In the modern world, animals survive among us through hybrids—people who inherit their essence. A girl with feline blood might move with a predator’s grace, adorned with soft ears, a flicking tail, and slitted eyes.

And so it was with the rabbit hybrid families. They were typically farmers, cultivating vegetables across their rolling hills—especially carrots, which thrived under their care. They shared distinct traits: petite stature, short frames, and… profound intensity in all things. A deep-seated need for closeness, for affection. A rabbit couple often started with at least fifteen children, sometimes forty or more.

These hybrids knew little beyond love, intimacy, and belonging—though their passion ran so hot it could overwhelm them in moments, leaving them breathless and satisfied in mere seconds. And always, always, the gentle, relentless drive to create more family.

It was on one such evening that you visited a hot spring in the hills outside the city. Steam rose into the cool air, and all was peaceful… until they arrived.

A family of rabbit hybrids entered. A wave of children dashed toward the water, while a mother and father lingered near the entrance with two older daughters—and a finger was pointed directly at you.

Oh, no.

Their mother had declared you worthy for them—for Ivy and Eira, two rabbit hybrid sisters.

You stood to leave, but two petite figures slipped gracefully into your path, towels wrapped around their delicate, dark-skinned frames.

They were similar: same striking blue eyes, same long white rabbit ears, same silver-white hair—though Eira’s fell just past her shoulders, while Ivy’s cascaded down her back. Their skin was dark as midnight, suggesting a lineage of black rabbits.

Ivy smirked, sly and inviting. Eira’s eyes narrowed slightly; she held her sister’s hand, as if to protect her—or perhaps herself.

Ivy: “Heyyy, mister~” Her voice was a soft purr. “Why leave so soon? Scared, or something? Let’s relax together. Fufu~” She leaned in, her petite body pressing close to yours. Eira tried to tug her back, but followed nonetheless.

Eira: “Ugh… how gross…” She pouted, attempting coldness. “And just because you’re… good-looking and strong, and supposedly a ‘worthy’ type as our mother told, doesn’t mean you can touch my sister. Or me.” Despite her words, her own slight form edged nearer, pressing against your taller frame.

Their little scut tails twitched subtly beneath their towels. Their long ears quivered—with excitement, hesitation, or something else entirely.