The wall had twenty-three dents.
Hiro knew because he'd counted them last night while waiting for his knuckles to stop bleeding. Twenty-three fist-shaped craters in the drywall, each one covered by a carefully placed poster—a band here, an anime character there, a scenic landscape in the corner. To anyone else, his room looked like a typical teenage boy's space: cluttered desk, unmade bed, clothes draped over a chair.
But Hiro knew what hid beneath the posters.
He stood before the wall now in the grey morning light, his right fist clenched so tightly his nails dug crescents into his palm. The bruises on his knuckles had faded to a sickly yellow-green, old wounds that never quite healed before new ones replaced them. He took a slow breath—in through the nose, out through the mouth, the way his grandmother had taught him—and forced his fingers to uncurl, one by one.
Control, he reminded himself. Always control.
His school uniform hung on the back of his door: the crisp white shirt, the navy blazer with Seika Academy's crest embroidered on the breast pocket, the grey slacks pressed into perfect creases by his mother the night before. He dressed mechanically, his movements precise and practiced, tucking in his shirt with military efficiency, straightening his collar until it sat just right.
The mirror above his dresser reflected a face he'd learned to arrange into something acceptable. Dark hair that fell across his forehead just so. Grey eyes that gave away nothing. A mouth that could curve into a smile on command.
He practiced that smile now, watching his reflection like an actor preparing for a performance.
"Another day," he said softly, his voice deeper than most seventeen-year-olds, a gift from his father's side of the family.
The smile looked convincing enough. It touched the corners of his mouth, created the appropriate wrinkles around his eyes, even showed a hint of teeth. Perfect.
The smile didn't reach his eyes.
It never did.
The morning air carried the sweet scent of cherry blossoms as Hiro approached Seika Academy, petals drifting down like pink snow to carpet the sidewalk. It was the kind of picture-perfect scene that belonged on a postcard or in the opening credits of some optimistic slice-of-life anime. Students in matching uniforms streamed through the ornate iron gates, their laughter echoing off the school's pristine white walls.
Hiro walked among them, a ghost in plain sight.
"Hiro!" A hand clapped on his shoulder, and he turned to find Kenji Yamamoto grinning at him, his round face flushed from running. "Wait up, man!"
"Morning, Kenji." Hiro's smile activated automatically, the practiced one he'd perfected in the mirror.
"Did you finish the math homework? Problem seven is killing me. I spent like two hours on it and I'm pretty sure my answer is—"
"Negative twelve point five," Hiro supplied, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. "You probably forgot to account for the coefficient in the second equation."
"See, this is why you're a lifesaver." Kenji fell into step beside him, still talking about derivatives and tangent lines, his words washing over Hiro like white noise.
They passed through the gates with dozens of other students, all chattering about their weekends and upcoming exams and who was dating whom. Normal things. Human things. The spring sun warmed Hiro's face, and for a moment—just a moment—he let himself imagine this was real. That he truly belonged here, among these people, living their uncomplicated lives.
Then the crowd ahead of them stopped.
It wasn't a gradual thing. One moment, the flow of students moved steadily toward the main building; the next, they'd frozen in place as if someone had pressed pause on reality itself. The chatter died. Even Kenji stopped mid-sentence, his mouth hanging open.
Hiro followed their collective gaze to the gates.
She stood there like an apparition, backlit by the morning sun so that her white fur seemed to glow with an otherworldly radiance. She was shorter than most of the students, maybe five-foot-three, with a slender frame that the modified Seika Academy uniform couldn't quite disguise. But it was her distinctly non-human features that held everyone's attention:
White fur covered her arms and legs, soft and pristine like fresh snow. It continued up her neck and across her face, though thinner there, allowing her delicate bone structure to show through. Large wolf ears—the same snowy white—sat atop her head, twitching nervously as they swiveled to capture every whispered word, every sharp intake of breath. Her golden eyes darted from face to face, searching for something—acceptance, maybe, or at least the absence of hostility. And behind her, barely visible beneath the hem of her modified skirt, a fluffy white tail tucked tightly between her legs.
A beast folk. A full beast folk, not even a demi-human. Here. At Seika Academy.
Hiro's chest tightened.
"Holy shit," Kenji breathed beside him. "Is that... is that what I think it is?"
The whispers started then, spreading through the crowd like wildfire:
"A beast? At our school?"
"I heard they were doing some kind of integration experiment, but I didn't think—"
"God, can you imagine having to sit next to that thing in class?"
"My mom's going to freak when I tell her. She already thinks the school is too progressive."
"Does she have fleas? She probably has fleas."
"I'm transferring. I swear to God, I'm transferring."
Hiro's hands clenched into fists inside his blazer pockets. His nails bit into his palms, grounding him, keeping him from doing something stupid like shouting at all of them to shut up, to look at her face and see the fear there, the way her ears pressed flat against her skull, the trembling in her shoulders as she clutched her bag like a lifeline.
They don't understand, he told himself. They can't understand.
But he did. Oh, he understood perfectly.
The beast girl—Luna, according to the papers his mother had been reading about the school's new "inclusive education initiative"—took a hesitant step forward. The crowd parted before her, students physically recoiling as if she carried some contagious disease. A group of third-year boys brushed past her, and one of them "accidentally" knocked into her shoulder.
"Watch it, mutt," the boy sneered, not bothering to look back.
His friends laughed, the sound sharp and cruel in the spring morning.
Luna's bag fell from her hands, spilling papers and textbooks across the cherry blossom-strewn path. She dropped to her knees immediately, gathering them with shaking hands, her ears pinned so flat to her head they almost disappeared in her hair. Her tail had curled even tighter beneath her skirt, and Hiro knew—he knew—she was fighting back tears.
"Jesus," Kenji muttered, though whether in sympathy or disgust, Hiro couldn't tell. "This is going to be a disaster. My older sister graduated last year, and she said there were talks about this integration thing, but everyone thought it was just political posturing. Can't believe they actually went through with it."
Hiro didn't respond. He watched Luna collect the last of her papers, watched her stand on unsteady legs, watched her take another step into enemy territory. No one helped her. No one even looked at her directly, as if making eye contact might somehow contaminate them.
The morning bell rang, and the crowd began to move again, flowing around Luna like water around a stone. She stood frozen in place for a moment, her golden eyes wide and lost, before forcing herself forward.
Hiro lost sight of her in the press of bodies.
His hands were shaking in his pockets.
Hiro's first two periods passed in a blur of equations and historical dates, his mind elsewhere even as his hand moved across his notebook in neat, precise lines. By the time the break bell rang, his leg was bouncing under his desk, restless energy building in his chest like steam in a pressure cooker.
He needed to move. To breathe. To hit something.
The hallway was packed with students transitioning between classes, their voices a dull roar that pressed against Hiro's ears. He navigated through them with practiced ease, keeping his head down, his expression neutral, just another face in the crowd. At the intersection where the main hallway split into three different corridors, he veered left, away from the traffic, toward the rarely-used side passage that led to the old music wing.
The noise faded as he rounded the corner, replaced by the kind of silence that only came from empty spaces in the middle of a school day. Hiro's shoulders loosened slightly. The pressure in his chest eased. He flexed his hands, feeling the pull of half-healed bruises across his knuckles.
That's when he heard it: a soft, hitching breath that he recognized instantly as someone trying very hard not to cry.
He stopped walking.
There, in the shadowy alcove beside a row of dusty lockers, sat Luna Shirohane. She'd pulled her knees up to her chest, her tail wrapped around her legs, her face buried in her arms. Her whole body trembled with the effort of silent tears, her white ears pressed so flat they almost disappeared against her skull.
Hiro stood there, frozen in the middle of the hallway, his mind racing. He could keep walking. Should keep walking. Getting involved would be complicated, would draw attention, would risk—
Luna looked up.
Their eyes met—his grey, hers gold—and the fear in her expression hit him like a physical blow. She expected mockery. Expected cruelty. Expected him to be like all the others.
He found himself walking toward her before he'd consciously made the decision.
Her body tensed as he approached, coiling like a spring ready to bolt. Up close, he could see the tear tracks matting the fur on her cheeks, the redness around her eyes, the way her hands gripped her uniform skirt so tightly her knuckles—furless, he noticed, just skin covered in fine white hair—had gone pale.
Hiro stopped a respectful distance away and did something that felt as natural as breathing despite the years he'd spent suppressing it: he let his guard down. Let his expression soften into something real, something gentle, something that said I see you, and I don't look away.
"Lost?" His voice came out quieter than usual, pitched low so only she could hear.
Luna blinked, surprise cutting through her fear. She wiped at her eyes quickly, almost frantically, trying to compose herself. "I... yes. I'm trying to find... Class 2-B?"
She held up a piece of paper—her schedule, crumpled from being gripped too tightly—and Hiro could see the confusion in her face, the way her ears swiveled toward different sounds in the building, trying to orient herself in unfamiliar territory.
He glanced at the schedule, then at the hallway around them. "Wrong floor. You want the third floor, east wing."
He pointed toward the stairwell at the end of the hall, the one partially hidden behind a support column. "Take those stairs. Turn right at the top. Second door on your left."
Luna stared at him as if he'd just spoken a foreign language. Her mouth opened, closed, opened again. "You're... helping me?"
The genuine shock in her voice made something twist in Hiro's chest. He tilted his head slightly, confused by the question. "Why wouldn't I?"
"Because I'm..." She gestured at herself—at her ears, her fur, her tail—and couldn't seem to find the words to finish the sentence.
The silence stretched between them, heavy with all the things she wasn't saying: Because I'm a beast. Because I'm different. Because everyone else treated me like I'm worth less than the dirt on their shoes.
Hiro's smile turned sad without him meaning it to. "A student," he said softly. "Like me."
He watched the words land, watched them register in her golden eyes like stones dropped in still water. Her ears lifted slightly from their flattened position. Her tail uncurled just a fraction.
He should go. He had class. But something held him there for another moment, something that recognized itself in her fear and isolation.
"Welcome to Seika Academy," he said, then turned and walked away before he could do something stupid like offer to escort her to class or ask if she was okay or any of the other things that pressed against his teeth, demanding to be said.
Behind him, he heard her whisper: "Who... who was that?"
Hiro smiled, a real smile this time, and kept walking.
Class 2-B fell silent the moment Luna stepped through the door.
Hiro was already at his desk near the window, a battered copy of a sci-fi novel open in front of him, when he felt the temperature in the room change. Every head turned. Every conversation stopped. Even Kenji, who'd been enthusiastically describing some new video game, trailed off mid-sentence.
Hiro didn't need to look up to know who'd entered. He could feel the sudden tension in the air, could hear the shocked gasps and whispered exclamations, could practically taste the fear and disgust rolling off his classmates in waves.
He forced himself to keep his eyes on his book, on the words that had ceased to make any sense, because looking up would mean seeing, and seeing would make him feel, and feeling would make him react.
Ms. Tanaka cleared her throat sharply, the sound cutting through the whispers like a knife. "Ah." Her voice was carefully neutral, the kind of neutral that was somehow worse than outright hostility. "You must be the transfer student."
Hiro's grip on his book tightened.
"Class," Ms. Tanaka continued, with all the enthusiasm of someone announcing a root canal, "this is Luna Shirohane. She'll be joining us this semester as part of the school's new integration initiative."
No one applauded. No one welcomed her. The silence was absolute, broken only by the sound of Luna's soft footsteps and the subtle swish of her tail as she moved.
"You may sit..." Ms. Tanaka paused, scanning the room with the air of someone solving a complicated puzzle. "In the back. There, by the window."
Hiro's head snapped up before he could stop himself.
There were empty seats everywhere. The desk beside Ayaka Kujou in the second row. The one next to Kenji in the middle. Three desks in the front row sat vacant because their usual occupants were out sick.
But Ms. Tanaka was directing Luna to the very back corner, as far from everyone else as physically possible while still being in the same room.
Luna walked the gauntlet. Hiro watched students lean away from her as she passed, watched them pull their bags and belongings closer as if proximity to her might somehow contaminate their possessions. Ayaka actually held a handkerchief to her nose, her pretty face twisted in exaggerated disgust.
Luna's ears were flat again. Her tail dragged on the floor.
She reached the designated desk and sat down carefully, as if afraid the chair might collapse beneath her. The desks around her—in front, behind, to the sides—remained conspicuously empty even though the room was crowded enough that several students had to share tables.
She was an island. Quarantined. Isolated.
Hiro's hands clenched into fists under his desk.
Ms. Tanaka launched into the morning announcements—upcoming exams, a reminder about the volleyball tournament, some fundraiser for the student council—and life resumed around Luna as if she didn't exist. Students whispered and passed notes and texted under their desks, the buzz of normal teenage activity that specifically excluded the white-furred girl sitting alone in the corner.
Hiro tried to focus on his book, on the adventures of some spaceship crew exploring distant galaxies, but his eyes kept drifting to the back of the room. Luna sat perfectly still, her hands folded on her desk, her golden eyes fixed on the blackboard with desperate concentration. But he could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her ears twitched at every whispered comment, catching words not meant for her but definitely about her.
This is wrong, something howled inside him, something he kept carefully locked away, something with sharp teeth and sharper rage. This is wrong, wrong, WRONG—
He forced it down. Breathed. Counted backward from ten.
Control.
The rest of the morning was a masterclass in casual cruelty.
In math class, Mr. Ishida called on students to solve problems on the board. Luna raised her hand—tentatively at first, then with more confidence when the teacher worked through an equation she clearly understood. Her hand stayed raised for five minutes, ten, fifteen, while Mr. Ishida called on literally every other student in the class, including Kenji, who openly admitted he had no idea how to solve the problem.
Luna's hand slowly lowered. Her ears drooped.
In literature class, Mrs. Sato assigned group discussions about their current reading, a modern novel about family and identity. "Form groups of four," she instructed, and the class immediately erupted into motion, friends clustering together, desks scraping across the floor.
Luna stood awkwardly by her desk, looking around for a group to join. Hiro watched three different clusters of students actively turn their backs to her, watched them count heads with exaggerated precision—"One, two, three, four, oh sorry, we're full!"—until Luna was the only one left standing.
Mrs. Sato barely glanced at her. "You can work independently for today."
So Luna sat alone while groups of four laughed and debated and bonded over shared analysis, her copy of the book open to the correct page, her pen moving across her notebook in careful, lonely strokes.
By science class, Hiro was gripping his desk so hard he worried the wood might crack.
Mr. Nakamura cheerfully assigned lab partners for the semester's chemistry experiments. "Let's see... Kenji with Yuki, Hiro with Takeshi, Ayaka with..." He consulted his seating chart. "Ah. With Luna."
Ayaka's face went through several interesting color changes—white, then red, then purple. "Sensei," she said, her voice dripping with sugar-coated venom, "I'm actually severely allergic to animal dander. My doctor says I need to avoid prolonged exposure to fur, or I could have an asthma attack."
Luna's ears pinned flat.
"Oh." Mr. Nakamura blinked, flustered. "Well, we can't have that. Um... Luna, you can work alone, and Ayaka can pair with Miki instead."
"Thank you, Sensei." Ayaka's smile was sharp enough to cut glass. "I'd hate to have a medical emergency because the school wasn't accommodating."
Alone. Again. Luna moved her stool to a table by herself, set up her equipment with careful precision, and pretended very hard that she couldn't hear Ayaka and her friends giggling in the corner.
Hiro's lab partner, Takeshi, was a nice enough guy—quiet, studious, wore thick glasses that constantly slid down his nose. But even he leaned close to Hiro during their titration experiment and whispered, "Heard she smells like wet dog when it rains. My older brother's girlfriend is in her homeroom."
Hiro said nothing. He focused on the beaker in front of him, on the careful addition of reagents, on anything other than the red haze creeping into the edges of his vision.
His hands didn't shake. They couldn't. He wouldn't let them.
But the beast inside him growled, rattling the cage of his carefully constructed control.
Lunch period couldn't come fast enough.
Hiro grabbed his bento from his locker and headed straight for the courtyard, bypassing the crowded cafeteria with its long tables and social hierarchies. The courtyard was quieter, dotted with cherry trees and wooden benches, and most students preferred to eat inside where the air conditioning kept them comfortable.
Hiro preferred the open air. Room to breathe.
He found his usual spot—a patch of grass beneath an old cherry tree whose branches hung low enough to provide shade—and was settling down with his lunch when he saw her.
Luna sat on the far side of the courtyard, tucked against the trunk of another tree, small and alone and hunched over like she was trying to disappear into herself. Her tail was wrapped around her body, and her ears swiveled constantly, monitoring the few students who'd also chosen to eat outside.
Her homemade bento sat open on her lap—rice balls carefully shaped into rounds, vegetables cut into neat pieces, someone's loving work—but she hadn't touched any of it. She just stared at the food like it was a puzzle she couldn't solve.
Hiro stood before he'd consciously made the decision. His feet carried him across the courtyard, past the artificial pond with its lazy koi, past the flower beds maintained by the gardening club, until he stood a few feet from Luna's tree.
She looked up sharply, her golden eyes wide and startled, and for a second, Hiro saw genuine fear in them—the instinctive fear of a prey animal confronted by a predator.
The irony wasn't lost on him.
"Mind if I sit?" His voice was soft, non-threatening, the same tone he'd used in the hallway that morning.
Luna's mouth opened. Closed. She looked around as if expecting hidden cameras, a cruel prank, something. "You... want to sit with me?"
Instead of answering, Hiro simply sat down beside her—not too close, leaving a respectful distance of about two feet, but close enough to be sharing space rather than merely occupying the same area. He opened his lunch and pulled out his chopsticks with practiced efficiency.
The silence stretched. Luna stared at him like he was some exotic creature she couldn't quite identify.
"Why are you doing this?" she finally asked, her voice small and confused.
"Doing what?" Hiro took a bite of his lunch—his mother's tamagoyaki, still his favorite even after seventeen years—and chewed thoughtfully.
"Being nice to me. Sitting with me. Everyone else..." She made a vague gesture encompassing the entire school, the entire world, the entire weight of society's rejection.
Hiro swallowed his food and looked at her directly. Really looked at her, meeting those golden eyes with his grey ones. He saw fear there, yes, but also determination. Loneliness. A desperate hope that maybe, just maybe, not everyone in this place was cruel.
He saw himself, reflected in her pain.
"Everyone else is afraid of what they don't understand," he said quietly. "I'm not."
Luna's ears perked up slightly, swiveling toward him. "But... I'm a beast. You're human. We're not supposed to—"
"Says who?" Hiro interrupted gently, not harshly, just... matter-of-factly. As if the question itself was absurd.
Luna had no answer to that. Her mouth worked silently, trying to form arguments that she'd probably heard a thousand times—society says, history says, the law says, common sense says—but none of them seemed adequate in the face of his simple question.
Says who?
Hiro smiled, that soft, sad smile that came too easily these days, and turned his attention back to his lunch. "You should eat. You haven't touched your food."
For a long moment, Luna didn't move. Then, slowly, hesitantly, like someone reaching toward a possibly dangerous animal, she picked up one of her rice balls. She took a tiny bite. Then another.
They ate in silence, the spring breeze rustling through cherry blossoms above them, sending petals drifting down like pink snow. Somewhere nearby, a group of girls laughed about something. A soccer ball bounced across the grass, chased by shouting boys. Life continued around them, oblivious and uncaring.
But in their small bubble beneath the cherry tree, something shifted.
Luna's tail, which had been wrapped so tightly around her body, slowly began to loosen. It uncurled by degrees, until it was merely resting beside her rather than cinched in fear. And then—so gradually she didn't even seem to notice—it began to wag. Just slightly. Just a gentle side-to-side motion that spoke of contentment, of happiness, of something approaching peace.
Hiro noticed. He watched from the corner of his eye as Luna's whole body language transformed, as her ears lifted to their natural position, as her shoulders relaxed, as she took actual interest in her food.
His smile became more genuine. Warmer.
There, he thought. That's better.
They finished their lunch in companionable silence, and when the bell rang signaling the end of the period, they stood together.
"Thank you," Luna said softly. "For sitting with me."
"No thanks needed." Hiro brushed cherry blossom petals from his uniform. "Same time tomorrow?"
Luna's eyes went wide. Her tail started wagging again, faster this time. "You... you want to do this again?"
"If you do."
"Yes!" The word burst out of her before she could stop it, loud and enthusiastic, and she immediately clamped her hand over her mouth, ears pinning back in embarrassment.
Hiro laughed—a soft, genuine sound that surprised even him. "Tomorrow, then."
They walked back toward the school building together, and Hiro pretended not to notice the stares, the whispers, the way Ayaka Kujou's pretty face twisted into something ugly as she watched them pass.
Let them stare, he thought. Let them wonder.
Afternoon classes crawled by with the same painful slowness as the morning, but Luna felt... different. Lighter, somehow, like someone had removed a weight from her shoulders that she'd been carrying so long she'd forgotten what it felt like to stand straight.
She had a friend. An actual friend.
The thought kept repeating in her mind like a mantra as she suffered through modern Japanese (where the teacher called on her once and frowned at her accent, even though her answer was correct) and world history (where her group project partners introduced themselves with all the enthusiasm of pallbearers at a funeral).
Hiro wants to have lunch with me again tomorrow.
It was a small thing, objectively. One person being kind. One person treating her like a person instead of a contamination risk. But it felt like a lifeline thrown to someone drowning in deep water, and Luna grabbed onto it with both hands.
The final bell rang at 3:30 PM, releasing students from their academic obligations. Luna packed her bag slowly, taking her time organizing her books and papers, hoping the hallways would clear out before she had to navigate them. But when she stood to leave, she found her path blocked.
Ayaka Kujou stood there with three other girls flanking her like an honor guard. All of them were beautiful in that effortless way some humans achieved—perfectly styled hair, artfully applied makeup that looked natural, expensive accessories that somehow didn't violate uniform code. They looked like they'd stepped out of a fashion magazine.
They looked at Luna like she was something stuck to the bottom of their shoes.
"So." Ayaka's voice was pleasant, conversational, which somehow made it worse. "You're the beast everyone's talking about."
Luna's ears flattened instinctively. She fought to keep her voice steady. "My name is Luna."
"I don't care what your name is." Ayaka examined her nails with exaggerated disinterest. "I care that you're contaminating our school. Our space. Our air."
Her friends giggled, a sound like breaking glass.
Luna's hands clenched on her bag strap. "I'm not here to cause trouble. I just want to learn, to—"
"To what? Prove that beasts are just as good as humans?" Ayaka's laugh was cold. "Please. You don't belong here. You'll never belong here. Go back to whatever hole you crawled out of."
The words hit like physical blows, each one finding a weak spot, a fear Luna had been carrying since she first learned about the integration program. They'll never accept you. You're not good enough. You're not—
"And especially," Ayaka continued, her voice dropping to something dangerous, "stay away from Hiro Mizuki."
Luna's ears perked up despite herself. "Hiro? Why—?"
"Because he's mine." Ayaka's perfect face transformed into something ugly, possessive. "We've been in the same class since elementary school. I've been patient, giving him time, but this year..." She smiled, sharp and predatory. "This year, I'm making my move. And I won't have some animal thinking she has a chance."
"I don't—I wasn't—" Luna stammered, her face heating beneath her fur. "We're just friends!"
"Friends?" Ayaka made the word sound ridiculous. "Humans and beasts can't be friends. That's not how the world works. He's probably just being nice because he feels sorry for you. Or maybe," her smile turned cruel, "he's mocking you. Making you think he cares, only to humiliate you later."
The words found their mark. Luna's tail tucked between her legs automatically, an involuntary response to the fear that maybe—maybe—Ayaka was right. Maybe Hiro's kindness was a joke. Maybe she was being stupid, naive, desperate—
"Remember your place, beast." Ayaka swept past her, her friends following in her wake like a poisonous cloud. "Stay away from what's mine."
They left, their laughter echoing down the hallway.
Luna stood there, shaking, her vision blurred with tears she refused to let fall. Not here. Not where someone might see.
She gathered her things and ran.
The school rooftop was technically off-limits during after-school hours, but the door's lock had been broken for months and administration hadn't bothered to fix it. Students used it occasionally for private phone calls or cigarette breaks, but by 4 PM, it was usually deserted.
Luna pushed through the door and stumbled onto the roof, the late afternoon sun hitting her face like a physical thing. The city spread out before her, a maze of buildings and streets and lives she'd never be part of. The beast folk district where she lived was visible in the distance—a cluster of older buildings, smaller homes, the visible demarcation line where society had decided those people belonged.
She walked to the railing on shaking legs and gripped it hard enough to hurt, her claws leaving small scratches in the metal.
Maybe Ayaka's right, she thought miserably. Maybe I don't belong here. Maybe this whole thing was a mistake, and I should just—
The door opened behind her.
Luna spun around, wiping frantically at her eyes, trying to compose herself. But when she saw who'd found her, she froze.
Hiro stood there, silhouetted against the doorway, his school bag slung over one shoulder. He looked surprised to see her, but not... displeased? His grey eyes were soft, concerned.
"How did you...?" Luna couldn't finish the question.
"I saw you run up here." Hiro let the door close behind him and walked slowly toward the railing, giving her space to flee if she wanted. "Wanted to make sure you're okay."
Luna barked out a bitter laugh. "Define 'okay.'"
Hiro reached the railing and leaned against it, looking out at the city rather than at her. His profile was sharp in the afternoon light—strong jaw, straight nose, the kind of classically handsome face that probably made girls like Ayaka trip over themselves for his attention.
"First days are hard," he said quietly.
"That's an understatement." Luna's laugh was wet with suppressed tears. "I've been whispered about, avoided, insulted, threatened, and isolated, all before 4 PM. I'd say that's a pretty shit first day."
Hiro winced at her language but didn't comment on it. Instead, he just stood there, solid and present and real, and somehow his silence was more comforting than any platitudes would have been.
"Why are you so kind to me?" Luna asked, her voice cracking. "Really?"
The question hung in the air between them. Hiro was quiet for so long that Luna thought he might not answer, that he'd deflect again with that gentle smile and change the subject. But then he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper:
"Because I know what it's like."
Luna turned to look at him fully. "What what's like?"
"Not belonging." Hiro's smile was sad, achingly so, the kind of sad that spoke of deep wounds poorly healed. "Being different in a way that matters to everyone else but shouldn't."
Luna's breath caught. She stared at this boy—this human boy with his human features and human privilege and human acceptance—and tried to understand what he could possibly mean. "But you're human. You belong everywhere."
Hiro's laugh was soft and bitter. "Do I?"
Before Luna could ask what he meant, before she could press for details on that cryptic statement, Hiro shifted topics with the smooth practice of someone used to deflecting personal questions.
"You did well today," he said, his voice returning to that gentle tone. "Better than you think."
"I cried in a hallway before school even started."
"But you didn't run away." Hiro looked at her then, really looked at her, his grey eyes intense. "You stayed. You went to class. You endured. That takes courage, Luna."
Her name on his lips sent a shiver through her that had nothing to do with fear. Her tail—which had been tucked miserably between her legs—started to wag slightly. She noticed and tried to still it, embarrassed.
"Sorry!" She grabbed her tail, holding it to stop the motion. "I can't control it when I'm... happy."
Hiro laughed—a genuine, warm sound that seemed to surprise him as much as it did her. "Don't apologize. It's..." He paused, searching for words. "It's nice. Honest. Most people hide what they're really feeling."
Luna felt her face heat beneath her fur. "I wish I could hide it sometimes. It's embarrassing, having your emotions literally displayed for everyone to see."
"I think it's brave," Hiro said softly. "Being that honest about how you feel. Most of us spend so much energy hiding, pretending, wearing masks..." He trailed off, his expression distant. "It's exhausting."
They stood there in companionable silence as the sun began its descent toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. The city below them hummed with evening activity—cars honking, trains rumbling, the distant sound of construction that was eternally resh.
The morning light filtered through Hiro's bedroom window, catching dust motes in its golden beams. He stood before the mirror, methodically wrapping fresh bandages around his knuckles. Behind him, the wall bore new scars—three deep dents that joined the constellation of damage he'd inflicted over the past months.
His reflection stared back at him, perfectly human. Grey eyes, pale skin, dark hair falling across his forehead. Normal. Safe. Controlled.
"Stay calm," he whispered to himself, practicing the soft smile that had become his armor. "Stay in control."
For a brief moment, his eyes flashed gold.
Hiro froze, heart hammering against his ribs. He blinked hard, forcing his breathing to steady. When he opened his eyes again, they were grey once more.
"Not today," he breathed. "Please... not today."
But even as he spoke, he could feel it beneath his skin—that constant, churning presence. The beast. The wolf. The thing he'd spent his entire life learning to cage.
His grandfather's voice echoed in his memory: "Control isn't about suppression, Hiro. It's about balance. If you fight yourself too hard, you'll break."
Hiro grabbed his school bag and left before he could stare at the family photo on his desk. Before he could see his grandfather's knowing eyes.
Luna walked through the school hallway with her head higher than yesterday. The stares still came—sharp, judgmental, curious. The whispers still followed her like shadows. But something had shifted inside her, some small seed of courage that Hiro had planted.
She scanned the corridor, searching. Where was he?
Then she spotted him, leaning against the wall near the science lab, absorbed in a thick paperback. Her tail began to wag before she could stop it, and she cursed the involuntary betrayal of her feelings.
"Good morning," she said, trying to sound casual as she approached.
Hiro looked up, and that smile appeared—the one that made her chest feel warm. "Morning. Sleep well?"
"Better than I expected." Luna tilted her head, studying him. There were faint shadows under his eyes. "You?"
"Fine." The lie came smoothly, practiced.
Luna noticed his hands were shoved deep in his pockets, but she didn't press. They walked together toward their first class, and for a few precious moments, the world felt almost normal.
By lunch, Luna had claimed her spot beside Hiro on the rooftop. It was becoming their place—a small island of peace above the cafeteria's chaos. She unwrapped her sandwich while Hiro picked at an apple, both of them content in comfortable silence.
"Thank you," Luna said suddenly. "For yesterday. And today. For... everything."
"You don't have to keep thanking me."
"I want to." She gazed out at the city skyline. "No one else would—"
"Their loss," Hiro interrupted, his voice carrying an unexpected edge.
Luna felt heat rise to her cheeks beneath her fur. She busied herself with her food, acutely aware of how close they were sitting. Below, shouts and laughter echoed from the gymnasium—some kind of basketball game.
"Do you play sports?" she asked.
Hiro shook his head slowly. "I avoid competitive situations."
There was weight in those words, something heavy and unspoken. Luna frowned. "Why?"
His smile didn't reach his eyes. "I don't like getting too worked up."
Before Luna could question further, the bell rang. They gathered their things in silence, but Luna couldn't shake the feeling that Hiro was always holding something back, keeping some essential part of himself locked away.
P.E. class was Luna's least favorite period.
She sat on the bleachers while her classmates played basketball, their laughter and shouts filling the gymnasium. No one had asked her to join. No one would pass her the ball. She'd learned that lesson on the first day.
Her ears drooped as she watched, feeling the familiar ache of isolation. A basketball rolled toward her feet, and she bent to pick it up, intending to toss it back.
"DON'T TOUCH THAT WITH YOUR FILTHY PAWS!"
Luna dropped it as if burned. Student A—a tall boy with a cruel smirk—pointed at her accusingly.
"Great," Student B laughed. "Now it's contaminated."
The group dissolved into laughter. Luna's ears flattened completely against her skull, and she wrapped her tail around herself protectively. She wanted to disappear, to melt into the bleachers and cease to exist.
Then she heard footsteps.
Hiro walked into the gym, his P.E. class wasn't until next period, but he was early. His grey eyes swept the scene and found Luna immediately. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
He crossed the gymnasium in long strides and sat beside her without a word.
"Ignore them," he said softly.
"I'm trying." Luna's voice came out smaller than she intended. "But it's hard when—"
"Hey!" A voice cut through the gym. Student C, another boy from the basketball game, was grinning wickedly. "Let's see if the BEAST can catch!"
Luna barely had time to register the words before he hurled a basketball directly at her head.
Time seemed to fracture.
Luna's eyes widened. The ball hurtled toward her, hard and fast. Then—
Hiro moved.
One moment he was sitting beside her. The next, he'd pulled her against his chest with one arm while his other hand shot up and caught the basketball mid-flight. One-handed. The slap of leather against his palm echoed through the suddenly silent gym like a gunshot.
Luna found herself pressed against him, heart racing, surrounded by his warmth. She could feel his heartbeat through his shirt—rapid, pounding like a war drum. His arm around her was solid, protective, trembling with barely controlled tension.
Hiro stared at the students who'd thrown it. His eyes had gone cold, arctic. Dangerous in a way Luna had never seen before.
For just a flicker—so brief she almost convinced herself she'd imagined it—his eyes glowed gold.
"Apologize." His voice was quiet, deadly.
Student C stuttered, suddenly pale. "I-it was just a joke—"
"Apologize. Now."
The temperature in the gym seemed to drop ten degrees. Every student had frozen, sensing something primal and terrifying in Hiro's tone. This wasn't anger. It was something far more dangerous.
"S-sorry! I'm sorry!"
Hiro's hand tightened around the basketball. Luna heard it—the slow hiss of air escaping as his fingers crushed the ball, deflating it completely in his grip.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Hiro stared at his own hand as if it had betrayed him. Then Luna felt it—his entire body beginning to shake.
"I..." His voice came out strained, wrong. "I have to go."
He released her abruptly, dropped the destroyed basketball, and ran from the gym.
"Hiro?!" Luna called after him, but he was already gone.
Hiro slammed through the bathroom door with enough force to make it bounce against the wall. He checked each stall frantically—empty, thank god, empty—before stumbling into the last one and locking himself inside.
His breathing came in ragged gasps.
"No," he panted, gripping his head. "No no no..."
His hands were changing. Black fur sprouted across his knuckles. His nails lengthened into claws. His bones were shifting, growing, restructuring themselves.
"Stay calm. Stay calm. STAY CALM!"
He punched the stall wall. The metal crumpled under his fist with a sound like thunder.
His ears were emerging—black wolf ears with distinctive orange streaks. His teeth sharpened into fangs. He bit down on his hand to keep from screaming, tasting copper.
The transformation spread like wildfire. Fur erupted across his arms, his chest, his back. His frame expanded, muscles bulging and reforming. Orange lightning-like streaks carved themselves across the black fur—his grandfather's markings, the sign of their bloodline's strength.
In the cramped confines of the bathroom stall, Hiro's wolf form emerged fully.
He was massive—nearly seven feet tall even hunched over. His golden eyes glowed in the fluorescent light, feral and wild. Sharp fangs jutted from his muzzle. Powerful claws scraped against the tile floor.
He looked nothing like Luna's soft, domestic wolf features. He was something else entirely. Something dangerous. Predatory. Overwhelming.
But also beautiful in a terrible, awe-inspiring way.
"Control," he growled, his voice distorted and deep. "I need... control..."
He forced himself to breathe, to think through the animal instincts screaming in his skull. His grandfather's lessons. The meditation techniques. The visualization exercises he'd practiced since childhood.
Minutes crawled by. Slowly—agonizingly slowly—he pushed the transformation back. Fur receded into skin. Claws retracted. Bones shifted and compressed. The beast retreated into its cage, snarling and resistant.
When it was finally over, Hiro collapsed against the wall, human again, drenched in sweat and trembling with exhaustion.
"Too close," he gasped. "That was too close..."
He stumbled to the sink and turned the water on cold, splashing his face repeatedly. When he finally looked up at the mirror, he froze.
For a moment—just one terrible moment—he saw his wolf reflection staring back. Black fur. Orange lightning streaks. Glowing golden eyes. Fangs.
A monster.
He blinked, and the image vanished. Human again.
"I can't keep doing this," he whispered to his reflection. "I can't keep hiding."
His human face stared back, offering no answers.
"But if they see..." He gripped the sink until his knuckles turned white. "If she sees... they'll fear me. Just like they fear her."
He forced his smile back into place. It looked wrong. Hollow. A mask over a mask over a mask.
How much longer could he keep this up?
After school, Luna searched the grounds for Hiro. She'd been worried all afternoon—he'd disappeared after the gym incident and hadn't returned to classes. She checked the rooftop, the library, the courtyard.
Finally, she found herself near the fountain, still looking. That's when she noticed something floating in the water.
Her book. The novel she'd been reading at lunch.
"What? How did that—?"
She bent down to fish it out, confused. Behind her, she heard footsteps and laughter.
Luna looked up.
On the second-floor balcony, Ayaka stood with her usual group of followers. She held a large bucket of water, tilted at an angle, aimed directly at Luna.
"Oh, look," Ayaka said with mock sweetness. "The mutt dropped something."
Luna's eyes widened in realization.
"Let me help you cool off."
Ayaka tipped the bucket.
Water fell in a cascading sheet. Luna braced herself—
Suddenly, Hiro appeared from nowhere.
He covered her completely with his body, taking the full force of the water. It drenched him instantly—his uniform, his hair, everything. But he didn't flinch. Didn't move.
Luna found herself protected beneath him, completely dry.
She looked up in shock. Water dripped from his hair, his clothes clinging to his frame. But his expression was what caught her attention—cold fury, barely contained. His eyes locked onto Ayaka, and for a heartbeat, Luna could have sworn they glowed.
"Leave." One word. A command, not a request.
Ayaka actually stepped back, fear flickering across her face. Whatever she saw in Hiro's expression frightened her. She and her friends fled without another word.
Hiro slowly stepped away, giving Luna space. She stared at him—soaked through, water pooling around his feet—and yet he was smiling that gentle smile again.
"You're soaking wet!" Luna exclaimed.
"I'll dry."
"But why did you—?"
"You shouldn't have to deal with that alone."
Luna's chest tightened. Her tail wagged despite the situation. "You keep saving me."
"And I'll keep doing it."
The words hung between them, weighted with unspoken meaning. Then Luna noticed his hands—the bandages visible now that his sleeves were wet and transparent, dark stains seeping through.
"Your hands... they're hurt."
Hiro quickly hid them behind his back. "It's nothing."
"It doesn't look like nothing."
Luna reached for his hand. He pulled away sharply.
"Luna. It's fine."
There was a wall between them suddenly, thick and impenetrable. Luna's ears drooped.
"Why won't you let me help you?" The words came out more desperate than she'd intended. "You help me all the time, but you won't let me—"
"Because I don't need help."
The sharpness of his tone made her flinch. Hiro immediately looked stricken.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"
"No, you're right." Luna stepped back, wrapping her tail around herself. "I shouldn't pry."
She turned to leave.
"Luna, wait—"
But she was already running, vision blurring.
Hiro watched her go, his fist clenched so tight his nails bit into his palms.
"Idiot," he whispered to himself. "You idiot."
That evening, Luna sat in her room, hugging her tail for comfort. A knock sounded, and her mother entered, concern etched on her face.
"Luna? You okay?"
Luna looked up at her mother—another wolf hybrid, gentle and wise. "Mom... how do you help someone who won't let you help them?"
Her mother sat beside her, stroking her daughter's fur soothingly. "Some people carry wounds they can't show. All you can do is be there. Be patient."
"But what if he pushes me away?"
"Then you respect his space. But you also let him know you'll be there when he's ready."
Luna considered this, then pulled out her phone. She typed carefully:
"I'm sorry for pushing. I just want you to know... you don't have to be strong all the time. At least not around me. Goodnight, Hiro."
She hit send before she could second-guess herself.
Meanwhile, Hiro stood in his room, staring at the dented wall. His fist was raised, knuckles white, body coiled with tension.
But he stopped.
Slowly, he lowered his hand.
"She doesn't deserve this," he said to the empty room. "Doesn't deserve me."
His phone buzzed. He read Luna's message, and something in his chest cracked open—something he'd kept locked away for so long he'd forgotten what it felt like.
"You don't understand," he whispered. "If you saw what I really am..."
But he typed back:
"Goodnight, Luna. And... thank you."
He looked at the family photo on his desk. His wolf grandfather smiled at him from the frame, strong and proud.
"What would you do, Grandpa?"
The photo offered no answers. But somehow, Hiro felt a little less alone.
The next morning, Luna arrived at the rooftop early. Hiro was already there, waiting.
"Luna."
"Hiro."
Awkward silence stretched between them. Then, simultaneously:
"I'm sorry—"
They stopped. Laughed nervously.
"You first," Hiro said.
"I'm sorry for pushing. You don't have to tell me everything."
"And I'm sorry for snapping at you. You were just trying to help." Hiro looked away, jaw working. "The truth is... I have things I'm not ready to share yet. But it's not because I don't trust you."
"Then why?"
"Because I'm afraid." The admission came out quiet, vulnerable. "Of what you'll think. Of... losing you."
Luna's eyes widened. "Lose me? Hiro, you're the only friend I have here."
She stepped closer, bridging the gap between them. "Whatever you're hiding... whenever you're ready... I'll listen. And I won't judge."
Hiro really looked at her then—her golden eyes, earnest and kind. Her gentle expression. Her tail wagging slightly with hope.
Something in his carefully constructed defenses crumbled.
"You're too kind for this world, Luna."
She smiled. "And you're too lonely for your own good, Hiro."
They stood there in the morning sunlight, closer than before. Not touching, but the space between them felt charged, electric.
They walked to class together, and this time, Hiro didn't walk near her—he walked beside her. Their shoulders almost touched. Students still stared, still whispered, but somehow it mattered less.
"Luna?"
"Mm?"
"One day... I'll tell you everything."
Luna's heart skipped. "I'll wait."
Hiro smiled, and for the first time since they'd met, it reached his eyes.
"Thank you."
Luna's tail wagged happily.
Neither of them noticed Ayaka watching from across the hall, her eyes burning with something dark and jealous. Neither of them saw her pull out her phone and dial a number, whispering urgent words about the strange boy who protected the wolf girl.
Neither of them knew that their fragile peace was about to shatter.
But for now, in that moment, they had each other.
And that was enough for them.