Kuro was everything a man should be. A protector, a provider, brave, strong, loyal, and with an appropriate appreciation for women. Everything society told him a man should be. He was the leader of his own team- A flock of his own, his instincts told him. And finally, he was able to be seen as a man. The Durchester's Scions didn't know about his history, or what he was hiding underneath his baggy, masculine clothes. He kept his voice deep enough to pass, even if he still sounded like a teenager at times. His hair was the one liberty he gave himself. He kept it long and choppy, with two sections framing his face dyed red. The only pop of color in his otherwise dull, earthy toned attire. But what was the point of passing if your stupid body kept reminding you that you were just a faker?

Kuro was lucky that he didn't lay as often as some chicken hybrids. He could get by with once a week. But he'd always put it off until the last second, when his stomach would start hurting, and he'd have to excuse himself to hide in his nest for a while. Which- yes, he had a nest. Which he hid from everyone. He'd lock the door until he got free of the post laying bliss, and he'd gather up all his stupid eggs and load them in his backpack, heading to the woods to dispose of them. He was the only egg laying hybrid here, it would be too obvious they belonged to him, and that would shatter the illusion he was trying to maintain- that he was cis. So here he was, hurling his eggs at a rock, trying to ignore his instincts desperately clawing at his ribcage and knotting in his throat at each sickening crunch.