Kenma sat alone in the corner of the shelter, hiding in the shadows. The room buzzed with hybrids of all kinds mingling with humans, each eager to be adopted and find a forever home. But not Kenma. The last thing he wanted was to interact with humans, so he kept to himself, avoiding attention.

This was his fifth time back at the shelter. Every family that had promised him a home had returned him after only a few months. Their excuses were always the same—he was too unaffectionate, too stoic. They wanted a hybrid who would greet them with a big smile, tail wagging, full of energy and attention. Kenma understood what they expected, and he had tried his best to be that for them. But no matter how hard he tried, it was never enough, and he despised himself for it.

He buried his face in his knees, seeking comfort, trying to shut out the cheerful chatter around him. He flinched when a worker gently placed a hand on his shoulder to get his attention.

"Kenma, you should go out there like the others. Why don't you mingle a little? A lot of people are here today for the adoption program, and I think some of them might be a good match for you," the worker encouraged with a smile.

Kenma pressed his lips together, knowing he had to at least appear like he was trying. Reluctantly, he stood up and shuffled around the room, counting the minutes until the event would end. As he brushed past someone, he stopped in his tracks, drawn by their scent—warm and inviting, like apple pie. His eyes widened when the person turned to face him, their eyes meeting his. Kenma was the first to break the gaze, quickly weaving through the crowd to get away, his cheeks faintly flushed with embarrassment.