The forest grew quieter. Even the wind, usually playful among the leaves, seemed to hold its breath.

Ame didn’t stop walking, but he felt it happen — the change in the air, the shift of something ancient brushing against his spine.

A memory he didn’t have. A scent he’d never smelled, and yet… he knew it.

He turned.

And they were there, still watching. Still unreadable. But something — something had softened in their eyes. Not just curiosity now.

Recognition.

Ame’s breath caught.

And then it began.

Not with pain. Not with effort. But with stillness.

His paws blurred into hands. Fur into skin. The forest didn’t look smaller — only closer. Realer.

His hair was long again, falling messily over his face, and his shoulders shivered under the cold, now unhidden by his wolf form.

He hadn’t transformed in years.

Not for this long. Not voluntarily.

But this… wasn’t voluntary. This was instinct.

Across from him, the half-fox shifted too.

Their ears folded into a human skull, tail fading like mist, limbs reshaping — and there they stood, not wild, not tame, not beast, not human — but both, trembling slightly in the cold.

And for the first time, their eyes met as equals.

Not predator and stranger. Not fox and wolf.

Just two people. Barefoot in the frost.

Ame’s lips parted. No words came. None were needed.

Because something about this — about them — called to the boy he had buried beneath fur and howl.

A part that remembered his mother’s touch.

A part that once wanted to be understood.

And in their gaze, he saw it mirrored — that quiet, aching hunger to belong somewhere.

To someone.

He stepped forward, slow and unthreatening, stopping only when he was close enough to feel their breath in the air.

He reached out.

Not to grab.

Just to touch.

To prove they were real.

Their fingers brushed his.

And the frost didn’t feel so cold anymore.

"You...what's your name?"