Dinner had gone… surprisingly normal.
Not perfectly normal — that would have been impossible — but normal enough that nobody had panicked, nobody had asked the wrong questions, and nobody had tried to pretend Alex hadn’t just been casually added to the family table like he’d always belonged there.
Mom had handled it with careful calm.Mira had watched everything like a silent supervisor.Yui had asked way too many questions until Mira kicked her lightly under the table.
And Eri…
Eri had slowly stopped sitting like she was about to bolt through a wall.
By the time ptes were cleared, she’d even ughed once.
Just once — but it counted.
Now the house had settled into evening quiet.
Lights dimmer.TV glow soft against the walls.The outside world faded into distant street sounds.
Eri sat cross-legged on the carpet in front of the TV, controller in hand, ears forward in intense concentration. Her tails spread behind her in a wide fan, shifting unconsciously every few seconds as she leaned into the game.
Alex sat beside her on the couch.
He probably should’ve sat on the floor too.
But at some point Yui had occupied half the space and Mira had disappeared upstairs, leaving Alex in the awkward middle ground — close enough to see the screen comfortably…
And very close to Eri.
Too close.
“HEY — that was cheap!” Eri protested, leaning forward. “You can’t just spam that move!”
“It’s the only move you die to,” Alex said.
“It is not—”
Her character unched forward.
Immediate defeat.
The screen fshed YOU LOSE.
Eri froze.
Her ears lowered slowly.
“…I demand a rematch.”
Alex smirked. “You’ve demanded five rematches.”
“And I’ll demand six.”
“You haven’t won one.”
She turned to gre at him — cheeks puffed slightly — and for a split second he forgot what he was saying.
Because she wasn’t Ethan.
Not even slightly.
The expressions were different. Softer but sharper somehow. Her voice carried a tone he’d never heard before. Even the way she moved — small shifts of posture, ears reacting before her face did — made his brain keep trying to reconcile two people into one.
He forced himself to look back at the screen.
“Fine,” he said. “Last one.”
The next match started.
Eri leaned forward again, fully invested, tails swishing faster with every second.
Then one of them brushed his arm.
He ignored it.
Another slid across the back of his hand resting near the cushion.
He stiffened slightly.
She didn’t notice.
Her focus had completely locked onto the game.
“Okay — okay — I’ve got this — I’ve got this—”
A tail looped lightly over his wrist.
Alex’s thoughts derailed.
He stared at it.
Soft. Warm. Moving faintly with her breathing.
He tried to concentrate on the game again.
Then two more tails shifted — adjusting her bance — and loosely draped across his p.
His brain stopped cooperating.
“Why are you just standing there??” she demanded at the screen. “Move!”
“I— I am—”
He definitely wasn’t.
His character walked straight off the ptform.
KO
Eri blinked.
Then slowly turned toward him.
“…you didn’t even try.”
He cleared his throat. “Lag.”
“There is no g. We’re on the same console and screen.”
“Controller issue.”
She leaned closer, suspicious.
“You were winning two seconds ago.”
Another tail tightened slightly around his arm.
Not intentional — just instinctive positioning — but it made his shoulders lock.
Eri followed his gaze.
She looked down.
Then at her tails.
Then at his arm.
Her ears shot straight upright.
“Oh.”
The tails immediately recoiled — except they didn’t untangle cleanly, one catching lightly against his sleeve before slipping free.
“Sorry!” she blurted, face instantly red. “I wasn’t— I didn’t— they just—”
“It’s fine,” he said quickly.
Too quickly.
They both froze for a second.
The game music kept cheerfully pying in the background.
Eri slowly turned back to the screen, trying very hard to act normal.
“…rematch?” she asked quietly.
“Yeah.”
They restarted.
This time she sat a little straighter.
Her tails tucked closer together behind her — carefully controlled now — though every now and then one betrayed her by twitching toward him before she pulled it back.
Alex tried to focus.
He really did.
But now every small movement registered — the flick of her ear when something surprised her, the way her shoulders lifted when concentrating, the slight sway when she leaned side to side with the game.
And the fact she smelled faintly like the shampoo she’d used earlier.
His brain was being extremely unhelpful.
“You’re doing it again,” she said.
“Doing what?”
“Not pying.”
He blinked. His character stood motionless while hers attacked repeatedly.
“Oh.”
He grabbed the controller properly again. “Sorry.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“…you’re acting weird.”
He paused.
“…you turned into a girl.”
She opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Her ears lowered halfway.
“…fair.”
Silence hung between them for a moment — not uncomfortable, just honest.
Then she said softly, without looking at him,
“I don’t know how to act either.”
He nodded.
“Good. Because my brain keeps trying to match you to… before.”
She hugged a pillow closer.
“I don’t feel like before.”
“I can tell.”
A small pause.
“…is it bad?” she asked quietly.
He shook his head immediately.
“No.”
She gnced sideways at him.
“…really?”
“Really.”
Her tails rexed slightly again — one brushing his ankle before she noticed and quickly gathered them back in.
He smiled faintly.
“You don’t have to keep pulling them back.”
Her ears tilted uncertainly.
“…you don’t mind?”
He looked at the screen, then back at her.
“I’d be a hypocrite if I came here and acted like I did.”
The tension in her shoulders eased — just a little.
They pyed again.
This time neither mentioned when a tail slowly rested against his side.
And neither of them moved away.
AnnouncementTodays an early chapter because I can't make one ter because of time reasons