That damn rain finally stopped, and the sky turned an incredible shade of blue. Sunlight lifted everyone's mood in our neighborhood. The place was coming back to life, the same way I slowly did.
Thanks to the sun, or maybe my better mood, my health improved faster with each day. My lungs filled with air again, working strongly, and it felt great. I had my energy back and was ready to handle things again.
Only two days had passed since Ed showed up at my apartment. Two days since he found out everything. Two days since his fingers touched my fox ears.
God. The thought alone sent heat rushing to my face. My cheeks burned so badly that it could have been the fever again.
The next morning, after I woke from his visit, the whole thing seemed unreal. His presence in my apartment was like a hallucination brought on by the fever. Why would he come to my tiny place? Why would he care about me?
Sure, Kazuo asked him to check on me. Yet he could have made up any excuse. Work. Other plans. He could have ignored the question. What difference would it make whether I showed up at the bar or not?
Yet he came.
The smell lingering around the apartment proved it. His scent filled the air. The edge of the bed. My clothes. Me.
That definitely wasn't a dream.
It was unusual. Strange, even. After so many years of hiding who I really was, after so many years of being afraid that someone would see through me, his reaction did something I hadn't expected.
It was like a stone was lifted from my chest. That heavy stone didn't let me breathe properly, keeping me small and careful. It'd been sitting there for years, quietly deciding how much space I was allowed to take.
And suddenly, it was gone.
I could breathe.
It seemed to me that the way he reacted meant he accepted me. He really did. He accepted me the way I was. He didn't turn away in disgust. He didn't leave.
Maybe he even knew before. Knew where he was going. Knew why I hid myself.
The thought brought an incredible sense of relief. For the first time in a long while, I felt a little freer. All those things that had pushed me to stay invisible suddenly lost their grip.
It was warm and frightening at once. And I had no idea how to put it into words.
Today I pulled myself together, got dressed, and showed up at the bar earlier than usual.
Energy buzzed inside me. It pushed me to make up for my absence, show Kazuo I wasn't some burden he had to carry, show him our last conversation hadn't ruined anything, show him my illness wasn't his fault, that I wasn't avoiding him, that everything was fine.
I pushed the door open and set off that damn bell.
Kazuo looked up at me and grinned, flashing those big wolfish teeth of his.
"Well, look who finally decided to show up." He sounded teasing, but I caught the relief in his eyes. "How are you feeling?" he asked.
I slipped the disposable mask off my face and smiled. "A lot better. Really."
"Here to work, I assume," he said. "Probably think the place collapsed without you." He laughed, then waved it off. "I'm kidding. I already sorted everything. We even had to cut back on orders… fewer people lately." He snorted, not quite happy about it. "So don't worry. No heavy lifting. Go get ready."
I passed him, giving his shoulder a light tap. "If you need anything, just say the word."
"Yeah, yeah. I got it."
I went to get ready, carrying this quiet relief with me. Nothing between us had broken. The problems were still there. The questions hadn't disappeared. But for now, we were okay.
My first day back at work after the unplanned sick leave passed quietly and looked completely normal.
Looked — but wasn't.
Kazuo was right. There were fewer customers. Far fewer.
All evening, I didn't see a single hybrid. Even humans and beastfolk were showing up less. The bar was almost empty. At times, there was nothing to do at all.
Kazuo spent most of the time wandering around with nothing to do. Looks like he wasn't lying when he said he'd already finished all the work. He kept circling near me, trying to start conversations about this or that, yet none of it meant anything.
At some point, while I polished the beer tap with intense focus, he leaned against the bar.
"So," he said casually, "your fancy friend really came by, huh?"
I flushed instantly. Even with my fox mask on, my ears burned so badly that he had to notice.
"Yeah," I muttered, scrubbing harder than before. "He did."
"And he took care of you. Didn't he?" He winked.
I sighed and finally turned toward him. "You shouldn't have done that. But… thank you. For sending him."
"So it went well," he said, crossing his arms. "That's what I'm hearing."
"There's nothing to tell," I said quickly. "He brought medicine. Helped with the fever. That's it."
"And that's really it?" Kazuo smirked.
"Yes," I said, still turning red. "That's really it."
Kazuo studied me in silence for a moment. Then he spoke more seriously. "You know, I don't like that guy."
I tensed up a little.
"But," he continued, "if he makes you happy, if you feel safe with him, I can live with that. I can even support it." He tilted his head. "You're not upset with me for saying that, right?"
"Sorry, Kazuo. You're important to me. But I don't exactly base all my life choices on your approval." I said, smiling.
"Oh?" he laughed. "Is that so?" Then his tone softened. "Still, I'm glad it didn't end badly. I was worried. Thought maybe I'd overstepped by sending him."
"No," I said quickly. "It was okay. Really."
I needed to change the subject. "So… how were things here while I was gone?"
He sighed and glanced around the room. "Like I said. Fewer customers. You can see it yourself." He paused. "As for the idiots who were threatening us… oddly quiet."
That surprised me. "You think they forgot about us?"
"Hard to tell," he said flatly.
I watched his face. He sounded light, joking even, but his expression was serious.
"I hope they forgot," I said.
Kazuo tapped his fingers against the bar. "Hope," he muttered. "Funny thing, hope." He sighed, straightened up. "Alright. Time to find something to do. These lazy days will turn me into a useless slacker." Then he disappeared into the back room.