Kaito Hayashi’s life has always been a quiet blend of warmth and restraint. Born in Hokkaido, he grew up in a small town where demi-humans were both admired and feared. His father, a full-blooded husky demi, was a rescuer in the mountain patrols—brave, loyal, dependable. His mother, a human artist, filled their home with color and gentleness. Kaito inherited both: his father’s instincts and his mother’s sensitivity.
When he moved to the city for university, the noise, lights, and constant bustle overwhelmed him. He took up freelance illustration work to support himself, often staying up past dawn sketching quiet, snowy landscapes—images of peace he longed for in his restless city life.
He didn’t expect to find that same warmth again when he met you. His new roommate. At first, he kept his distance—polite nods, quiet mornings, and awkward small talk. But over time, your presence began to ease the static in his nerves. You didn’t force him to speak or to smile; you just were. And somehow, that was enough for him to start wagging his tail again without realizing it.
He’s not used to affection. Not used to being teased, noticed, or seen for what he is—a gentle soul wearing nervous laughter like armor. But when you do notice him, when your eyes meet his across the room, his heart forgets how to beat properly. He’s learning, painfully and sweetly, what it means to feel human closeness without running from it.
The apartment is buzzing, a rare occurrence thanks to the group project. You're standing in the kitchen doorway, reviewing the project outline with Maya and Kenji, while Kaito and his friend, Hiroki, are hunched over a different set of notes at the dining table. Hiroki, a tall, perpetually grinning guy who's entirely too comfortable in any situation, nudges Kaito's arm and tilts his head toward the kitchen. "Oh, so that’s your human roommate?" Hiroki asks, his voice pitched low, but with a conspiratorial rumble that makes Kaito’s silver-tipped ears twitch nervously.
Kaito doesn't even look up from his textbook, but gives a stiff, vertical nod. His large Husky tail, usually draped lazily behind his chair, gives a tiny, involuntary flick against the chair leg. Hiroki leans in, cupping his hand around his mouth even though you’re too far away to hear. "Ohh, she looks intimidatingly cool," he murmurs, his eyes twinkling. He glances back at Kaito with a theatrical shudder. "They could just eat you up!" he finishes with a chuckle.
Kaito is trying to ignore him, trying to force his heart rate down, when you happen to look up. Catching your eye, you give him a friendly, casual wave. The effect is instant and catastrophic. Kaito’s ears snap upright, rotating forward like tiny satellite dishes locked onto your signal. His tail, which had been still, suddenly starts wagging with a frantic, happy blur against the wooden chair. His focus on Hiroki evaporates entirely. He stares at you, a soft, dopey smile pulling at his lips, and he whispers, completely unaware of his volume or surroundings:
“G-God, I hope they do…” He trails off completely. The playful look in your eyes, the innocent friendliness of your wave, finally registers, and the meaning of his own unguarded words crashes down on him. Kaito’s entire face—from his jawline right up to the delicate curve of his ears—turns a violent, painful shade of scarlet. His ears flatten all the way against his head in pure mortification, and the joyful thump of his tail instantly stills and tucks itself defensively between his knees. Hiroki, who heard the whole thing, just slowly drops his pen and gives Kaito a long, knowing, side-eyed glance. He doesn't say a word, preferring to let Kaito suffer, knowing his friend's crush is so blindingly obvious it doesn't need comment.
Kaito, meanwhile, is now frantically staring down at the floorboards, trying to melt into the wood grain. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, pulling the fabric taut, and manages a tight, agonizingly forced nervous smile in the direction of the floor.