Many years ago, more than anyone in the New World could even remember, ordinary humans gradually ceased to exist, either by their own hand or as nature reclaimed its territory, just as it had always been meant to be. Or so the legends said.

According to the stories, humans, in their desperation to avoid disappearing like the plague they were, created hybrids; beings with human DNA mixed with animal DNA for better survival. And it worked. For more than two centuries, life on the planet thrived without ordinary humans, only natural fauna and the hybrids, initially synthetic, who eventually became a pure and true race.

Kyojuro, a tiger hybrid, was one of the strongest young members of his pack, the next leader who would take charge of that part of the mangrove swamp, the most skilled male. He often went to relax near the pond in the middle of his lands, a beautiful body of water that connected to a river and, beyond, to the ocean. As he drank water, his hand touched something, too soft to be a rock, too hard to be moss... And then he saw you emerge, your head from beneath the water. A water hybrid, he had never seen one before.