Trigger Warning:
- gang members
- mugging
- beating someone
- catcalling
- crude sexual innuendos
- mention of drugs and alcohol
January was an awesome month.
New Year's took the brunt of the glory for just a single day, but the remaining thirty days had plenty to offer, too.
Snow, hot chocolate, skating, ice sculpting, and cold nights.
To Etsudo, winter nights were the best nights.
The way the moonlight glinted off the freshly fallen snow, making it sparkle like glitter. The quiet hush of nature, broken by the soft crunch of snow beneath one's feet. The crisp chill in the air that could make one feel alive in a landscape of barrenness. Not a fact commonly known to most, but the first full moon of the year was called the Wolf's Moon. Wolves tended to be more active in January, and therefore they howled during those nights. Being part dog, even Etsudo had an inclination to bark at the moon.
She had many reasons to love winter. But there was one reason more intimate than the rest.
Etsudo strolled along Tokyo's streets with no destination in mind. Just a walk to enjoy the weather. Snowflakes fell gently from the sky, seemingly floating in the air before landing silently on the concrete or settling on the bare tree branches. The weather app said the temperature was in minus Celsius, but Etsudo hardly felt a thing. Thanks to her seasonal thickened fur. It kept her insulated enough to wear a springtime jacket and jeans in the midwinter.
As she walked, memories resurfaced from her mind. The first encounter with Kamiko's boyfriend all those months ago. Etsudo was jealous. The kind of jealous where seeing someone happy makes one wish to experience that kind of joy, too. She was happy - genuinely happy - that her friend found someone who understood her true worth. At the same time, Etsudo wanted to know what it was like to be that respected. That cherished.
She imagined what it would be like to have a boyfriend who showered her with love and affection. Someone whom she could adore equally, as well. Her love language was touch, so she craved sweet caresses. To give and to receive.
The longer she reminisced, the more painful the envy became. So painful that it continued to build up until it overflowed. Then Etsudo could hold it in no longer. In the silence of the street, a loud cry shattered the peace. Some passersby who were minding their own business were taken aback by the shriek. One woman nearly dropped her groceries, while one man fiddled with his phone from slipping. Etsudo hardly noticed the scene she was making. Rather, she fell to the ground and rolled around in the snow. Dogs behaved this way when they were happy; here she was frolicking for the opposite reason. Like the average human teenager, her emotions and reactions were an absolute mess.
Etsudo cursed herself, her fate, and everything the world did not give her. An elderly couple going by tsked at her use of language, lamenting the degeneration of the future generation. Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes. One girl internally debated approaching and running away. Ultimately, the girl decided to not pry and walk past. As the world around Etsudo continued to move, she remained put in her state of misery.
And she remained that way, until her burst of emotional pain subsided.
"It's cool, it's cool. Everything's cool," she murmured to herself like a mantra. "You're stronger than this, Etsudo. You're a black belt karate martial artist prepping for the prefecture competition. How dare you succumb to your emotions!"
Etsudo rose to her feet, dusted off the clinging snow, and resumed her aimless walk once more. Slowly, she began to lose herself into the mystical beauty of winter once more when her ears suddenly twitched.
A muffled gasp.
For a moment, she believed she had imagined it. With no more people nearby and utter silence, save for the soft crunching beneath her boots, she figured her mind must have been conjuring sounds to keep her sanity. Until she heard it again.
A little louder this time. Almost like a cry.
Now, her sixth sense was beginning to tug at her mind, too. Someone was in pain, and Etsudo was stuck in a moral dilemma. Either she could walk away and keep to herself, or go investigate. Definitely, the first option was safer. She was all alone on an unknown street. But for the same reason, so was the victim. No one was around to help him or her besides Etsudo. She even debated a third option - calling the police - but feared it might be too late before they arrived. Perhaps out of bravery or recklessness, she opted for the second choice: find out herself.
The first thing she did was remove her socks and boots. Nobody knew she was here, and that was the only advantage she had in her arsenal. The shoes were making too much noise to keep her presence concealed, but the natural pads on the bottom of her feet would attenuate any sound. The cost to this was that she could only remain barefoot for about half an hour before the frostbite posed a threat. Whatever she planned to do, she had to do it within thirty minutes. Not very appealing numbers.
Etsudo's ears remained raised, trying to catch even the quietest of noises. Every so often, another choked weep or strangled scream would echo from somewhere, and Etsudo would change course. Ten minutes passed by like this until she reached an abandoned construction site.
Hiding behind one of the concrete buildings, she peered around the corner to see some goons ganging up on a guy. Even from this distance, it was obvious that the man had been battered. Purplish-black bruises marred his face; no doubt, there were more on the rest of his body. He was grappling with whom seemed like the boss of the goons for a wallet. His wallet. Etsudo realized that these criminals were mugging him.
Her choice was made. She left her hiding spot, determined to take the muggers by surprise. Unfortunately, one of them turned his head back to smoke away from his peers. His eyes quickly glanced over Etsudo, before returning to her and properly staring.
"Hey, boss!" he called out, coolly taking a whiff, apparently unbothered by the presence of a witness. "We've got a looker!"
One by one, the gang turned around to face her. So much for the element of surprise, Etsudo berated herself. The boss, who had bunched the victim's collar in his fist, tossed the man aside like a rag doll. The man hit his head against the concrete with a harsh thud and promptly lost consciousness. Dusting off his hands, he began to move toward Etsudo. The way he scanned her up and down … if the criminal was not disgusting enough already, then he certainly was now.
She contemplated backing away, but then decided not, ultimately. Like hell, she was going to give these living insults of manhood the satisfaction of seeing her fear. Etsudo stood her ground, planning her next moves.
"You're right," the boss said. Etsudo noticed that him and his lackeys were all dressed in hoodies, jeans, and sneakers. They seemed to be around her age, too, give or take a few years. These criminals were likely not part of a large mafia organization, Etsudo reasoned. Just some jerks from the area who thought manliness was all about being aggressive and tough. Brutes like them relied on punches and kicks - maybe switchblades and baseball bats - to assert dominance. The likelihood that they carried guns, especially in a country where possessing firearms was banned to the common public, was negligible. Not to mention, members of a syndicate would not resort to mugging random strangers for money. Even criminals like them had standards. So their only motive could be to bag some cash for booze, drugs, gambling, and girls. Perhaps even all of the above, given their wobbly movements, slurred speech, red-rimmed eyes, and stench of alcohol. They were heavily drunk or high or both.
The observations gave her a surge of confidence. She could tackle them. What were their crude physical attacks compared to her years of martial arts practice?
So when she raised her head slightly and met their jeers without a flinch, the boss whistled. Nodding at his henchmen, he catcalled, "Damn, she's a feisty one. I love a woman with spice. Makes things hotter. What do you say, dog mutant? Will you be my doggy? I promise, I'll treat you good."
Oh, this douchebag was getting what was coming to him. Patience, Etsudo reminded herself, even though every nerve in her body was firing signals to pummel his butt to the ground. Cocking her head to the side, she replied, "And if I say no?"
The boss moved closer. Good. That was exactly what she wanted. "Then I'll still you make you my dog. Except, instead of treats and praises, you'll be getting chains and leashes." He made a show of slowly rubbing the front of his pants up and down. The audacity of this walking-talking trashbag! Etsudo was a brazen woman, no doubt about that. Her tendency of cracking dirty jokes in any situation and enormous collection of online smut and erotica novels definitely made her more open to sex and lust. But there was her shameless nature, and then this racist bigot's insolence. Different as ass and elbow. Even for someone as bold as her, she had a strong sense of dignity. Vowing to herself to break his private parts he was so proud of, Etsudo baited him some more.
Laughing mockingly, she taunted him. "Charming, how you think BDSM is all it takes to get a woman turned on. Be honest with me: is that really all you're good at doing in the bedroom? Are you finding trouble bagging a girlfriend because of your poor attitude? Do even call girls turn you down? Because goddamn! Imagine getting rejected by a prostitute!"
The jeers worked. Bossman's expression contorted from smug confidence to burning rage. "How fucking dare you?!" He raised his hand to hit her.
Etsudo beat him to it first, though. There was enough gap between them where Etsudo slammed the palm of her hand against his cheek with enough force to send him flying away. He landed with a crunch. This time, she pretended to shake off goo and slime from her hand. "Anyone else?" she asked sweetly.
And like any group of stupid goons who just watched their leader go down in one hit, they decided to tackle her next. Because of course if the leader did not stand a chance, the lackeys somehow do. Makes perfect sense! Her eyes rolled at their idiocy. All of them were so intoxicated that whatever quirks they attempted to summon flickered in and out. Acid spray? Just a trickle. Sleeping gas? It stank. Animal shapeshifting? The guy looked like a C-grade version of Charmander. An insult to her favorite Pokémon. Some of them did not bother with abilities. Their overinflated ego amazed her when they pulled out Swiss knives, golf clubs, and baseball bats.
Who was Etsudo to back down from a challenge, either? Especially one where it was such an easy win? Sympathetic system going hyper, her lips pulled apart, baring the fangs she masked behind a smile. Claws flashed at the tips of her fingers, hooked and sharp. Orienting her position into defense mode, she placed her feet shoulder-width apart and bent her knees just a bit. Fists rose and tensed in front of her face, forming an X barrier. Etsudo was ready to for them to fall into her trap when a sudden gust of cold wind appeared out of nowhere, spiralling the snow everywhere. Her nose began to itch in response to the wind chill. Against her better wishes, Etsudo instinctively covered her nose and sneezed vigorously. In the process, she lost her balance and tumbled backward.
Cocky boss, who recovered surprisingly quickly for a drunkard on a free rollercoaster ride, chortled at her state before lugging a nail-embedded bat with him.
She internally cursed nature and her own blasted luck as she rubbed her nose to shake off the itchy feeling. Etsudo was almost a moment too late when an arc of orange soared through the air. A high-pitched bark escaped her mouth. Shattered glass, wet cloth reeking of chemicals, and flames. Her beautiful, fluffy tail almost got burned by it. Molotov cocktails. She barely dodged the second incendiary. Snapping her head toward the source, she watched two idiot goons alight entire crates filled with Molotov cocktails. All right, so maybe she should not have dismissed them completely. Even wasted assholes could be a little threatening if they dredged up enough soberness. Still … Screw them!
Rising into racing position, she dashed toward the crates and knocked them over. Most bottles crashed on impact. The lackeys screamed insults at her. Their curses were hardly more than background noise compared to the crackling flames of fury burning in Etsudo's mind. Rather, she quieted them indefinitely by karate chopping their neck with the sides of her hands. They crumpled instantly like ragdolls.
Team clubs-and-bats were next up. Just as they arrived to avenge their fallen comrades, Etsudo took off running. Switching to quadrupedal mode, she danced to their blows. A swing of the bat; she ducked. An arc of the bat; she dodged. A volley of both; she leaped over them. All the while, she giggled at their desperate attempts. Fighting drunkards was far more entertaining than Etsudo had imagined. Especially when said drunkards hit each other more often than they hit her. Looks like that collective soberness was short-lived.
Managing to snag onto a balcony railing, she hovered over their heads, out of reach. They stumbled toward her, slamming the clubs against the bars and throwing switchblades off course. Listening to them wail like babies whenever she pressed her heel against their hands sent thrills of delight down her spine. The boss, who she noticed was keeping his distance from her, appeared to be trembling. Victory was already half hers; Etsudo decided it was time to seize all of it.
Somersaulting over the goons' heads, she landed gracefully on the snow. Not for long, though. Before they could turn around and hit, Etsudo initiated her barrage of attacks. Some kicks to the noses, punches to the gut, and a few broken limbs later, the inebriated fools were knocked out.
Etsudo made her way to the last standing opponent. Lazily kicking aside one mugger who lied in her path, she grinned at the boss's uncomfortableness. He started backing away, stammering things like, "Please leave me! Sorry about everything I said! You can take the money instead!" The bat slipped from his hands.
"Oh no, it's too late for any of that," Etsudo replied, a malicious tone to her voice. "You can't take back actions, and you can't take back words." She had him cornered against a wall. His eyes darted left and right, searching for an escape. But a low snarl from her throat served plenty of a warning. "Now stand still like a good pet." And she kneed him hard in the groin. The face bossman made next made Etsudo erupt into peals of laughter. Eyes bulging nearly out of their sockets and a choked down scream behind puffer fish-shaped mouth. She wiped tears from the corners of her eyes as the guy literally twisted his knees inward and hobbled away, clutching his private part that he was so boastful of. "Where are you going?" she asked between breaths. "The BDSM session isn't over yet!" recalling her earlier jibe.
He whipped his head around, seething so intensely that drool trickled from the corner of his lips. Hissing, he rushed back toward, anger overcoming the sensation of testicle-breaking agony.
"Cute how you think you still stand a chance after everything that's happened." Etsudo passed a glance at the solely intact incendiary bottle by her feet. And once he was close enough … "Got you!" One clean kick to the glass, and it spun in the air before knocking against the boss's head. Unconscious instantly.
Some time later, Etsudo had securely restrained the thugs to metal poles around the construction site with some rope she found inside the buildings. By the time the police would arrive after she made the phone call, the goons would just start regaining consciousness.
Then she turned her attention toward the victim. Crouching to his level, she searched for the extent of injury. The guy was knocked out like the others, but for different reasons. A steady pulse was present. So was the even, rhythmic breathing. Save for the few bruises marring his face and the broken nose, Etsudo figured he was not worse for wear. Perhaps he did not need medical attention. Which was why she gently patted his cheek to get him to wake up. Some jolts later, the man arose.
It was then that Etsudo noticed his features. Despite being beaten up, the man was handsome. Cropped, coffee brown hair with striking frost color eyes. A light stubble coating the lower half of his face and small hoop earrings in both ears. He appeared to be around her age, give or take a year or two. Blearily, he looked around before finally settling his gaze on her. And Etsudo could not look away. Those eyes were his most attractive trait. Their hue reminded her of snow and ice and everything she loved about winter. She would not be surprised if this man told her that his birthday was between December and March.
"Hello," he murmured, once he registered her presence. "Have we met before?"
A shiver coursed down her spine, having nothing to do with the weather, although she wished it were because of that. Brushing the sensation off would have become so much easier then. "No," she replied. "But I did save your butt just now. Lookie there." And she stepped aside for him to view the scenery. Those muggers trapped in the same position that he once was stuck in.
His expression contorted from that of confusion to one of shock and amazement. "Thank you so much!" He rose to his feet and bowed fervently. Etsudo marvelled at his height. He was shorter than her, but taller than Kamiko's boyfriend. Perhaps one hundred and seventy-five centimeters? "I was taking the long way home to enjoy the snowfall when they accosted me out of nowhere and threatened me to give them money. Goodness, I really thought I was going to die today." The thick winter coat masked his figure, but Etsudo assumed he was likely lean. The trembling persisted. She learned about it from her parents. Heard about it from Kamiko. But never thought the day would come when she would experience it for herself.
Her floofy brush of a tail wagged.
Damn it! A mate bond!
It was weak currently; just the tolerable shivers. For the love of all things holy, she had yet to learn his name! But a part of her knew that he was a good man. As he continued explaining his situation, Etsudo observed that none of his mannerisms belayed repulsion or uncomfort toward her. His posture was lax. Speech was easy. Most of all, he maintained eye contact. That was the best part. And the worst.
Those winter eyes would be the cause of her demise!
Stop being dramatic, she scolded herself. But the emotional part of her mind paid no heed to the logical part.
When he finished speaking, Etsudo - who had not realized when she had stood up herself - extended her hand. "It was my duty. Think nothing of it. I'm Gushiken Etsudo. Nineteen years old. Karate martial artist with black belt. Preparing for prefecture tryouts. The police are on their way here, by the way. Sorry, but you'll have to give them the whole spiel again."
He laughed at her remark and shook her hand enthusiastically. "Masatsuki Shizuya. Pleasure to meet you, Gushiken-san. I'm also the same age, and doing my bachelor's in computer science." He glanced at the ragtag team of looneys again. "I suppose it can't be helped. As long as they serve jail time, I'll give my testimony as many times as needed."
Even his name had to do with wintertime. Gods, this was too good!
It did absolutely no wonders for her now slightly more bothersome tremors.
She tried to ignore it when the police arrived. When they took Masatsuki's statement. When they hauled the thugs' limp asses into the ambulance. When the paramedics conducted a triage on Masatsuki and determined that his nose would heal by itself with rest and some painkillers. Etsudo managed to tamper the feeling down to an itch, but a stubborn itch.
Here was the thing about dogs: most of them were not monogamous. The domesticated ones rarely formed bonds for life with their mates. Unlike foxes. Unlike wolves and their other canine relatives. The species she was a mutant of was no exception. However, her parents were married. So were their parents. And theirs. And every generation before. Whether the intimate bond was the product of the human side of their nature or simply societal expectations … Etsudo did not really know. And she decided not to question it, either.
So after the police were done interrogating her and drove off with the criminals in handcuffs, she asked Masatsuki, "Would you like to get a coffee before going home? My treat."
"Thank you," he replied. "I'll take your offer."
Ignoring the hushed comments of the patrons nearby, the two of them had a pleasant time.
That night, Etsudo returned home feeling like she made a decision that she would not regret.
Three weeks later, Etsudo was still confident in her choice.
One simple coffee led to an exchange of numbers to an invitation to the aquarium to a run-in at the grocery store to a realization that they attended the same college and worked in the same vicinity to a few dates on campus grounds and pickups after work to a formal request to date. Which he accepted, by the way. They became first name basis immediately after.
Now, they were participating in a double date at Kamiko's home. Both Kamiko and Shizuya were interested in hearing how they first met, and Shizuya - being the introvert of the duo - was all too happy to let Etsudo explain. That fateful, snowy January evening.
By the time, she finished the story, she had not realized when she had cuddled into her boyfriend's side like a lovesick puppy, and when he had begun stroking the fur of her ears. And when she did, her tail froze up and ears hooked upward. This behavior was so not like her! How could she - the guru of all things lust and desire - blush like a girl experiencing her first crush! Before the rest of her body could belay her shyness, Etsudo tampered the sensation down and slowly, but reluctantly, eased out of his touch. Later, she promised herself. When they were alone, that was when she would behave like an absolutely touch-starved innocent baby and cuddle him without reservations.
Unfortunately for her, Kamiko had already noticed.
As Midoriya and Shizuya conversed about something related to the evolution of artificial intelligence, Kamiko passed a brief yet obvious malicious smirk in Etsudo's direction. If her tail could become any stiller, it would have been a rock.
Stop that! She silently scolded Kamiko with a pointed glare.
Her best friend's grin widened. Almost shit-eating style. Make a sex joke now, you imbecile. I dare you.
Kamiko, I swear. Pretend you saw nothing.
The vixen had the gall to snicker behind closed lips. Tell me, are you this shy in the bedroom or have you not reached that stage yet?
I will murder you in your sleep!
To think that the girl with the largest *** collection known to mankind is so self-conscious when it comes to intimacy in her own life … who would have thought? Oh, how the mighty have fallen!
Etsudo hoped Kamiko could hear the long and dramatic internal sigh. Her own tactics against herself. She was never going to hear the end of this day for weeks to come.
Meanwhile, at many homes and hotels in Tokyo, some girls were up to far more scandalous shenanigans than Etsudo.
In the quiet, cluttered corner of her bedroom, Mei, twitched with barely contained energy. Her fur, a soft blend of white and brown, seemed to shimmer under the overhead light as she hopped erratically around her room. Her long, floppy ears flicked with every sudden movement, while her large, wide eyes darted around as if searching for something to expel her pent-up energy.
ADHD plus anxiety. Never a good combination. This rabbit mutant had an almost frantic energy about her, driven by an internal restlessness that had only intensified as her age increased. Mei had learned through hard experience that her mutant abilities came with an unpredictable and sometimes overwhelming force. The destructive energy within her was like a wild beast that needed constant taming.
She failed to control it most of the time.
Which is why she was in this situation at all. Not the first time. Definitely not the last.
"Calm down, calm down," she muttered to herself, her voice carrying an edge of desperation. Mei was always excited, but this time, it felt different. She was determined to find a way to channel her overwhelming nerves into something constructive. The ADHD-anxiety in her body felt like a constant buzz, a high-voltage wire in her veins that anticipated a moment where it could crackle unrestrained.
With practiced movements, Mei grabbed a bundle of tightly bound rubber bands and began snapping them against her skin. The sharp sting served to ground her, providing a momentary distraction from the mental tempest. She then picked up a series of small, metal balls and began rolling them between her palms, each motion calculated to help dissipate the excess energy.
In her mind, she visualized her anxiety as a flood threatening to burst through a dam. She had to reinforce the structure, add barriers, and control the flow before it consumed everything in its path. The problem was, the anxiety chipped away at the dam steadily, and her ADHD prevented her from immediately fortifying it again.
Heart racing, breaths shallowing. The room seemed to pulsate with the intensity of her efforts. Despite her attempts at calmness, her mind kept returning to those waters. The fear of what might happen if she failed to keep her power in check.
Before waiting for the dam to break and send her into a frenzy, Mei sprinted toward her medicine cabinet, grappling for the amphetamine and benzodiazepine medications. One pill of each and a mouthful of bottled water later, she slunk down the wall, feeling the stress leave her body.
Peace.
Temporary, yet blissful, peace.
And she resumed reinforcing the mental dam.
The love hotel room was a soft blur of color and warmth. Minato lay sprawled comfortably on the bed, her eight tentacles tangled around her partner like a web of affection. She lazily scanned the room in the dim pink light setting. It was strewn with discarded clothing - a visual testament to the passion that had just transpired. And a promise that more was to come. The deep, burgundy hue of Minato's tentacles was a stark contrast against the pale pink sheets.
Then she glanced to her right.
Echidna, her darling, dirty-minded lover, was wrapped tightly around her girlfriend, with a sly grin still lingering on her lips. Her own coils were a mix of shimmering green scales and skin, her eyes now softened and heavy with sleep.
Whatever dreams Echidna was having, Minato hoped they matched the atmosphere of the room. The air churned with intimacy and quiet satisfaction. The playful banter and intense energy of their earlier activities had melted away, leaving behind a peaceful calm.
It certainly had an effect on Minato. Her own mind drifted through a haze of post-coital contentment. Her thoughts were a tangled mess, too difficult to verbalize any one in particular, but in the most pleasant way. The warmth of Echidna's embrace was soothing, and she felt like whatever love and belonging was, it was this. The intensity of their connection had left her feeling utterly at peace. And what she would not give to immortalize that peace. The tentacles slowly curled and uncurled around her partner, performing their aftercare on Echidna.
Suddenly, Echidna sighed contentedly. Minato, feeling a bit more awake now, prepared to greet her slowly awakening girlfriend. Those amethyst eyes blearily opened, meeting her own amber ones.
"Good evening, my succubus," Minato drawled, before reaching over to kiss Echidna.
"Am I the succubus, or are you?" Echidna replied against her mouth, her own hands rising to tangle into Minato's mini tentacles for hair. "Couldn't even wait for me to get out of the twilight zone before going at it again." The kiss deepened.
Minato bit Echidna's lip, pulling it toward her. The sounds it elicited from Echidna only emboldened Minato. "Look who's talking," she whispered, nipping at the lip. "One hand busy twisting my sea curls and the other digging into my waist. " Indeed, there was no gap left between their bodies. "You just can't seem to get enough of me."
As if that was all the incentive needed, Echidna grabbed onto her lover tightly before flipping them around on the bed. Now she was on top while Minato was on the bottom. Running her fingers over Minato's breasts, she promised, "In that case, my turn to take the lead then. Brace yourself, my sweet mortal. I'm about to defile you in ways that'll have you thinking sex can't get any better than this. And then I will prove you wrong again and again."
Minato grinned, already anticipating the next few hours until sunrise. Absolutely glorious hours.
"Challenge accepted."
Rin sat at her sewing machine, her delicate fingers moving with practiced ease as she worked on her latest project. The room was filled with the rhythmic hum of the machine and the soft rustle of fabric. Deep indigo. Bright saffron. Vivid yellow. The walls were lined with swatches of every conceivable shade, and bolts of fabric cascaded like waterfalls. Her surroundings were adorned with colorful threads, half-finished garments, and sketches pinned to the wall, each reflecting her passion for fashion designing.
One would think that an aspiring fashion designer would love nothing more than color. Wear colorful clothes, use vibrant bed accessories, fix timed multicolored lights along the ceiling border, and whatnot. In Rin's case, that was true. To an extent.
Known for her fearless use of color, her designs a riot of patterns and pigments that seemed to dance with life. Her creations won the highest marks from her professors and praise from her customers. The maestro of her major, they called her.
But really, the only flamboyant articles were the pieces she sewed. Otherwise, her wardrobe told a different story. Stocked with varying shades of black, grey, and white. Same with the shoes. The bed. The bathroom. The decor. And the lights … well, they were the classic white.
It was her philosophy that monochrome was not a mere personal fashion choice, but rather a deliberate retreat from the chaos of color. Her personal manifesto of simplicity. During one of her first presentations at the start of the academic year, she was asked to explain what color meant to her. "Color is a form of dialogue," she had explained. "A way to communicate ideas, emotions, and stories. I wish my designs to be a celebration of diversity, a playful exploration of aesthetics and expression. That being said, its counterpart is equally important: tranquility and focus. I find them in the form of monochrome." They were a canvas of calm where her thoughts could drift freely, unencumbered by the sensory overload of colors.
As she worked, Rin's mind wandered through the intricacies of her designs. Each stitch was a part of a larger vision, a blend of artistry and precision, exactly the way she wanted it. She took immense pride in her work, finding solace in the steady rhythm of sewing. It started out as a hobby, but at some point, it became a form of therapy. A way to channel her emotions and thoughts into something beautiful.
In the quiet of her black room, enveloped by the soft glow of a white lamp and the gentle hum of her grey machine, Rin felt a profound sense of peace. This was her sanctuary, her place of serenity amidst the chaos of the world outside.
In the warm, flickering glow of the fireplace, the mutant cat, Shirohana, sat with a contented purr. A sleek blend of greys and whites, her fur seemed to gleam orange in the firelight. She curled up close to the hearth, her long, whiskered face nuzzling against her mother's side. The fire crackled and popped, casting dancing shadows across the room.
Her mother, a more mature version of the cat with a coat of deep, dark fur, lay nearby, her body radiating warmth. The sight of her mother burning beside the fire seemed almost symbolic, representing both the warmth and the transient nature of their lives. Shirohana had always found comfort in the presence of the fireplace, a place where she could feel both secure and at peace.
The quiet meows that resonated from Shiro were soft and rhythmic. Mesmerized by the way the flames flickered in and out, she had not realized when she had unconsciously timed her breathing to match them.
She was in her element, surrounded by the comforting presence of her mother and the familiarity of home. The fire was a source of both physical comfort and emotional solace, a place where she could let her guard down and simply be.
As the flames danced, Shirohana's thoughts were a mix of gratitude and melancholy. In a matter of months, she would be shifting to the other side of Honshu to the city of Kyoto for a summer research opportunity. It scared her to be so far away from Tokyo. From home. The fire would die out eventually, just like the fleeting nature of time and the moments that passed too quickly. But she tried to remind herself that even though there would be kilometers of distance between herself and her mother, their love would persist.
There was no point in stressing about the future. Not now, at least.
Right now, in the cozy embrace of the fire's heat, Shirohana felt a deep connection to her mother and to the memories that the flames evoked. It was a moment of quiet reflection, a time to appreciate the simple joys of life and the comfort of home.
That was a gift in and of itself.
One that she would not hesitate to take.