Krin took the picture.

The rest of the day was spent in relative silence. Krin resumed her teaching, and Shiro learned to the best of his abilities. They didn’t talk about the event after that. The evening arrived, and they went about their separate ways. Krin stayed behind, claiming I still have some things to do. Shiro left the reptile to herself and walked back to his dorm.

As proven before, word travelled fast. There was barely anyone who hadn't known what happened in the library that afternoon. It was obvious; the gazes Shiro received now were different from the glares and leers before. Replacing them were either silent, hidden unease or barefaced alarm. Walking back to the dorm felt like lazing against a weak current. A pathway opened itself up among the crowd wherever Shiro went; the occupants of the corridors pushed and shuffled to the side whenever the wolf showed up, leaving a small radius of space around him. All held different looks on their faces, yet they said the same thing: dreadful aversion.

It was a familiar scene Shiro hadn’t felt for a long while.

When he reached the dorms, Vox and Romps were already there. From the looks of their faces, the news had already been spread far and wide. They kept to themselves, ate at the same table in silence and went to bed. Shiro didn't speak to them. Neither did the two.

The same thing happened the next morning, only in reverse. Shiro left earlier than the two. He woke up before the sun did. It was a fine nap; he slept soundly through the night without a single hint of a dream. He was grateful for it. He walked across the cold, wooden floor, past his still out-cold roommates and looked out the balcony. Darkness lingered on the cloudless sky, uncertain of whether it's a tint of black or just very, very dark blue.

The wolf got dressed in silence, grabbed his flap-over briefcase and left the dorm before the break of dawn.

The lobby was still relatively empty. Perhaps some had left before him, but it still felt as if he was the first one to leave for today.

The snake sat on the counter as it always did. Shiro greeted it.

"Morning," he said.

The snake looked down and, for a moment, seemed to have something to say. It opened its mouth and let its tongue linger for a while before deciding otherwise. It simply nodded its gigantic snout and tipped its SECURITY cap, as it always did.

Shiro stepped out into the dying night and took the opposite direction from the Academy.

The park held a very different atmosphere in the absence of sunlight. His eyes slowly became accustomed to the darkness as the contours of the trees and bushes began shaping before his sight. The colourless greenery exuded a mild fragrance, further accented by the cold, stagnant air acting as its catalyst. Sometimes a sting of salt could be sensed, carried by the distant sea from the nearby cliffs. The wind was tame and weak, barely struggling to shake the leaves to serve the ambience against the crippling silence dominating the air. The only reliable source of noise came from Shiro's bare feet; his nails clicked against the paved road as he strolled down the lane. A slight chill would occasionally caress his soles, as the ground was still moist from the midnight dew dropping from the trees above.

The sound of rushing water started to grow as Shiro walked.

Shiro came to a stop when he reached a roundabout with a fountain in the middle. He recognised the sight immediately; he'd just been here a few days ago, after all. A vending machine stood beside the fountain, and Shiro made a beeline towards it. It had no slot for physical money, only buttons for drinks. He picked a can of black coffee and sat down in the fountain, letting the sound of crashing water fill his ears before cracking the can open and taking a sip.

The sum of every emotion he had since last week flowed into him in one go.

The can crinkled under his grip.

A valve was forced open in his chest as the pressure within spun it wildly. Shiro felt many emotions in one go. Some made him whimper, some that made him grit his teeth, some that made him choke and some that made him bite his tongue. Some even made him laugh out of disbelief. He kept a straight face throughout it all, letting it all run wild inside of him.

Every time he felt something crawling up from his throat he'd down a gulp from the can. The bitter pang from the coffee would wash it all down, pulling it back to the rightful place where it belonged. As it journeyed downwards it'll latch its nails into the walls within his neck, dragging its claws across as it fell. He repeated this process until his emotions got tired and retreated into his chest, twisting the valve shut before locking themselves in.

It took Shiro three cans before they stopped.

By then, the sun finally broke over the landscape. The light began shining over the trees, pulling the dark brown of the wood and the thick greens of the bushes and leaves. It rose above the horizon, extending its rays over Shiro's bare toes. He stood up with the three cans in his pockets and began his journey towards the Academy.

He met Krin on the crossroad that split the Boys’ Dormitory and the Girls’ Dormitory. They caught each other, just as Shiro emerged from the trees. The wolf saw the lizard walking along the side of the road, away from the main stream of students coming from the middle.

She was in her usual uniform, with the addition of a grey sling bag hanging around her shoulder. The strap seemed loose and overextended from behind until Shiro saw how far her chest stretched it on the front. He quickly pulled his eyes up to meet her face. Same as ever. Her hair seemed different, though. If he couldn't notice any frails or slight notches from before, he could notice the lack of it now. It seemed considerably straightened, more so than before as if it was possible. Of course, it was, now that he could see it himself.

"Morning," Shiro announced.

Krin, surprised by Shiro, quickly reached into her sling bag and grabbed her signature red board.

Good morning, she wrote, before dropping it back into her sling bag.

Wordlessly, the two joined into a pair and walked together. The day was still premature, and the road towards the Academy entrance was sprinkled with early risers who knew how to mind their own business, walking far apart from each other, heads either down to their feet and dead ahead towards their destination.

They walked into the corridors together, side by side. The scenery was similar to the ones Shiro got during the weekends, only that there were just a tad more people walking alongside, wearing uniforms instead of casual clothing. Shiro took note of the time. It seemed like a good change of pace for his morning routine. He basked in the lack of attention, soaking in the spatial silence, so much so that he found himself paying his mind towards the lizard beside him.

Krin looked somewhat anxious today. The smile on her bare skull was still there, but her posture was irregular. Her shoulders were stiff as they held her arms from below. Her fingers moved about frequently, indecisive on how to lay relaxed. The tip of her tail, poking out underneath her long skirt, twitched around as if it belonged to a frantic snake.

It wasn't as if Shiro was actively finding peculiarities, but he also caught Krin glancing towards him at times, as they walked.

He decided to pay it no mind.

They arrived at the library. It was the same sight as before, with the glass ceiling above dousing the morning rays onto the tables below. The club president was nowhere to be seen, much to Shiro's relief. They sat themselves down behind the empty counter and arranged their things.

Shiro sat and waited. He figured Krin had something new for him today.

She barely had her books out from her sling bag. Her stationery was simply strewn about on her side of the counter. She sat on her seat, her fingers tapping on the surface of the counter. Her head seemed to shudder a lot as if she's trying to look towards Shiro but couldn't bring herself to it. Her back hunched over her chest, bottling something from within that she seemed reluctant to release.

It was a hunch at first, but Shiro knew something was bothering Krin. He didn't want to guess what it was.

He asked, "Things okay?"

Krin looked up towards Shiro, her skull lingering on his face for a moment.

Then her chest swiftly expanded and collapsed. She reached into her sling bag and pulled out her signature red board. She fiddled with it and turned it towards the wolf.

Can I ask you something?

Shiro didn't guess what it was. He nodded.

Krin turned the board and wrote.

I saw the videos in the forums.

Shiro kept his silence.

Krin was hesitant to pry further. She held the board up but looked away from the wolf. Her fingers shook as if she had wandered into unfamiliar territory.

Shiro replied a few moments after.

He asked, "What about it?"

Krin looked up, turned the board back and wrote.

What happened between you and Dove?

Shiro didn't respond for a moment.

Krin flipped the board back again and wrote.

Did you do something to him?

Shiro took a while before answering.

"No," he said, "Done nothing to him."

Krin wrote, What did he want? Is it from you?

Shiro opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn't get the words out. Or, rather, he couldn't find the right words to get out. He was stuck in an internal loop of finding the necessary vocabulary and simplifying it to a degree where Krin could understand.

In a quick attempt, Shiro explained, "He's finding something. I don't have it. Don't know what it is. He doesn't want to listen."

Krin then wrote, Did he say what it was?

The cycle repeated itself. It was even harder to explain, this time around. He couldn't possibly say it aloud without sounding like nonsense. He dug deep into his head, struggling to find the terminologies that could best get his point across. It didn't help that he was only intimate with the language to a basic degree.

"Said it was in a cell," Shiro explained.

Then he gritted his teeth.

"Don't know what it is."

Krin took a while to ponder on his words.

She then wrote on her red board and turned it around.

Did you hide it from him?

Shiro stared at the words for a moment. A creeping suspicion started rising from his chest. It felt like some revelation he'd known all along, long hidden in the back of his head and only now beginning to be aware of it.

Krin then wrote some more.

Did he ask you to help him find it?

The thought in his head slowly chipped away on its shell, exposing itself as the shards fell in the corners of his mind.

When did he last see it? she wrote, Maybe he thought you took it.

Then Shiro came to the realization.

Maybe you can talk it out with him, she wrote, Find it together, perhaps.

Shiro couldn't help but pull a wane grin on his face.

His position; his standing; his life experiences; his understanding of how the world works, and how it saw him. It all culminated into one sensation, honed and cultured by the years he lived through. It wasn't something that could easily be voiced out. He'd been trying to describe a concept where he understood not by words, but by feelings.

It wasn't an exclusive sensation, however. Life wasn't an open game where its contestants were simply let loose in an infinite playground. It was a large, uncountable set of cogs that filtered the players from where they started. It just so happened that the population rivalled those numbers of cogs, some shared the same path Shiro took with his life.

It also happened that a small number from those 'some' came to know of Shiro, and one of them is now chasing after him for aims of his own.

It was one sensation Krin wouldn't be able to understand. If she did, she wouldn't be here asking about it.

And to be honest, Shiro wouldn't have preferred it any other way.

For a split second, what'll happen if the roles were switched. He wondered what kind of questions he'd ask Krin. He wondered what kind of look Krin would have at the hypothetical moment. It'll probably be the same smile as ever. He couldn't think of the lizard in any other way aside from who she is now.

He entertained the fantasy for a little longer. He wondered what he'd become if life put him a little bit more to the left. He reckoned he'd have different ideas for life. He'd be thinking of things he wouldn't even be capable of conceiving right now. But that was the end of it. Flights of fancy were all it amounted to.

"No," Shiro said, "Not like that."

Krin asked, Then what is it?

Shiro wondered what to say next.

"It's not a thing," was all he could say.

Krin tilted her head, clearly in confusion.

"It's fine," Shiro said in haste, "Don't worry about it."

But then Krin shot up. She quickly scribbled something onto the board and turned it towards the wolf.

Won't you get hurt by him again?

Shiro saw what Krin wrote and stared at it. He stayed on that question. It was an unfamiliar string of words put together that he could understand but couldn't comprehend. It was to the point where he felt alien towards it, like a bunch of foreign words disguised in an elaborate costume to trick his mind into thinking it made sense.

He lingered on one particular word.

hurt

He repeated it in his head.

hurt

He repeated it one more time.

hurt

No, it still sounded strange. It always belonged to a bold, solid statement, not a watchful question of care, at least to Shiro.

"I can handle it," Shiro said.

That sent Krin to an even more frantic pose. From Shiro's perspective, it seemed as if he'd been piling one bad omen after another towards her. She quickly flipped her board, attempting to find the words in her skull as her fingers shook over the board.

Shiro slowly placed a hand over the red board. Krin glanced up to meet his eyes, her fingers stopping. The wolf pushed the board down to her thighs, covering the screen with his palm.

"It's fine," he said, "Believe me."

Krin seemed as if she wanted to say more as her shoulder raised from both sides, her intent on the red board now sitting on her thighs as clear as day. Then they subsided, along with her head. Her snout drooped down, her hair falling over the sides of her skull.

Then, her fingers moved. Shiro noticed it. He looked down, seeing Krin fiddle with the knobs on both ends of the red board, even with his hand over the screen.

He waited until Krin stopped before lifting his hand.

Can I at least know what's happening between you and Dove?

Shiro was impressed, as the words were written in an upright position when he sat at the opposite end.

Then he wondered what to tell Krin next.

He opted for an inquiry instead, "Why?"

Free from Shiro's hand, Krin flipped the board back towards her.

I don't like seeing others get hurt, she wrote.

Shiro read the word in his mind again.

hurt

It was a statement, without a doubt. It presented itself bold and solid without any proverbial veil to hide underneath. It was as honest as the best policy could get.

It still didn't sound right to Shiro.

"You wouldn't understand," was the conclusion he gave to Krin.

Krin then flipped her board, her fingers ready to twiddle with the knobs before eventually sinking it back down to her thighs. Without a second word, she placed the board beside her stationery and turned back towards her seat. She slowly reached into her bag, bringing her books out from it.

Her face was unreadable, but her posture seemed obvious. She looked dissatisfied; not out of disappointment, but from a position of worry and concern.

Shiro stared at her from the side for a moment.

"Say-"

Krin cranked her snout towards Shiro as soon as he heard his first word.

Shiro was slightly surprised by it. Still, he continued.

"There's a wall. Only I can see it," he said, "There's something behind it."

Krin took her board and wrote.

What is it?

"I don't know," Shiro said, "But I want it. I really want it. If I don't get it I die."

Krin seemed taken aback by this. She sharply straightened her back as she continued listening.

"There's a way over it," Shiro said, "Over the wall. It's the only way."

He paused for a moment.

"You have to see people get hurt."

Krin's mouth dropped ajar, only by a mere inch.

"You will see blood. Broken arms. Cracked fingers. Twisted legs," Shiro said, "They will cry. Ask to stop. Ask to die. They won't be listened to. They will keep getting broken. Keep getting cracked. Keep getting twisted. Keep getting hurt-

-until I get over the wall."

He then turned towards Krin.

He asked, "Would you do it?"

Krin quickly wrote, How would it work?

Shiro didn't answer. He sat there, patiently, waiting for Krin's.

Krin wrote some more, Is there no other way?

Shiro kept his silence.

Krin wrote again, How is it possible?

Shiro didn't bother to read the words at all. He stared straight towards Krin's skull, his feline, ruby red pupils laser-focused onto her snout.

He asked again.

"Would you do it?"

Krin had written some more when Shiro asked her the question, but just as she was about to show it, her arms paused. She glanced to meet the wolf's eyes. She looked back down to her red board and flipped it, writing something else instead

Yes.

Shiro smiled.

"See," he said, "You wouldn't understand."

Lucille purred as she had her fangs gently brushed. She wiggled her head, letting out a low rumble as spotted, yellow thumbs lightly split her teeth to each side. From the low voice spilling out of her small body, she seemed to enjoy this quite a bit.

Leo asked the wolf spider, "Shouldn't you be working right now?'

The wolf spider gave another low, listless hiss. Her three pairs of eyes drooped onto Leo's palm as her head slid down, too intoxicated in bliss to hear anything from the leopard.

Leo then sat up from his upper bunk, jolting the spider from his hand.

He arched over his knees, resting his palm on his mattress as the wolf spider looked up to him.

"That's enough for today," he said.

Lucille replied with an unsatisfied hiss, dragging it from a high tone to a low purr.

Leo raised the wolf spider to his eye level, "I've promised to meet a lovely pride of lionesses. I've already let them down twice. A third wouldn't be a charm, would it?"

The wolf spider let out another long hiss, dropping to her abdomen as she rubbed her chin against his thumb.

"Aww," Leo remarked, "I guess five minutes wouldn't hurt, would it?"

The wolf spider rang a high-pitched purr from the depths of her body, her fangs jolting as she raised from her legs in excitement.

"Just one thing before that, though," Leo said.

Lucille raised her head, all six of her eyes staring intently at the leopard.

"Shiro," he asked, "What else can you tell me about him?"

Lucille then raised her front legs, as if she was about to show something.

Then, as Lucille moved, the sound of an opening doorknob clicked from behind. It caught both the leopard and the wolf spider's attention. Leo kept her up on his palm as he popped a head out from his upper bunk, peering out from atop his bed.

"Ah, it's you," Leo said.

Curious, Lucille hopped off Leo's hand and onto his mattress, where she could get a good view of the dorm's doorway.

Lucille frantically let out a soft, sharp shrill and jumped to the other end of Leo's upper bunk, leaping as far away from the doorway as possible.

The leopard missed her disappearance as he turned back to see that his palm now held nothing but the empty air. He looked around his bed, the wolf spider nowhere to be seen. He reckoned she had scampered away to some unknown corner of the dorm; somewhere no one could ever find her.

"You scared her away," Leo remarked loudly.

A disembodied voice spoke from the doorway.

It asked, "Who?"

Leo turned back to the doorway, answering with a soft tone and a grin, "Lucille. We were just about to play charades."

Dove glanced back from the doorway, dressed in his usual uniform, digging his thumb under the back of his shoe as he removed it, "Who?"

"The spider," the leopard replied, "You're really bad with names."

"Doesn't matter to me," the Doberman replied, stepping into the room, dropping some notebooks onto the coffee table, sitting in the middle of the room.

He turned towards the lower bunk underneath Leo and started undressing his uniform.

Leo reached over his bed and hung his arm just over Dove's face, "What time is it now?"

Dove raised his free hand towards his pockets as he fiddled his uniform's buttons with the other. He pulled out his phone and checked it.

"Three," he answered.

"Ah," Leo exclaimed, "Just in time."

The leopard pushed himself from his mattress and leapt off from the top bunk, his ears brushing against the ceiling as he leapt down. He revealed himself to be naked, leaping out as he spun to meet Dove face to face, his gonads swivelling from spontaneous action as he landed on his toes.

The Doberman took a glance up towards the leopard. His body held a stark contrast with his appearance. Where his soft face threaded the fine line between the perception of sexes and crippled the idea of common gender roles, everything below the chin spoke otherwise.

Though his frame was slim and slender, he made up for it by pushing what he had to its absolute limit. His neck held a smooth yet rigid shape, veins crawling and wrapping across it as they reached his shoulder, which grew over his arms like a shell. His biceps tugged his skin tight, further accentuating the tense strings of fibres bursting from within. His legs were equally comparable as his thighs rolled off from the sides, curving down to his knees in sly before his calves broke out and called shotgun beneath it.

His pectoral muscles were flat but shaped, rising from the edges of his shoulder to his back like subtle mounds against his white underfur. His pecs were similar, riding from his chest down to his crotch with a faint outline. Yet, even as they sat understated on his body, its rigidity shone under the faint shadows doused by the afternoon sunlight peeking from the windows.

It was evident Leo didn't have a lot to work with. Even with his sturdiness, his given, lacking foundation still showed. His muscles only grew as much as superficial extensions from his limbs, even with their tough exterior. His elbows and knees jutted out between his joints like a posing doll stripped of its clothing, leaving its skeleton exposed. It also didn't help much that he was just a tad bit shorter than the average height for boys his age.

Dove glanced away, his expression seemingly unfazed by Leo's bare body as he tugged his jacket's sleeve. He pulled out his arm. It was as if each bicep dominated a unit on his limb, threatening to break his bones through sheer pressure alone. They stretched the blank, white tee Dove wore underneath his uniform, creases raging across the sleeves and the seams of the stitches.

Whereas Dove couldn't seem to stop, Leo looked as if there was nothing left on him he could grow.

Leo looked towards Dove's jacket and asked, "Can I have that?"

Dove looked up to the leopard with his ever-present glare.

"All's in the wash," Leo added sheepishly.

Without another word, Dove took off his arm from the other sleeve and passed it onto Leo.

"You're a sweetheart," Leo commented, "I'll get it back tonight. Clean."

Dove gave no response. He stood up, walking past Leo as he walked towards the other side of the dorm.

"Wait," Leo suddenly said.

Dove looked behind.

There Leo stood right by the bunk bed, his feet facing outwards, his shoulders raised. He held the Doberman's jacket, clutching it by its two sleeves. He wrapped it around his palm, stretching it tight and tense. He lowered it to his chest level and spoke.

"Punch me."

Dove was unresponsive for a moment, staring at the leopard and his jacket.

Then he raised a stance, holding two fists up against his face. His boiling, brown pupils shoot a solid glare from between his arms. He shifted his legs, putting one foot in front of the other.

They stood on the spot, both within range of each other's reach. It was a voluntary impasse, where one was simply waiting for the other to make a move.

The deadlock didn't last long, though.

Dove snapped his neck and fired a right hook towards Leo's face.

From the Doberman's perspective, his punch connected. There was the sight; a straight, rigid fist, breaching through Leo's space. He saw his wrist twisting with force from his shoulder, his knuckles breaking the leopard's nose, smashing the bridge of his nose and caving his eyes inwards.

It was a direct impact, hitting right on target with carnage to spare.

Yet, Dove couldn't feel it.

A split second later his eyes caught up with his sense of touch.

Leo's face was completely intact. Dove's fist had reached him; it was only the matter that the leopard himself wasn't there.

His knuckles hadn't broken through Leo's face. Rather, it was the leopard himself that seemed to disperse. His presence was reduced from a physical entity to that of a mirage; a bare image.

What the Doberman saw was his fist disfiguring an apparition. An untouchable illusion.

Dove's head struggled to keep up. His pupils darted across the room, looking for Leo's true body. His nose went to work, scraping the air for Leo's scent.

Before he could catch up, the apparition phased through his arm, jumping right in front of his face, its toxic green eyes shooting straight into his. The sight triggered his reflexes. Image or not, he needed space. He needed distance. Dove pulled his foot backwards, trying to cover the ground behind him.

Then, before he could do anything, something clutched his arm. It pushed his left fist against his throat, locking his wrist to the side of his neck. He could feel what it was. His arm was pushed to the back, dragging his breath with him.

It all happened in a blink as Dove wrestled with his senses. It felt as if he'd experienced thirty seconds in one.

He pulled his eyes down and saw his jacket, stretched to its absolute creases, holding his arm and throat. He glanced up and saw the apparition, choking him with his jacket. Yet, unlike before, Dove could catch Leo's scent, fuming under his nose. The Doberman retracted his right arm, pushing against the apparition's chest as he fought to release the pressure on his neck. This time, he could feel Leo's body; from beneath his tough pectorals, Dove could feel the leopard's heart, thumping a slow, consistent beat.

Leo then asked, "Remember what you told me when we're still children?"

Dove, still held behind his jacket, panted out, "What?"

The leopard pushed his nose against Dove's, pulling their snouts downwards as he stared straight into the Doberman's eyes.

"You didn't forget, did you?"

Dove wheezed out for a moment, his breath mixing in with Leo's as they butted heads.

"I didn't," he said, "It was a promise."

"So you do remember," Leo remarked.

The leopard paused for a moment.

"What happened last Saturday?"

Dove's eyes widened for a moment.

"How-"

"I have my ways," Leo said.

"Did the mutt-"

"I knew before that," the leopard replied, "He's just there to confirm it."

Leo pushed the jacket harder against the Doberman's neck.

For once in a long while, the leopard's voice dropped to a growl. His eyebrows crossed to a glare, exuding a noxious green shade from his pupils.

"What happened to the promise, Dove?"

Dove didn't answer for a moment.

Then he twisted his arm. He wrangled his wrist, turning his palm outwards and clasping his fingers down hard onto the jacket. With one pump of breath, he wrestled against Leo, pulling the jacket away from his neck as he raised it above his head. His biceps breathed in heaves of blood, visible veins setting roots across his arm.

Leo kept pushing the jacket but to no avail. His arms, strained to their absolute limit, dangled violently as he held onto the sleeves, lifted from behind Dove's shoulders to his ears as the Doberman tugged his jacket higher and higher. He fell below Dove's line of sight as his shoulders went away with his arms, brushing away from Dove's head and staring up to the Doberman from below his snout.

His breaths glazing across Leo's forehead, Dove growled, "I'm keeping my end of the promise. Things changed, but the deal's still on.

"I'll get to you soon enough."

Just as Dove finished speaking, the jacket gave way. The miniature tug-of-war occurring above their heads came to a conclusion as the fabric lost grip of its threads and lost its sleeves with a loud rip. A sudden force lunged towards both Leo and Dove as they stumbled backwards. Dove held his footing as Leo fell onto Dove's shoulders, his fists still holding the jacket's torn sleeves.

Leo moved away from Dove's shoulders. The tension in his body was gone. His arms lost the enraged strength they once held. His shoulders slacked, sliding to his side as his waist gave way to his hips. He looked up to the Doberman; a sweet, sheepish smile was spread across his soft cheeks. The dark shade in his eyes dissipated, returning to the prurient, toxic green it always held.

He whispered with a soft, apologetic tone that seemed to carry a tinge of relief with it.

"Sorry about that."

Leo pushed himself away from Dove. He looked to his fists, still holding the torn sleeves.

"Guess I'll go with a singlet only," he sighed, "Bet the girls will appreciate- why're you looking down for?"

The Doberman, his eyes glaring down Leo's legs, refused to answer. Leo then looked down himself.

"Ah," the leopard remarked.

He looked back up with a grin, "Seems I got a little too excited."

Dove lowered his arm and extended a free hand towards Leo.

"Give it to me," he said.

Leo exclaimed, eyes widened, "Right now? In the afternoon? I've got somewhere to be, you know…"

"The sleeves," Dove said.

Leo pulled a cheeky grin as he handed the ripped sleeves towards the Doberman, all bunched up into a ball, "I know."

"See you tomorrow," Shiro said, "Thanks for today."

Krin nodded, writing on her board, Have a safe journey.

The sun was already falling off the horizon by the time Shiro rode the crowd back to the dorms. As always, Krin stayed behind, doing whatever it is she gets up to at the time. Shiro reckoned she'd do it with great diligence anyway. He imagined the lizard sweeping around the place with a broom and rearranging every bookshelf every evening until late at night. It seemed very likely of Krin to do so.

Deep in thought as he walked, Shiro supposed it'll be likely for Krin to do anything. He recalled a moment just this afternoon, just when they were taking a break, where a moose willingly walked up to the counter and asked for a delivery service from the lizard to pick up his lunch from the cafeteria.

Without even questioning him, the lizard shot straight up and did as the moose told. She came back moments later only to be scalped twice. First was by the moose for being late, despite Krin getting his order perfectly without even having provided his name. The second time was by the club president, who arrived just minutes after Krin left and chided her for leaving Shiro on the counter as if she had let the sky fall on the library.

Throughout it all, Krin kept nothing but a smile and polite words on her red board.

It drilled deeper into Shiro the more he thought about it. How does Krin do it? He knew why, but he also understood the concept of limits. The lizard seemingly has none. Not once had Shiro seen her let up or laze through her tasks. That virtue shone the most for the wolf, so much so that it became a blazing curiosity. Commitment’s one thing, but she held a bottomless enthusiasm too. She worked as if she owed the world a thing and a half, even for what she despised.

Shiro’s mind then drifted off to the conversation he had with Krin that morning.

Yes.

He remembered the word well. It felt concrete to his eyes, that it wasn’t simply just strokes on a screen of a red board. He saw a steeled conviction that spoke volumes within that silent, written word. He felt as if it had a presence on its own, and that it had its own weight, dimension, and shadow. He felt that if opened his palm and reached out, he could feel a texture and possibly warmth, all exclusive to that one word alone.

Yes.

It wasn’t even self-serving; it was for an acquaintance she barely met days ago that, frankly speaking, brought more trouble than he's worth. It’s not that he was worth anything in the first place, at least to Krin, Shiro thought. Yet, she still wrote it. It held a complete contradiction to her previous words, almost tethering to total annihilation; all with just one word.

Yes.

He started to feel the distance between his understanding of Krin’s tenet. Her rationale started presenting itself in the back of Shiro’s head. The sheer fortitude of her resolution had only begun to dawn on him. Shiro couldn’t fathom the possibility of a motive so fierce as to build a will this strong.

He wondered if she ever did anything for herself.

Perhaps this is what she wanted. Incomprehensible selflessness that, to the best of Shiro’s understanding, could only be described as unorthodox. He didn’t have the heart to consider the implications behind it, only that he hoped Krin reserved the clemency of judgement to her dogma.

Then Shiro snapped out of thought and found himself standing in a half-packed elevator, currently riding its way up the twelfth floor. In a panic, Shiro leaned in and slammed on the button for the fourteenth floor, brushing against many others who’d be more than happy to go about their days with their uniforms untouched by Shiro’s presence. His fingers somehow slipped and slammed against three extra floors, prompting many dirty looks from the occupants of the elevator, already unsatisfied with having to share a ride with the wolf.

“Sorry, sorry,” was all Shiro could say. He tried to hide it with a timid voice, but with a throatful of crushed glass he ended up sounding more comedic than apologetic.

He slipped out of the elevator as soon as his floor was up. He made his way across the elevator hall and towards 1450, light in his steps now that he's free from the glares of the elevators.

In fact, he felt rather light this evening, as if a huge weight had been lifted off his body. Perhaps it was the release from his mindfulness. He figured a good, deep thought every once in a while could recalibrate his head.

He opened the door and stepped in, feeling the cool breeze of the air-conditioning run through his fur. He felt rejuvenated. Blissful, if he might add, though only for a moment, but it was better than nothing.

As he stepped in, Vox poked his head out from the orange tent on his top bunk, his giant ears twitching as he looked to see whoever it was. The coffee table, as always, was filled with textbooks and material, strewn about across the surface.

"Evening," Shiro announced as he stepped in.

Vox kept a long look at Shiro as he stepped in. He told the wolf to leave the keys on the table when he leaves again. He assured the wolf that he'll be there to tend the door when he's back.

Shiro asked, "What?"

Vox tilted his head in confusion, asking if he's here to get something he forgot.

"N-No," Shiro answered, "I'm done for today."

Vox mentioned that Shiro looked somewhat empty-handed and that he thought the wolf was here to grab something. It was then when Shiro looked down to his shoulders and made the realization.

He'd left his briefcase in the library.

He looked up to the fox and blurted out, "Be back."

In a hurry, he dashed out of the door, but not before making a quick reverse, dropping the keys on the table and rushing out to the hallway again.

It was like an ironic joke played by his negligence. It wouldn't be a day in Rormund for Shiro without wading across some scornful looks from the students twice; once in the morning and another for the evening. This evening didn't count, as his head was way up in the clouds to notice anything. It was as if he intentionally left it there just so he could catch up to today's quota. The wolf wasn't bothered by it, though if given the choice, he'd pick otherwise.

He caught an empty elevator down, surprising the many others waiting at the lobby, watching a lone wolf burst out of the door. He jogged against the crowd, making his way back to the building he'd just left. Many had already congregated within the dorms by the time Shiro set out again, barely catching anybody's attention in the corridors as he ran towards the library.

He reached towards the library, pushing the door inwards. It opened to a scene of silence. As expected, Krin had cleaned up the place some. The scene of strewn chairs and misplaced books Shiro saw when he left was no more, replaced with organized shelves and chairs neatly stored under cleared, empty tables in even intervals.

He made his way towards the counter, where his briefcase sat right in the middle of it in near-perfect symmetry. He checked its contents. Everything was packed and organized methodically, notebooks, stationery, plastic water bottle and all. Shiro hadn't seen a briefcase this tidy before. He blew out a sigh of relief with a pinch of gratitude packaged within it.

He picked up the briefcase and just as he was about to leave, picked up something else along with it.

It was a sound, trailing the air in great clandestinity, but not stealthy enough to pass Shiro's ears undetected.

He paused in his steps and turned around, his perked ears darting around as he struggled to catch it again.

There it was once more, quiet and discreet. It sounded like a melody, playing in an irregular rhythm that was still somewhat identifiable.

A pang of curiosity hit the wolf. He was so engrossed in the sudden noise that he paid no mind for the implications, only that he needed to satisfy his interest. He walked deeper towards the library, passing the shelves as the sound grew louder by the minute.

It was then when he finally recognized the sound.

Piano?

Then Shiro finally came to his head.

He watched films on TV as a child. He wasn't a movie buff; the only choices he had were the ones given by the local channels. They'd play just about anything, ranging from comedies to drama to action to romance. Every once in a while, they'd broadcast some cheap horror flick, just to spice up the viewing experience. Shiro would catch them when they aired. He wasn't particularly scared, as they were commonly done on a low-budget and saturated after who knew how many sequels and spin-offs. Still, he was engrossed in them, and started catching patterns to those movies.

Right there, standing between the bookshelves, under the waning darkness of the sky above the glass ceiling, hearing the sound of piano notes whispering in the air, Shiro made a connection. He remembered the scenes from the movies he watched in the past and soon after, the implications.

Shiro wasn't so sure if he wanted to investigate it. He was old enough to understand the separation between fiction and reality, but not enough to ignore irrational thoughts. A collection of what if's drifted across his head, each more outlandish than the one before.

It was then when the notes suddenly stopped. It wasn't a graceful end. The melody had hit a tone too high and ruined the flow, prompting an immediate pause. It took a few seconds of silence before the sound returned, continuing as if it's been playing uninterrupted.

Shiro couldn't take it anymore. His heart objected to it with every beat, but Shiro decided to ignore it. He kept to the grounds of reality and pressed on, following the sound through the shelves. His canine instincts craved satiation for its questions.

There, sitting in the dark corner, away from the light shining down the glass ceiling, was a white door. It had no frame nor did it show visible hinges. It was simply a shape cut from the wall. It hid beyond general sight and stood at the end of a maze of shelves in an area rarely visited by students.

The piano notes sounded even clearer, leaking out of the seams of the door, though slightly muffled.

There weren't any doorknobs or handles sitting outside. Under normal circumstances, Shiro would've thought this was the end of the line. But his current circumstance was far from normal, and having been sent through two of the same kind of door, the wolf has some semblance of an idea of how this one would possibly work.

He placed a palm over one side and applied force.

As expected, a dull click sounded off from behind the door as Shiro pushed it in. He released his hand and the door swung outwards. A small gust blew outside as the door opened, smelling musky to his nose.

He checked inside the door.

There was a room behind it. It had a high ceiling, though not as high as the library itself. It seemed spacious, with enough height to accommodate two Shiros standing atop the other's shoulders. Fixed on the ceiling were tubes of white fluorescent lights, illuminating the white walls and tiled floors. Beneath it were tall, metal racks holding nothing but more books, reaching so high that they were bare inches from the ceiling.

Echoing around the place was the sound of the piano. It was indisputable, so much so that Shiro was doubtless of it.

As Shiro stepped in, another thought flew into his head. It came spontaneously, like a punch beyond the corner of his eyes.

What if-

Shiro shut it down immediately. He pressed on, walking into the room. The stagnant smell of the air brushed past his snout as he walked. It felt dry and cold, possibly from an unseen air-conditioning unit nearby. The floor felt cool to his bare feet. The sound of the piano grew louder and louder, invading the soundscape of the room.

Though it was his conscious decision, Shiro still clutched onto the briefcase a little tighter, just in case.

He made it to a crossroad. He stood on the spot, listened closer and made a turn, following the sounds. It did it again; hitting a note lower than it should. It paused again and, just as before, went in as if nothing happened.

Then Shiro reached the source.

It sat amongst a collection of vases and painting and other decorative items - a grand piano. It was the kind of piano you'd see in movies or professional concerts, with an open-top that showed its internal workings without a hint of shame. It was the only thing there that wasn't covered under dusty, translucent tarps. A sheaf of manuscripts sat on the piano, adorned with symbols and icons unrecognisable to the wolf's untrained eye.

Sitting behind it, fingers gracefully flying across the piano notes, was Krin. Her grey sling bag sat slacked on the side, leaning against the foot of the piano.

Though it wasn't her that Shiro got surprised over.

He saw something sitting across Krin. It was small. From afar it seemed small enough to fit into a palm. It stood just above the keys, propped up against some books on the piano.

It was his picture, the one Krin took yesterday. There, he flashed a forced, toothy grin. His snout was facing an angle where it seemed as if he's staring down at the camera, his feline eyes gazing from above like a demented patient. Watching from behind, Shiro felt himself staring deep into his eyes, sending surreal chills down his spine. He reckoned the effect was tenfold from where Krin sat.

As the lizard played, oblivious to Shiro's presence, she kept looking up to the photo and turning away as if she's struggling to maintain eye contact while blazing across the notes. Her snout bobbed up and down, her nostrils glancing towards Shiro’s photo at an infrequent pace. For a second, she looked to her fingers for quite a while. She seemed hesitant to raise her head, but as the notes ran in the air, she eventually mustered the courage and looked back up to Shiro’s photo. This time, she made the effort and kept her snout locked onto Shiro’s portrait, letting the wolf grasp a good look at her face.

Suddenly, her fingers slipped, her pinky hitting a black key that sent her melody into a low-pitched halt. The lizard was startled, raising both her hands from the piano as she frantically looked around. She stayed there, frozen for a few moments before taking a deep breath, her snout hanging down, facing her legs. She looked back up again, taking a long look at Shiro’s photo before raising her shoulder once more.

Then, as she raised her hand, she paused in an instant. Her snout glanced to the side, staring at one spot on the piano. Shiro wondered what she was looking at. He squinted his eyes and peered. He realized instantly.

The piano’s frame had a reflective surface. It wasn’t clear, but it acted somewhat like a mirror. To Krin, a scuffed image of Shiro was standing right on the piano, staring at her from behind.

Krin cranked her neck to the back, her mouth forced ajar out of total shock. Shiro too was stunned, having made himself in front of the lizard like an idiot as he stood out in the open, clear for her to see.

At that point, Shiro didn’t know what to say. In fact, he wasn’t thinking at the moment. His mind was boiling with nothing but anticipation, his eyes wide open, waiting for Krin’s next move. The ambience of the room took hold, the light humming from the fluorescent light above amplifying the uncomfortable silence shared by the wolf and the lizard.

After what seemed to be a minute or an hour, Krin stood from the chair. She looked away from Shiro, trying her best to avoid even glazing her snout towards the wolf’s general direction. Her posture was rigid as if her joints had been glued stiff, save for her hips and shoulders. She picked up the grey sling bag and turned away from the piano, leaving the wolf’s photo leaned against it as she attempted a beeline past Shiro.

Out of some unknown reflex, Shiro extended a hand and grabbed Krin’s wrist, stopping her dead in her tracks as she tried to flee.

The roles were now switched. Krin was facing the opposite direction, but there was a distinct lack of any sort of struggling on her part. Her snout faced Shiro; the physical one; as she stood there, one hand on her bag and the other in the wolf’s grasp. Her mouth was still slightly ajar, reeling from the shock that slammed her like a freight train.

Shiro stared at the lizard for a moment before looking back at the piano, watching his photo sit atop the piano, watching the two with great amusement in its eyes.

Shiro glanced back towards Krin, keeping a moment of silence before eventually speaking out.

“Y-You need any help?”