The morning sun filtered through Hiro's curtains with an almost apologetic gentleness, as if it knew this was a Saturday and had no business being so bright so early. The digital clock on his nightstand blinked 9:00 AM in red numbers—an hour that would have been criminally early on any other weekend, but today felt just right.
Hiro stretched beneath his comforter, feeling the satisfying pop of his shoulders as he reached toward the ceiling. No alarm. No frantic scrambling to get ready for school. No worried thoughts about upcoming tests or social dynamics. Just... nothing. Beautiful, perfect nothing.
He grabbed his laptop from where it had spent the night charging on his desk, propped it up on a fortress of pillows, and settled in for what he'd been planning all week: a complete, uninterrupted marathon of *Celestial Guardians*, the mecha anime everyone had been talking about for months.
His "weekend uniform" consisted of a faded t-shirt from a concert he'd attended two years ago and sweatpants that had seen better days. His hair stuck up at odd angles from sleep, but there was no one here to judge him. This was freedom.
The opening credits rolled—dramatic orchestral music swelling as giant robots clashed against a starfield backdrop. Hiro grabbed a handful of chips from the bag on his nightstand, crunching contentedly as the first episode's plot began to unfold.
Twenty minutes in, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, his expression softening immediately when he saw Luna's name.
**Luna:** *What are you doing today? 🐺*
Hiro grinned, pausing the episode to type back.
**Hiro:** *Important business. Very serious. *
The response came almost immediately.
**Luna:** *Let me guess... anime? *
**Hiro:** *How did you know?? *
**Luna:** *Because I know you. Have fun!*
Hiro stared at that last message for a moment, that small blue heart making something warm bloom in his chest. Even through text, Luna had a way of making him feel seen. Understood. Accepted for exactly who he was—anime marathons and all.
He pressed play again, losing himself in the story.
Across town, Luna's apartment carried the quiet sounds of a peaceful Saturday morning. The kitchen smelled of green tea and the faint sweetness of the flowers her mother kept on the windowsill. Sunlight painted warm rectangles across the living room floor, where Luna sat cross-legged with her parents, working on a jigsaw puzzle that had been sitting half-finished on their coffee table for two weeks.
Luna's mother, Yuki—whom Luna had been named after, much to her rabbit friend's eternal amusement—had the sort of face that always looked like it was about to smile. Her wolf ears, more gray than Luna's dark ones, twitched slightly as she concentrated on finding the right piece.
"Luna, hand me that corner piece?" her mother asked, pointing to a section of blue sky that Luna had been organizing.
Luna searched through the scattered pieces, her tail swaying gently as she focused. "This one?"
"Perfect!"
Her father, Taro, worked on the border with quiet determination. He was a man of few words, but Luna had learned long ago that his silence wasn't coldness—it was simply his nature. When he did speak, every word carried weight.
The puzzle was coming together slowly: a landscape of mountains reflected in a crystal lake. They'd been working on it in small sessions whenever they all had time together, and Luna found the process oddly meditative. No pressure. No rush. Just the three of them, fitting pieces together.
"How's school, Luna?" her father asked without looking up from the edge pieces he was assembling.
"Good. Really good actually." Luna fitted a piece of mountain into place, feeling a small satisfaction as it clicked home.
Her mother glanced at her with that knowing look that mothers somehow perfected. "And how's Hiro?"
Luna's ears immediately flattened against her head, heat rising to her cheeks. "Mom!"
Her mother laughed, the sound bright and warm. "What? I'm just asking!"
Taro finally looked up, his expression serious but his eyes gentle. "That boy still treating you well?"
Luna's embarrassment faded, replaced by something softer. Her tail began to wag without her conscious permission. "Yes. He's... he's wonderful."
Her parents exchanged a glance—one of those silent conversations that people who'd been married for decades could have with just a look. Luna pretended not to notice, focusing intently on finding another puzzle piece.
They worked in comfortable silence for a while longer, the only sounds the soft click of pieces fitting together and the distant chirping of birds outside. This was what Luna had missed during those years of isolation, those years when going to school felt like walking through enemy territory. She'd missed this feeling of belonging, of being part of something as simple and profound as a family sitting together on a Saturday morning.
By noon, they'd made significant progress on the puzzle. Luna's mother stood, stretching. "I should start lunch. Luna, want to help?"
"Sure!"
They moved to the kitchen together, falling into an easy rhythm. Luna washed rice while her mother prepared miso soup, cutting tofu into precise cubes. Her father joined them, taking charge of grilling fish—his specialty.
The kitchen filled with delicious smells: the savory aroma of miso, the slight char of perfectly grilled mackerel, the sharp tang of pickled vegetables. Simple food, but made with care.
They ate at their small table, the afternoon light streaming through the window creating patterns on the worn wood. Luna's mother had arranged everything beautifully despite the simplicity of the meal—each dish in its proper place, garnished with care.
"Luna, could you help me with shopping later?" her mother asked between bites.
"Of course!"
Her father set down his chopsticks, looking at Luna with an expression she couldn't quite read. "You've been smiling more lately. I like seeing that."
Luna looked up, surprised. "I have?"
He nodded slowly. "You used to come home from school looking... defeated. Like you'd spent the whole day fighting a battle. But now..."
A gentle smile creased his weathered face. "Now you look happy."
Luna felt her eyes begin to water. She'd thought she'd hidden her struggles better than that, but of course her parents had noticed. They'd always noticed, had always worried, had always hurt alongside her even when she tried to pretend everything was fine.
"I am," she said softly, her voice thick with emotion. "For the first time in so long... I really am."
Her mother reached across the table, squeezing Luna's hand. No words were needed. The touch said everything: *We're proud of you. We're glad you're happy. We love you.*
Luna squeezed back, her tail wagging steadily now, and for a moment the simple apartment kitchen felt like the warmest place in the entire world.
Several neighborhoods over, Kaede sat on a park bench wondering if she'd made a terrible mistake.
"Kaede-nee! Push me on the swing!"
"No! Play tag with ME!"
"I want to climb the jungle gym!"
"I'm hungry!"
"He pushed me!"
Five children—ranging in age from five to eight—swarmed around her like a tornado of boundless energy and ear-splitting volume. Kaede's fox ears lay flat against her head, already overwhelmed by the sensory assault of their collective enthusiasm.
"One at a time!" she called out, trying to project authority and failing miserably. "I only have two hands!"
This was what she got for agreeing to babysit the neighborhood kids. The money was good—her mother had shown her the payment amount, and it was definitely worth the effort—but right now, watching these five bundles of chaos bounce around the playground like they'd been mainlining sugar, Kaede was beginning to question her life choices.
"Kaede-nee is a fox!" one of the younger ones—Rina, age five—announced with the sort of delighted wonder that only small children could muster. "Can you do fox things?"
"What kind of fox things?" Kaede asked warily.
"Like... jump really high! Or... or catch things with your teeth!"
"I'm not going to catch things with my teeth."
"Aww..."
The disappointment was palpable, but Kaede remained firm on that boundary. She had standards.
"How about we play on the swings instead?" she suggested, hoping to channel their energy into something that required less participation from her.
"YAY!"
The stampede toward the swing set was immediate and chaotic. Kaede followed at a more sedate pace, already feeling exhausted and it wasn't even noon yet.
For the next half hour, Kaede pushed Rina on the swings until her arms ached. Each push was met with demands for "Higher! Higher!" in a voice that could probably shatter glass. Meanwhile, the other kids took turns on the adjacent swings, occasionally trying to jump off mid-swing in ways that made Kaede's heart leap into her throat.
"Don't jump from that high!" she called out, catching one of them—Kenji, age seven—before he could attempt what would have definitely resulted in a scraped knee or worse. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"
"But it's fun!"
"It's dangerous! Use the slide if you want to feel like you're flying."
This, predictably, led to all of them abandoning the swings for the slide. Kaede took the opportunity to collapse on a nearby bench, panting slightly. How did parents do this every single day? How was this sustainable?
Her phone buzzed. She pulled it out to find the group chat active.
**Kaede:** *Anyone free? I'm EXHAUSTED *
**Yuki:** *Still at work for 2 more hours *
**Takeshi:** *At the park with my siblings. Send help.*
**Hiro:** *Busy saving the world. (Anime counts as saving the world)*
Kaede snorted, typing back quickly.
**Kaede:** *You NERD *
At least she wasn't alone in her suffering. Takeshi was somewhere dealing with sibling duty, and Yuki was stuck at work. Only Hiro had managed to secure a truly relaxing Saturday, the lucky bastard.
"Kaede-nee! Let's play tag!"
Kaede looked up to find all five children staring at her with those wide, expectant eyes that children wielded like weapons. She knew, with absolute certainty, that she was about to regret this.
"Fine. But just one game, okay?"
"Okay!"
The rules were simple: Kaede was "it" first, and she had to catch one of them to pass on the role. It should have been easy—she was bigger, older, and had the advantage of longer legs.
She had not accounted for the fact that children moved like caffeinated squirrels.
They scattered the moment she stood up, giggling and shrieking as they ran in five different directions. Kaede chased after Rina, the smallest and seemingly slowest, only to have the girl duck under a bench at the last second.
"Too slow!" Rina sing-songed.
Kaede pivoted toward Kenji, who was running toward the jungle gym. She got close—so close she could almost touch his shirt—when he suddenly changed direction, causing Kaede to stumble and nearly face-plant into the wood chips.
"How are you all so FAST?!" she gasped, hands on her knees as she caught her breath.
"You're too slow, Kaede-nee!" one of the older ones—Sota, age eight—called from his perch on top of the climbing structure.
This went on for what felt like an eternity but was probably only ten minutes. Kaede's fox instincts helped a little—her reflexes were sharper than a normal human's—but the kids knew the playground better and used that advantage mercilessly.
Finally, *finally*, she managed to corner one of them near the drinking fountain. She tagged him perhaps a bit more forcefully than necessary.
"You're it now!" she declared, then immediately collapsed face-first onto the grass.
The cool grass against her flushed face felt like heaven. Above her, she could hear the kids continuing their game, their energy apparently limitless. Kaede just lay there, wondering if this was what death felt like and deciding it wasn't so bad.
Her phone buzzed again. She lifted it just enough to see her mother had sent a photo of the payment—a decent amount of money that would definitely help with the new clothes she'd been eyeing.
"Right," Kaede muttered to herself. "That's why I'm doing this."
Money. The ultimate motivator.
An hour later, after what felt like every possible playground activity had been exhausted at least twice, Kaede gathered the children and led them to the ice cream vendor at the park's entrance. She bought five ice cream cones—various flavors ranging from vanilla to something that was probably supposed to be bubble gum—and one for herself because if she had to endure this, she deserved a reward.
They sat together on the grass, and blessed silence fell as the kids focused on their treats. Kaede savored her chocolate cone, feeling her energy slowly returning with each cold, sweet bite.
"Kaede-nee, you're the best!" Rina declared, her face already covered in strawberry ice cream.
Despite her exhaustion, despite the chaos, despite everything, Kaede felt herself smile. One of the younger ones—Haru, age six—scooted closer and leaned against her side in a sticky, ice-cream-covered hug.
*Okay,* Kaede thought, her expression softening as she automatically put an arm around the kid. *Maybe this isn't so bad.*
Maybe.
She'd still need a very long nap later.
At the Moonbeam Café, Yuki was discovering that her rabbit instincts made her surprisingly well-suited to café work.
The morning shift had started slow—a few early risers, mostly older folks who liked their coffee before the crowds. Yuki had taken their orders with a bright smile, her rabbit ears tied back with a ribbon to keep them out of her face while she worked. The café uniform suited her: a crisp white shirt, black apron with the café's logo (a smiling crescent moon), and a name tag that read "YUKI" in cheerful letters.
"Welcome to Moonbeam Café!" she called out as the door chimed, signaling another customer. "What can I get for you today?"
"One caramel latte, please!"
"Coming right up!"
Yuki moved behind the espresso machine with practiced efficiency. She'd been working here for three months now, and the routine had become second nature. Grind the beans—not too fine, not too coarse. Tamp the grounds—firm and even. Extract the espresso—watching the rich brown liquid flow into the cup. Steam the milk—listening for that perfect whisper of sound that meant the texture was just right.
She'd discovered, somewhat to her surprise, that she had a knack for latte art. Her steady hands—a rabbit trait, great for detailed work—allowed her to create delicate foam designs. Today she made a simple heart, watching it take shape on the caramel-colored surface.
"Here you go!" She handed the drink to the customer with a smile. "Enjoy!"
The morning continued at a manageable pace. Yuki took orders, made drinks, wiped down tables, restocked supplies. Her coworker, Akane—a human girl with bright purple hair—handled the register while Yuki focused on drinks. They'd developed a good rhythm together.
Then noon hit.
Yuki had learned that the Moonbeam Café had two speeds: peaceful and absolute chaos. Noon was definitely the latter.
The door chimed constantly as office workers on lunch break flooded in, along with students, families, and everyone else who had decided this was the perfect time for coffee. The line stretched to the door. The espresso machine hissed constantly. Orders piled up faster than they could be completed.
"Two cappuccinos, one americano, three lattes—one oat milk, one almond milk, one regular—and a hot chocolate!" Akane called out, her voice straining to be heard over the noise.
"Got it!" Yuki called back, her hands already moving.
This was where her rabbit nature really showed its value. Quick reflexes. Sharp attention to detail. The ability to keep multiple tasks organized in her head simultaneously. Yuki moved through the chaos with a speed that would have seemed frantic if it wasn't so efficient.
Grind, tamp, extract. Steam milk—switching to oat for one pitcher, almond for another. Pour, decorate with quick foam art (no time for elaborate designs now, just simple flourishes). Call out the order. Start the next one.
Her ears twitched constantly, picking up fragments of conversation, the hiss of steam, Akane's voice calling out new orders, the door chime signaling more customers. Another person might have been overwhelmed by the sensory input, but Yuki had learned to filter it, focusing on what mattered.
"Yuki, you're a lifesaver!" Akane called during a brief lull as she restocked cups. "I can't keep up!"
"Teamwork!" Yuki responded with a smile that was only slightly strained. "We've got this!"
They did, but only barely. The rush continued for nearly two hours straight. By the time it finally began to slow down around two-thirty, Yuki's feet were aching and her ears drooped with exhaustion.
Her manager, seeing her flagging, nodded toward the back room. "Take your break, Yuki. You've earned it."
Yuki didn't need to be told twice.
The break room was small and cramped, but right now it felt like an oasis. Yuki collapsed into one of the old chairs, kicking off her shoes and wiggling her toes with a groan of relief. Her feet throbbed. Her back ached. Her ears felt like they'd been processing sound for a year straight.
She made herself a cup of tea—green tea with honey, simple and soothing—and checked her phone while it steeped.
The group chat was active. She scrolled through the messages, a smile tugging at her lips despite her exhaustion.
**Hiro:** *Busy saving the world. (Anime counts as saving the world)*
**Kaede:** *You NERD *
**Takeshi:** *I have a new respect for parents. How do they do this EVERY DAY?? *
Yuki laughed quietly, typing out a response.
**Yuki:** *At least someone's relaxing today! *
She sipped her tea, feeling the warmth spread through her chest. Two more hours. Just two more hours and she could go home, soak her feet, and do absolutely nothing for the rest of the evening.
She could do this.
Probably.
Maybe.
Takeshi had always considered himself patient. As the oldest sibling, patience wasn't just a virtue—it was a survival skill.
But even his legendary patience was being tested today.
"Takeshi-nii! Push me on the swing!"
His little sister, Miku, tugged at his hand with both of hers, her six-year-old face lit up with excitement. Her energy was boundless, had been since she woke up at seven AM and immediately demanded he play with her.
"Takeshi-nii, can we feed the ducks after?" his little brother, Haruki, asked from his other side. At eight, Haruki was quieter than his sister, more bookish, but no less demanding of attention in his own way.
"Yes, yes," Takeshi said with his best patient-older-brother voice. "One thing at a time."
Their parents had left for a rare day out together—their wedding anniversary—leaving Takeshi in charge. He didn't mind, really. He loved his siblings. But loving them and having infinite energy to keep up with them were two very different things.
The park was crowded with other families enjoying the nice weather. Takeshi navigated them toward the playground, already mentally preparing himself for the marathon ahead.
Miku made a beeline for the swings. "Push me! Push me high!"
Takeshi took his position behind her swing, beginning the steady rhythm of pushing. "Hold on tight, okay?"
"Higher!"
"You're already pretty high."
"HIGHER!"
This was his life now. Takeshi pushed his sister on the swing for twenty minutes straight, his arms gradually transforming from muscle into jelly. Each push was met with delighted squeals and demands for more height. Meanwhile, Haruki sat on an adjacent swing, moving himself gently back and forth while reading a book he'd somehow managed to bring to the playground.
"How are you reading on a swing?" Takeshi asked, genuinely curious.Haruki looked up, adjusting his glasses. "I'm very talented."
Fair enough.
Eventually Miku tired of the swings—or rather, Takeshi's arms gave out—and she demanded they try the slide instead. This led to Takeshi standing at the bottom of the slide, catching her each time she came down, while she ran back up for another go.
"Again! Again!"
Haruki joined in, his book temporarily forgotten, and soon Takeshi was catching both of them in rotation. His back was going to hate him tomorrow.
After the slide came the sandbox, where Miku had grand plans to build the world's greatest sandcastle.
Takeshi helped, shaping towers and walls while Haruki created a moat with careful precision. They'd almost finished when Miku accidentally kicked it while reaching for more sand.
The castle collapsed into a sad pile of sand.
Miku's lip trembled. Takeshi quickly intervened. "It's okay! Let's build an even better one!"
Her tears evaporated like they'd never been there. "Okay!"
They built another castle.
This one lasted slightly longer before it also collapsed, this time due to structural instability rather than accidental destruction. They built a third. Castle-building, Takeshi learned, was apparently a process of trial and error.
By the time they finally moved on to the duck pond, Takeshi's knees creaked like he was eighty years old from all the crouching in the sandbox.
The duck pond was peaceful, at least. They sat on the edge, tossing bread crumbs to the ducks that paddled lazily in the water. Haruki had brought the bread from home in a plastic bag, having planned ahead with the sort of foresight Takeshi appreciated.
"That one's my favorite," Miku announced, pointing to a duck with particularly glossy feathers. "I'm going to name him Mr. Feathers."
"That's a good name," Takeshi agreed.
"Can I pet him?"
"No."
"But why?"
"Because he's a wild duck and he doesn't want to be petted."
Miku considered this seriously, then nodded. "Okay. But can I—"
"No, you can't chase them either."
She deflated slightly but accepted this with grace. Instead, she focused on throwing bread with increasing enthusiasm, trying to get it to land right in front of Mr. Feathers.
It was actually peaceful for a few minutes. The afternoon sun warm on their faces, the gentle sounds of the water and the ducks, his siblings content for once.
Then Miku's stomach growled audibly.
"I'm hungry," she announced.
"Me too," Haruki added.
Takeshi checked his phone. Three PM. Yeah, they'd definitely earned a snack.
They walked to the ice cream stand near the park entrance—a small cart run by an elderly man who'd been selling ice cream here for as long as Takeshi could remember. He bought three cones: strawberry for Miku, chocolate for Haruki, vanilla for himself.
They found a bench in the shade and sat together, eating their ice cream in companionable silence. Or rather, Takeshi ate in silence while his siblings created an impressive mess. Ice cream somehow ended up on Miku's nose.
Haruki had it on his chin. Both had it on their hands.
Takeshi pulled napkins from his pocket—another example of his excellent planning—and cleaned them up, thinking this must be what parenting felt like. Constant vigilance. Always prepared. Forever cleaning up messes.
His phone buzzed. He checked it one-handed while preventing Miku from dropping her cone.
The group chat was active. He scrolled through, seeing that everyone else was having their own challenging days. Well, except Hiro.
Takeshi: I have a new respect for parents. How do they do this EVERY DAY??
Hiro: Hang in there!
Kaede: Same boat. Kids are EXHAUSTING.
At least he wasn't alone in his suffering.
Miku finished her ice cream and immediately leaned against his side, sticky hands and all. "Takeshi-nii, you're the best big brother ever."
Something warm expanded in Takeshi's chest, pushing aside the exhaustion. He put his arm around her shoulders, not caring about the ice cream residue transferring to his shirt.
"Thanks, kiddo."
Haruki leaned against his other side, and for a moment they just sat there—three siblings on a bench, tired and sticky and content.
Yeah, Takeshi thought. He could do this older brother thing.
Even if his back would absolutely hate him tomorrow.
By seven PM, Hiro had accomplished exactly what he'd set out to do: absolutely nothing productive, and it had been glorious.
He'd finished the entire season of Celestial Guardians—all twenty-four episodes. He'd laughed. He'd gasped at plot twists. He'd shouted at the screen during the intense battle sequences. And yes, he'd definitely cried during episode twenty-three when the main character's best friend sacrificed himself to save the world.
"Why do they always kill the best characters?" he'd muttered through tears, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his t-shirt.
His snack supply was depleted. His laptop battery had died and been recharged twice. He'd gotten up only for bathroom breaks and to grab more food from the kitchen, each trip feeling like a marathon after so many hours of sitting.
But as the credits rolled on the final episode, Hiro felt satisfied in a way that only a perfect lazy day could provide. This was what weekends were for.
His phone buzzed with an incoming video call notification—the group chat was going live. Hiro accepted, his screen dividing to show his friends' faces.
Luna appeared first, sitting at her desk with her usual calm smile. Then Kaede, who looked like she'd been through a war and lost. Yuki joined, her rabbit ears drooping noticeably. Finally Takeshi, who had what appeared to be crayon marks on his shirt.
"You all look terrible," Hiro observed cheerfully.
"Says the guy who hasn't left his bed all day," Kaede shot back, though there was no real heat in it.
"I'll have you know I got up several times," Hiro defended. "I went to the bathroom. Got snacks. Very active day."
"Watching anime doesn't count as active," Takeshi said.
"It's mentally active."
Luna laughed, the sound making Hiro smile automatically. "How was everyone's day?"
"Exhausting," Kaede and Takeshi said in unison, then looked at each other through their screens with mutual understanding.
"I am never babysitting again," Kaede declared.
"Same. My siblings have infinite energy." Takeshi shook his head. "I don't understand how parents do this every single day."
"My feet are dead," Yuki added, lifting one foot into frame to wiggle her toes. "The lunch rush was insane. We must have served two hundred drinks."
"And what did you do, Hiro?" Kaede asked with exaggerated sweetness.
Hiro stretched, shameless. "Watched an entire anime series. Twenty-four episodes. Very productive."
"You NERD!" Kaede threw a pillow at her phone screen, which obviously did nothing but made everyone laugh.
"At least someone had a relaxing day," Luna said, her tail visible over her shoulder as it wagged gently.
"What about you, Luna?" Yuki asked. "What did you do today?"
Luna's expression softened. "Spent time with my parents. We worked on a puzzle, had lunch together, went shopping. It was... really nice, actually. Just a normal family day."
There was something in her voice—a contentment that made Hiro's chest warm. He knew what those normal days meant to her, after so long without them.
"We should do something together next weekend," Takeshi suggested. "As a group. Something that doesn't involve children or work or any responsibilities whatsoever."
"YES." Kaede sat up straight, suddenly animated despite her exhaustion.
"Something relaxing. Please. I need to remember what relaxation feels like."
"Movie day?" Hiro suggested.
"At your place?" Yuki asked. "Your house has that big TV."
"And your mom makes good snacks," Kaede added hopefully.
Hiro laughed. "Sure. Next Saturday? Everyone can come over, we'll watch movies, eat too much, and do absolutely nothing productive."
"Sounds perfect," Luna agreed.
"I'm in," Takeshi said.
"Me too!" Yuki's ears perked up slightly.
"Obviously I'm coming," Kaede said. "Someone has to make sure Hiro doesn't make us watch his weird anime."
"It's not weird, it's sophisticated—"
"It's weird."
They talked for another hour, the conversation drifting from topic to topic with the easy comfort of close friends. Hiro found himself just listening sometimes, watching his friends' faces on the screen, feeling grateful for this—for them. A year ago, he'd been alone. Isolated. Going through the motions of life without really living it.
Now he had this: friends who called him a nerd with affection, who made plans for next weekend, who knew what he was doing on a lazy Saturday and teased him about it.
Eventually, they said their goodnights. One by one, the screens went dark until only Luna's remained.
"Hey," she said softly once they were alone.
"Hey yourself."
"Did you really watch anime all day?"
"I really did. It was amazing." Hiro shifted to get more comfortable, his laptop balanced on his stomach. "What about you? Really just a normal day?"
Luna nodded, her expression peaceful. "Really just a normal day. But... Hiro, my dad said something today. He said I've been smiling more lately."
"You have been," Hiro said. "I've noticed too."
"It's because of you. Because of all of you." Her voice grew thick. "Because for the first time, I feel like I belong somewhere. Like I'm not just surviving, but actually living."
Hiro felt his throat tighten. "Luna..."
"I just wanted to say thank you. For being part of this. For... for everything."
They looked at each other through their screens, the distance between them feeling simultaneously vast and nonexistent.
"Thank you for letting me in," Hiro said quietly. "For trusting me."
Luna smiled, that beautiful smile that made her whole face light up. "Always."
They talked for a while longer—about nothing important, about everything important—until Luna started yawning.
"Get some sleep," Hiro said. "I'll text you tomorrow."
"Goodnight, Hiro."
"Goodnight, Luna."
The call ended. Hiro set his laptop aside, rolling onto his side as he looked out his window at the darkening sky. The day had been perfectly, wonderfully ordinary. No drama. No crisis. Just... life.
In her apartment across town, Luna brushed her fur with slow, methodical strokes—part of her nightly routine. As she worked, her eyes kept drifting to the bracelet on her wrist, the one Hiro had given her weeks ago.
It had become such a constant presence that she barely noticed it anymore, but tonight she really looked at it, remembering the day he'd given it to her.
"So you know you're not alone," he'd said.
She wasn't alone. Not anymore.
Luna finished brushing and climbed into bed, her tail curling around her as she settled in.
Through her window, she could see the moon—not quite full, but close. She thought about her day, about the puzzle with her parents, about the group call, about Hiro's message that morning.
Because I know you, he'd written.
And he did. They all did. For the first time in her life, Luna felt truly known, truly seen. Not as the monster girl, not as the wolf demi-human to be feared, but as Luna.
Just Luna.
She fell asleep smiling.Kaede sat on her bed, counting the money she'd earned from babysitting. Her body ached. Her ears were still slightly ringing from all the screaming. She had sand in places sand should definitely not be.
But the money was good. And, if she was being honest with herself, the day hadn't been completely terrible. The ice cream had been nice. The hugs had been cute. Those kids, exhausting as they were, had also been kind of sweet.
She'd probably do it again. Eventually. After a very long recovery period.
Kaede tucked the money into her wallet and flopped back on her bed, staring at her ceiling. Next weekend would be better.
Hanging out with friends, no responsibilities, no small children with infinite energy. Just movies and snacks and people her own age who understood the concept of "inside voice."
She couldn't wait.
Yuki soaked her feet in warm water infused with Epsom salt, sighing in relief as the tension began to ease.
Her small apartment was quiet except for the gentle sound of the water and the distant hum of traffic outside.
The café had been exhausting, but in a good way. She liked her job.
Liked the steady rhythm of it, the satisfaction of a well-made latte, the regular customers who knew her by name now. It was honest work, and it felt good to be contributing, to be independent.
Still, she was definitely ready for her day off tomorrow.
Yuki checked her phone one more time, rereading the group chat messages and smiling. They were a good group of friends. Different personalities, different struggles, but somehow they fit together. She was grateful to be part of it.
Tomorrow she'd sleep in, maybe do some studying, definitely not make any coffee for at least twenty-four hours. But next weekend would be fun. She was already looking forward to it.