THE LABORATORY
The transformation chamber hissed, releasing plumes of sterile-smelling vapor into the cold air. Inside the glass cylinder, a figure stirred—a shadow against the pale green fluid. With a final, wet gasp, the man stepped out, dripping onto the polished floor.
He stood there for a moment, chest heaving, his breath fogging in the chilled room. Then, he walked—slowly, deliberately—toward the full-length mirror mounted on the far wall.
His reflection was not human.
He was a wolf, but all wrong. Seven feet of corded muscle beneath a pelt of midnight black, slashed through with jagged, violent streaks of crimson, like fresh wounds. His eyes burned a solid, hateful red, devoid of the warmth or flickering light of a natural beast's gaze. His claws were not mere nails; they were obsidian shards, curved and cruel. This was not a transformation born of lineage or moonlight. This was something grafted, forced, and poisoned with intent.
A low, distorted growl rumbled in his chest. Finally.
On a steel table beside him, under the stark laboratory lights, sat two vials. One label read: HIRO MIZUKI - BLOOD SAMPLE (ACQUIRED). The other: HYBRID SERUM - COMPLETE. Next to them lay an empty vial labeled TAKUMI REN - CONTROL SUBJECT.
Director Takumi Ren—once the head of the Government's Beast Control Division, a man who had spent his life seeking to cage what he feared—flexed his new, clawed hand. Power, raw and intoxicating, surged through his veins. It was Hiro's power, stolen and twisted, fused with his own human will. He felt no connection to the earth, no whisper of ancestral spirit. Only cold, perfect control and a hunger for vengeance.
He picked up Hiro's vial, holding it to the light. "Your essence," he muttered, his voice a gravelly parody of speech. "The wild, uncontrollable force of a beast… now the core of a superior being. The ultimate weapon."
He let the vial clatter back onto the table, his crimson eyes locking onto his reflection. "Today, the experiment ends. Today, I collect my final data point." His lips pulled back, revealing elongated fangs in a smile that was all menace. "Today, you will kneel, Hiro Mizuki."
Seika Academy's rooftop was an island of quiet in the afternoon sun. The familiar group was gathered, but the usual easy laughter was muted, smothered by the looming end of an era.
Takeshi cracked open a soda, the sound overly loud in the silence. "So. Tomorrow's the day, huh? New class assignments."
A collective gloom settled over them. Kaede's normally perky fox ears lay flat against her hair. "I don't want to get split up," she whispered, poking at her beautifully arranged bento.
Luna's tail was wrapped tightly around her waist, a self-comforting coil. "Hiro just got everyone to stop… to stop bothering me," she said, her voice small. "What if he's not in my class anymore? What if it starts all over?" The fear in her amber eyes was palpable.
Hiro reached across the space between them, not with grand romance, but with simple, solid presence. His fingers brushed the back of her hand. "Hey," he said, his tone low and steady. "Look at me." She did. "No matter what list they post tomorrow, no matter what room I'm in, I am here. For you. That doesn't change."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
Lolo watched from her spot, a bittersweet warmth in her chest. She saw the way Luna leaned into Hiro's quiet assurance, the way his presence alone could calm the storm. She wanted that, yes, but more than that, she wanted this—their little pack—to stay whole. "We'll figure it out," Lolo said, her voice firm, leader-like. "We always do. Together."
Yuki, ever the pragmatic one, nodded vigorously. "We have lunch! And after school! The rooftop isn't going anywhere!"
Takeshi raised his soda can, forcing a grin. "To the rooftop alliance! No stupid class list is gonna break us!"
"Together!" they chorused, a pact made against the inevitable. But their smiles were fragile things, and their eyes kept drifting to the school building below, where their future was being pinned to a bulletin board.
The next morning, chaos reigned in the front hall. A sea of uniforms pressed against the bulletin boards, a cacophony of cheers, groans, and frantic searching.
"I'm in B! Who's with me?"
"Yes!Same class as Sae!"
"Oh no,I have Mr. Ogawa for homeroom…"
The group pushed through, a determined unit. Hiro led, gently making space for Luna behind him. They found the list for third-years.
CLASS 3-A: Mizuki, Hiro. Shirohane, Luna. Takamura, Lolo. Kujou, Ayaka. Momiji, Kaede.
CLASS 3-B:Ishida, Takeshi. Fuyuki, Yuki.
For a second, there was only the noise of the crowd around them. Takeshi's face, usually so animated, went blank. "Oh," he said, the single syllable heavy with disappointment.
"Takeshi…" Kaede immediately threw her arms around him in a fierce, fox-like hug.
"It's okay!"Yuki declared, punching his arm lightly. "We get to conquer 3-B together! Think of it as a new frontier, Captain!"
He managed a wobbly smile for her. "Yeah. Yeah, okay. Dynamic Duo, Part Two."
Hiro clapped a hand on his best friend's shoulder. "Rooftop. Lunch. Every day. Nothing changes where it counts."
But something had changed. The walk to Class 3-A felt different. They were five now, not seven. Ayaka Kujou, the panther beastfolk heiress, was already in her seat, her golden eyes tracking them with unreadable intensity as they entered. She sat alone, an elegant, isolated peninsula in the classroom sea.
Luna claimed the desk next to Hiro's. Lolo took the one directly in front, turning to give him a small, private smile. Kaede sat a row over, within easy whispering distance. It was a strategic placement, a consolidation of their pack within the new territory.
Their new homeroom teacher droned on about the semester's expectations. Hiro's gaze, however, kept drifting to the window, his enhanced senses subtly stretched, a faint, persistent unease gnawing at him. It was the same feeling he'd had before the attack in the woods, before Io had appeared—a primal itch between his shoulder blades.
As the sunset bled orange and purple across the sky, a car unlike any seen in their quiet neighborhood glided to a stop before Seika Academy's main gate. It was a sleek, black sedan, all polished menace.
The driver's door opened, and a man in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit stepped out. Director Takumi Ren surveyed the emptying school grounds with the detached interest of a geologist examining a promising rock formation. His hair was steel-gray, his face sharp and authoritative. Only if one looked very closely—into eyes that held no warmth—could they see the faintest, unnatural red glint deep within his pupils.
He had spent a lifetime in clean, well-lit offices, orchestrating the control of beasts from a distance. Now, he was the beast. And he had come to collect.
A well-meaning security guard approached. "Sir, visiting hours are—"
Takumi's hand shot out,not with a beast's wild slash, but with a cold, precise motion. He didn't grab the guard's uniform, but his wrist. Bones creaked under the inhuman pressure. The guard cried out, face paling.
"You are in my way,"Takumi stated, his voice flat. He released the man, who stumbled back, clutching his wrist. No further protest was offered.
Takumi walked through the gates, his polished shoes clicking on the pavement. He moved with purpose, following the lingering, unique scent he had studied in a hundred lab reports—the scent of oak leaves and autumn sunlight, mixed with wild, powerful musk.
Hiro Mizuki.
True to their word, all seven of them were on the rooftop for lunch. The autumn sun was warm, and for a glorious hour, the class split was forgotten. Sandwiches and bento boxes were shared, jokes were told, and Takeshi launched into an elaborate story about his disastrous morning in 3-B that had even Ayaka hiding a smirk behind her hand.
"We should do something this weekend!" Lolo proclaimed, stretching her arms. "All of us. To celebrate still being us."
"Movie marathon at my place!"Kaede suggested, ears twitching.
"Karaoke,"Yuki and Takeshi said in immediate, deadly unison, then grinned at each other.
Hiro laughed, the sound easy and free. This was what he fought for. This peace. This noise.
Then, the wind shifted.
His head snapped up, his laugh dying in his throat. His gold eyes narrowed, scanning the empty skyline. His ears, hidden under his human hair, pivoted forward.
"Hiro?"Luna's voice was instantly tinged with worry.
"What's wrong?"Lolo asked, posture straightening.
He stood up slowly, his movements now coiled with tension. "We're not alone." The scent was wrong—chemical, sterile, like a hospital, but underneath it was rage, jealousy, and the dark, coppery tang of his own blood, perverted.
"Who is it?"Takeshi asked, stepping forward, his fists unconsciously clenching.
The rooftop access door creaked open.
" ME."
The voice was calm, educated, and utterly chilling. Everyone turned.
Director Takumi Ren stood in the doorway, backlit by the stairwell light. He looked like a businessman who had taken a wrong turn. But his presence was a physical weight, pushing down on the cheerful atmosphere, suffocating it.
Hiro shifted instantly, placing himself between the stranger and his friends. "Who are you?"
"After all we've been through?"Takumi said, taking a step forward. The setting sun caught his eyes, and the red glint within them deepened. "The chase through the city? The incident at the government facility? The girl with the daggers? The wolf and panther mercenaries?" He tilted his head. "I'm hurt, Hiro. I've invested so much in you."
Lolo's breath hitched. "That's… Director Takumi Ren. From the Beast Control Division."
"A-plus for the Takamura heir,"Takumi said, a smile touching his lips that never reached his eyes. "Yes. Io, Scar, Blade, General Kyouro… all my pieces on the board. And you," he focused on Hiro, "have been my most fascinating subject."
Hiro's blood ran cold. The puppet master. The source of all the shadows that had haunted them. "You."
"And now,"Takumi continued, unbuttoning his suit jacket with deliberate slowness, "the study is complete. The thesis is written. All that remains is the final demonstration."
He didn't transform with a roar of pain or a burst of wild energy. It was a silent, terrifying unfolding. His body expanded, the expensive suit shredding like tissue paper. Black fur erupted, streaked with violent, luminous crimson. His face elongated into a wolven muzzle, but it was sharper, crueler than Hiro's. His claws were serrated blades. And his eyes… they were pools of solid, glowing red hate.
This was not a beast. It was a weapon wearing a beast's skin.
"Your potential, harvested. My will, perfected. I am what your kind fears most: a beast with a human's ruthless mind takumi said clearly mocking Hiro kindness"
The aura of malevolent power rolling off him was stifling. Kaede whimpered, her tail bristling. Luna froze, her childhood terror of monsters made real.
"Everyone," Hiro said, his voice a low, commanding growl that seemed to vibrate the concrete under their feet. "Get out of here. Now."
"No!"Luna cried, finding her voice. "We won't leave you!"
"Luna,please!" Hiro barked, not taking his eyes off Takumi. "This is different! Run!"
Kaede, acting on pure instinct, grabbed Luna's hand and Lolo's arm. "Come on!" Yuki and Takeshi, though terrified, fell into a protective stance, herding the others toward the opposite fire escape.
In seconds, only the two wolves remained on the vast rooftop, facing each other across the wind-swept expanse.
The Hybrid and the Original.
The Contrived and the Born.
Hatred versus Heart.
HIRO:"Why? Just for power?"
TAKUMI:"For order. Your existence is chaos. Mine will be control. Starting with you—the symbol of everything wild that must be tamed."
Hiro didn't waste another word. He let his own transformation wash over him—a fluid, natural change. His black fur, streaked with vibrant, living orange, rippled in the wind. His eyes shone with fierce, protective gold. He stood as he always had: not as a perfect weapon, but as a defender.
Takumi's red eyes narrowed. "No more games."
He moved. There was no thunderous charge, only a blur of black and crimson. He was faster than Scar, more precise than Blade. Hiro barely had time to raise his arms before Takumi was on him, not with a wild swipe, but with a calculated, surgical strike aimed to disable—a clawed hand shooting straight for Hiro's shoulder joint.
Hiro twisted, the claws grazing his fur and drawing a thin line of fire across his skin. He countered with a heavy swing, but Takumi had already disengaged, circling with unnerving calm.
"You fight on instinct," Takumi mused, his distorted voice analytical. "Predictable."
"And you fight like a machine,"Hiro shot back, breathing hard. "Soulless."
Takumi lunged again, a feint low followed by a vicious uppercut. Hiro took the feint, the real blow catching him under the jaw. He staggered back, stars exploding in his vision. Before he could recover, Takumi was there, a clawed foot slamming down toward his chest. Hiro rolled, the concrete where he'd lain cracking under the impact.
This wasn't a brawl. It was a dissection. Takumi was testing him, probing his defenses, exploiting every opening with cold, brutal efficiency. Hiro's style—powerful, passionate, protective—was being systematically taken apart by something colder and sharper.
Hiro pushed himself up, tasting blood in his mouth. He saw his friends' terrified faces peering from the stairwell door, unable to fully leave him. He saw Luna's tears.
No. This wasn't just about winning a fight. This was about proving that Takumi was wrong. That the wild, messy, emotional power of a true heart was stronger than any stolen, calculated force.
He let out a deep, rumbling growl, not of pain, but of defiance. The orange streaks in his fur seemed to burn brighter.
"Instinct isn't a weakness," Hiro spat, gold eyes locking onto red. "It's why I fight. For them. That's something you'll never understand."
He didn't wait for the next calculated attack. He charged, not with blind rage, but with the full, focused weight of everything he was protecting behind him.
Takumi's red eyes widened, just for a fraction of a second, as the golden-eyed wolf closed the distance. The perfect, sterile equation of the fight had just been shattered by a variable he hadn't accounted for: love.
Their clash echoed over the rooftops of Tokyo, a titanic collision of two different worlds, with the souls of seven friends hanging in the balance.
TO BE CONTINUED