hesitated—just long enough to be believable. “Something like that.”

  Mom’s worry sharpened. “Mira, move. I need to see him.”

  “He’s not decent,” Mira said quickly. “He changed clothes and then panicked. Please. Just give him a few minutes.”

  Mom narrowed her eyes. “You’re hiding something.”

  “No,” Mira said, voice firm but controlled. “I’m protecting him.”

  That word—protecting—seemed to nd hard.

  Mom opened her mouth to argue—

  And then the door behind Mira creaked.

  Just slightly.

  Inside the room, Eri hadn’t meant to move.

  But her tail—one of the outer ones—had twitched.

  The faintest rustle of fur brushed against the doorframe.

  Mom’s eyes flicked instinctively past Mira’s shoulder.

  Time fractured.

  She saw white.

  Not clearly. Not fully.

  Just a blur of pale fur near the edge of the bed. A soft, unnatural curve where there shouldn’t have been one.

  And above it—just for a split second—a pointed shape near a head of dark hair. Not hair. Something else.

  Mom froze.

  Her breath caught audibly.

  “What…?” she whispered.

  Mira reacted instantly, smming her hand ft against the door and pushing it shut with her shoulder. “Mom.”

  “What was that,” Mom said sharply now, stepping forward. “I saw something.”

  “You didn’t,” Mira said, heart pounding.

  “I did,” Mom snapped. Her voice trembled—not with anger, but fear. “Mira, move. Right now.”

  Yui clutched Mom’s arm. “Mom? What did you see?”

  Mom didn’t answer her. Her gaze stayed locked on the door, as if it might sprout eyes.

  Inside the room, Eri had gone completely still.

  Her heart hammered so hard it felt like it might shake her apart. Her ears were ft, burning with shame and terror, and all ten tails had frozen mid-coil, muscles locked tight beneath the fur.

  She saw me.

  The realization nded like ice in her chest.

  Not fully. Not enough to understand.

  But enough to know something was wrong.

  Mom stepped closer again. “Mira. Open the door.”

  “No,” Mira said, and this time there was no softness in her voice.

  Mom stared at her oldest daughter, truly stared, as if seeing her for the first time. “You’re choosing this over me?”

  “I’m choosing Ethan,” Mira said quietly. “The same way you would if you knew how much he was hurting.”

  Mom shook her head, breathing uneven now. “That wasn’t… normal. That wasn’t clothing. That wasn’t—”

  “I know,” Mira said.

  That stopped her.

  Mom’s eyes snapped back to Mira’s face. “You know?”

  Silence stretched between them, thick and dangerous.

  Yui whimpered softly. “Mira, you’re scaring me.”

  Mira exhaled slowly. “Yui, go downstairs, okay? Please. I’ll come get you soon.”

  “I don’t want to—”

  “Yui,” Mom said, distracted, eyes never leaving the door. “Do what your sister says.”

  Reluctantly, Yui turned and padded down the stairs, casting one st confused look over her shoulder.

  When she was gone, the house felt hollow.

  Mom lowered her voice. “What is in that room.”

  Mira swallowed. “Someone who needs time.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “It’s the only one I can give you right now.”

  Mom reached for the doorknob again.

  Mira caught her wrist.

  “Don’t,” she said sharply.

  Mom recoiled, stunned. “You don’t touch me like that.”

  “I’m sorry,” Mira said immediately, releasing her. “But please. If you force this… you can’t take it back.”

  Mom’s voice wavered. “I am his mother.”

  “And I am his sister,” Mira replied. “And I’m asking you to trust me.”

  Behind the door, Eri slid down the wall silently, knees drawn to her chest, tails wrapping around her completely now, cocooning her in warmth that did nothing to stop the shaking.

  Her ears rang.

  Her mind screamed.

  She saw me. She saw me. She saw me.

  The broken neckce y hidden beneath her pillow, useless and cold. There was no escape. No easy switch. No Ethan to hide behind.

  Mom stepped back slowly, hand pressed to her mouth. “That wasn’t possible,” she murmured. “We don’t have pets. We don’t have—”

  “Mira,” she said suddenly, eyes sharp again. “If he’s hurt—if this is something dangerous—”

  “There's nothing dangerous,” Mira said fiercely. “He’s just scared.”

  Mom closed her eyes.

  When she opened them again, they were wet.

  “I’m not ready for this,” she whispered.

  “Neither is he,” Mira said softly.

  They stood there, divided by a door, by fear, by something neither of them had words for yet.

  Inside the room, Eri buried her face against her knees, tails trembling around her, ears ringing with the echo of that glimpse—silver, fur, wrong.

  The secret was cracking.

  And this time, there would be no pretending it hadn’t.

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