Rormund Academy is no normal Academy, as one could easily tell from sight alone. If you ignore it's glaring exclusivity towards the rich and privileged, you can also notice that it deviates quite a lot from the traditional sense of education. For one, instead of having classes, the lessons are conducted akin to colleges. There would be a lecture hall available for every subject, and the same lesson will be conducted on a weekly basis before switching to a new topic. There isn't a fixed timetable - students can freely choose to enter whichever class they feel like. They could even retake the same lessons at the same day if they wish to do so
But of course, for this much freedom comes a price. Providing such flexible independence and cutting-edge education, Rormund Academy only requests one simple condition as a return - perfect excellence. Every year, Rormund Academy will conduct two examinations, with the latter one being the definitive one, and any student failing to meet a passing grade for that examination will be forced to redo a year. Incidentally, if the students fail to pass twice, they get expelled.
There isn't any reward for being the best; mostly because, given the privilege to receive such top-tier education in such a well-established institution, it is to be expected. Aside from a mere passing mention of the top five achievers, the Academy gives no care to those who succeed as it is, after all, expected.
To normal students, it's a deterrent of mediocrity. It's a roundabout way of saying 'Failure isn't an option 'round these parts'. It's also another roundabout way of saying 'Success is the norm for us'. It may seem like a heavy psychological toll on teens only fresh in their sweet sixteen, but it also takes one of the greatest fear present among children of that age - the fear of being left out. The age-old worry about chasing trends is no longer a worry; since everyone is so rich and privileged anyone can get the latest fashion or gadgets in a snap of their fingers. The Academy presents a new trend for the students to chase; one that requires true, actual effort by the students themselves to achieve - academic success.
On paper this may sound ridiculous and quite frankly, patronizing. It sounds like the Academy simply dumbing down the incentive of doing well in school. But think about it individualistically; if you were the only one in class to fail your Algebra and the only one to receive punishment while the others watch, you’d work hard to break free of the humiliation and reach your peers soon enough. By presenting an empty road ahead and a deadly moat behind, the students would have no choice but to push forward. Added to the mysterious, enigmatic yet legendary reputation of Rormund Academy (so mysterious that commoners haven’t even heard of the name), it’s a simple yet efficient tactic. In fact, people know more about the ones that failed than the ones that excelled, so that, in and of itself, is an deterrent strong enough to make even the most laziest of student bat an eye in concern.
After having heard all of that, coupled with Miss Secretary’s no-joke, all-serious tone, Shiro wasn't so sure that he'd make it through the semester, much less his school life. His academics weren't pretty to begin with; his last Mathematics paper was lower than his own age. He guessed he could rely on sports, but that wasn't any consolation, as the Academy not only enrolls the richest and the smartest but the strongest and most athletic of them all. Chances of Shiro making through one year were already chained up and tossed inside an Iron Maiden.
He felt his new life in the city ended right there right then as he recounted Miss Secretary's words.
Standing under the lion's fierce battle with his shadow on the ceiling mural, he glanced towards the 'temporary visa' hanging over his neck from a lanyard. It was a sort-of 'entrance pass' for Shiro until Miss Secretary could finish his 'legitimate student pass'. Until then, he will be holding on to the little card dangling on his chest and, as per Miss Secretary's words, 'be responsible as to keep it on him at all times'. He held it in his palm, fearing it'll be the last thing he'd ever hold in this Academy; possibly his school life.
According to Miss Secretary, Shiro was held back a year, due to his past academic performance not meeting the bar, even in his old school's standards. Thus, he was a Third-Year Junior, and not the First-Year Senior his age should warrant him to be. To make matters worse, it's counted as a strike in the Academy itself, leaving Shiro dangling off his final lifeline.
Heaving a sigh, he took a left towards the Junior block of the building. Evidently, the students have been released from the auditorium to resume their daily routine in the Academy. With the addition of the crowd, Shiro finally saw the 'school' within Rormund Academy.
At that moment, Shiro had already ran into a multitude of problems. He didn't have his school briefcase, for one. It was his staple, and had been accompanying him in his schooling days ever since kindergarten. It's a black flap-over that carried his essentials for every occasion. He wouldn't be caught dead in school without carrying one, save for that moment. For all he knew, he could’ve had the briefcase since birth, for he had been holding it since his first day in kindergarten and who knew how long back then. It may be the first thing his tiny cub hands ever grasped besides his parents' fingers. He'd lost it at the auditorium, when the whole pandemonium happened. He didn't even know where he left it. Without the little bag fitted under his shoulders, he just couldn't feel free with himself. But that was a simple, easily ignorable issue compared to the next.
As stated, the Academy's infrastructure differs much from most traditional schools. The classes he once knew became this free-for-all lectures, which meant teachers were relegated to just be lecturers, and that there's no such things as classmates. Only students. Thus, he was left alone and vulnerable with nothing but his own self to understand the goings and fight against the social norm. He may be a 'transfer student', he felt more like a 'stranger'. An 'outsider'. An 'alien'. Which meant the peaceful, innocent “new student” routine he had so mesmerizingly admired was a moot dream from the start. Being the commoner he is among the intellectual and financial elites of the world, no one saw him fit of inheriting the title of "Rormund Academy's first transfer student", which meant his chances of ever reaching the scenario was as hopeful as catching a star.
Unprepared and thrust into the unknown with an infamous reputation to boot, Shiro was looking at everything besides a good start. There were many words to describe the looks he was getting from the students roaming the corridors; 'friendly' wasn't one of them. Glares, scowls, frowns; you name it, he got it. They were shooting him the dirtiest of looks. Some harbored malicious intent. There was even a passing bald eagle who openly gagged in front of him as he passed. Nobody pulled a physical prank on Shiro, for nobody would risk getting caught dead near him. That was fine, in some way less than others.
But it wasn't long before Shiro started feeling vulnerable and exposed. He was doused in a social spotlight. The invisible barrier the crowd made became devastatingly clear to others, and he was basically walking with a cage around him, open for people to watch and gawk and jeer at. Tired of the stares, he made a beeline through the first double-door he saw.
His first class in Rormund Academy was Physics, and it was already underway. An impala in a lab coat was explaining something about bowling balls, feathers and air resistance on a projector screen. The hall itself was sparsely filled with students. Many were sitting in groups, others alone to themselves. Nobody seemed to notice Shiro's entrance, and he intended to keep it that way. He picked a seat that had his back facing the wall, overlooking the room.
The whole room had a pitched floor, with tiered seating that descended all the way to the middle. He shuffled awkwardly across the back and sat himself down, looking down on everyone from the top. The lecturer's tamed voice filled the silent hall with teaching, occasionally interjected with the light scratches and shuffles of pens making notes on paper.
Shiro didn't know what to do, but it was certainly better than being back at the hallway. He kept himself low and quiet and twiddled with his thumbs as he watched the impala clicked to another slide showing a bowling ball, a feather, and signs and symbols and numbers and equations he couldn't comprehend. He felt like a sore thumb, sticking out as the only one without a piece of paper, taking notes. He could only keep his head down and pretend he was busy and every once in a while, steal a glance to see the screen and try to at least understand a single word spouting from the impala.
"We all know that famous experiment with the bowling ball and the feather,” the impala said, “Utilizing a vacuum with zero presence of air, a group of researchers dropped a feather and a bowling ball from the same height. To the surprise of nobody, they dropped at the same rate and touched the floor at the same time. So why didn’t that surprise anyone? Simple; they were researchers, and they knew what to expect. But unfortunately, you’re not researchers; yet, anyway. You’re students, and it is my job to elevate you from that form.
“Why does the feather and the bowling ball drop at the same speed in that vacuum but not in real life? Simple; we have air. Today’s topic is air resistance, and how it works, how to put numbers to it and how it keeps us alive.
“If you drop a feather and a bowling ball from the same distance anywhere on Earth, they will fall at different rates. The feather will drift breezily to the ground while the bowling ball plunks downward immediately. Why? Simple; air resistance. Since the feather is so light, air pressure acting on it from all directions is strong enough to counteract the force of gravity, which acts on it uniformly regardless of its weight.
“While we’re on the topic of air resistance, I would also like to introduce another kind of resistance, which can combat fatigue. One of the best ways to do so is through the resistance of shame. If you put enough social stress onto a person; for example exposure, you could prevent the person from ever falling for his own tiredness. I would like to demonstrate my theory by welcoming our first ever transfer student - Shiro, who successfully stayed awake for a whooping thirty-eight seconds of my class before falling face first on the table, fast asleep.”
Shiro, whose face was suspended over his short snout standing on the table, was shot awake immediately as soon as his ears caught his name. Some drops of slobber flew onto his face and dripped down the table he laid on. Immediately, Shiro flashed into a deep shade of embarrassment. It was hardly visible through his black fur but his folding ears and drooping tail told the story. Every pair of eyes; reptilian and mammalian, were fixated on the poor wolf.
With a low growl, he muttered, “I-I’m sorry.”
“You better well be. Move to the side while you’re at it. Your ears were blocking the projector during your untimely nap. Now, about the bowling ball-”
----------------------------------------
If the glares and scowls weren’t enough, Shiro was subjected to a new type of ridicule - sneers. There was nothing more amusing than watching a wolf with low societal standing get pelted by an authoritative figure. At least that was the case for the rich folks. Left and right, front and back; there wasn’t one that hasn’t got a cheeky curl on their faces. None even bothered to even hide it. Much worse, Shiro was taller than average. His head stuck out among the crowd, which meant he was a walking, sticking bulls-eye target for ridicule. Just find the sad wolf sticking out of the sea of heads and chuck him your best snicker.
It wasn’t long till the group broke away, leaving Shiro stranded, alone on the corridors once again, with nothing but the lanyard and the ‘temporary visa’ dangling on his neck keeping him company. The sniggers were gone, and back were the scowls, and that invisible cage he began getting used to.
At this point Shiro had grown accustomed to the situation. It was sudden, as if the unease was simply picked by the wind and whisked away into the sky. The moment the smugs left his view and introduced the disdainful looks, he just felt nothing. It scared even himself how fast he became indifferent to the prejudice. It scared him even more on how he simply conformed to the norm that this would be the perpetual state of his school life. He willed himself to spare at least a pinch of irritation for his unjust, but his mind simply answered in stone coldness. He gave up halfway, and simply went with the flow, desensitized towards the whole misery of it all.
It was a decision made not out of desolate hopelessness but rather out of optimistic acceptance. Rather than fighting the current, he ran with the course. He figured it could’ve been worse, and if people wanted him to stay away, he’d do just that, lest he wished for trouble he never desired.
Soon, the glares slid off his shoulders, and brushed off his feet like air. The prickling sensation from the scorns merged with his nerves, and numbed itself to nothing. It didn’t even move him, much less affect him. He adapted, and was never troubled by it again.
He didn’t expect things to be like this, though. As he walked, he thought of the TV shows he’d sometimes catch glances of his father watching back then in his old town. He remembered one scene well. It was spring then, and also a prime time for wolves to shed. Though him and his father have short fur, they have a lot of it. They would gather around the house, filling the floor with uncomfortable brushes until their feet got sick of it, and called for a good reason to break out the old vacuum cleaner. The scene came on as Shiro was battling with the sofa in the living room. The title card rolled in and caught child Shiro’s attention. The vacuum cleaner was released from his hand and left choking on the sofa while he watched with piquing interest, hypnotized by the screen.
The show was about this kid from the farm who got sent to live in the city. The scene showed a montage of the village kid moving into the concrete jungle, and stepping into a proper school for the first time. The teacher introduced the kid to the whole class, and soon enough the kid saw herself surrounded by her new classmates, popping in like gophers, spouting questions about her life in the village. It was a forgettable show that went no further than three episodes due to the boring premise but mainly because the director was found sleeping with one woman too many and the news spread one busybody too many. The show was gone but that scene stuck with Shiro for a long time; for it was also the time his father had to get a new vacuum cleaner but it was mainly due to the scene itself.
The moment stayed with Shiro all the way until the day he got into his mother’s car, where the scene burst back into Shiro’s mind with so much intensity he could almost feel it as if it’s reality. He was that village kid, and now he gets to sit in a new classroom, surrounded by new classmates with burning curiosity and probing questions about his life in the foreign lands, fascinated and interested as Shiro blows his horns and tells his tall tales, much to his pleasure.
He didn’t expect the village kid to feel this lonesome.
Then it all changed a moment after, just as the scene whizzed across his head with dispiriting nostalgia. His eyes were darting across the corridor, jumping from one contemptuous look to the next. His eyes then landed on a pride of lionesses, strutting along the opposite side. He glanced towards the alpha, who was a rather attractive feline with smooth, gold fur gleaming under her sailor uniform, accompanied by a black skirt that seemed half an inch too dangerously short for its own good. Her eyes were plain, yet strikingly brown, and they met with Shiro’s.
In a record breaking second, her sightly, queen-like feminine expression warped and shifted to one of disdain and disgust, as if she’d just laid eyes on a toad, or as if he had spit on her shiny, black leather shoes. Shiro gave it no more than a furtive notice and was about to drift his gaze away when, in another record-breaking second, the lioness’s expression changed; not once, but twice.
Her first expression jumped from revulsion to glee, much to Shiro’s surprise. Her crossed, brown eyes lit up in amazement, shining with joy. Her packmates behind, as if on cue, made similar faces, all beaming with delight and unprecedented jubilation. Then came her second expression, which crashed hard. It was difficult to describe the face she made, but if Shiro was given the choice of two words, it’ll be ‘confused’ and ‘shocked’. She seemed bewildered, as if she was witnessing a freak of nature.
Shiro was probably making the same expression, seeing as his presence had invoked such contrasting reactions in such a short time. That's when he felt a tap on his shoulder.
“I believe this is yours,” a soft, calming voice called to his ear from behind.
He turned to his back, only to be greeted by a glowing, toxic green that filled his sight with no borders. For that one moment, his breath was wrangled by fascination, as the green tripped something foreign and primitive in his head. In that split second, he was entranced by the green, unable to move for even a fraction. He was held by the sight of it, not even questioning the green, or whence it came from or how it popped up behind him.
Then he saw a yellow tail, springing just behind the green. It had a black tip, and was splotched with same-coloured dots. It moved with much vigor, lashing out with graceful charm. The swishing tail shattered the spell, breaking Shiro away from the venomous green. He instinctively stepped back, and saw the source of the green.
A leopard.
A leopard that stood half a head shorter than Shiro was peeping from behind, staring at him with toxic green eyes that were so unbelievably dazzling and vivid they seemed to be glowing from its sockets, almost steaming out of pure intensity and pressure. The leopard had a stout body that seemed sturdier the longer you looked at it. He also wore the standard uniform as everyone else, with the exception of a white undershirt, showing through his unbuttoned jacket.
Shiro thought ‘he’, because the uniform was all the clue he gotten from the issue. If the leopard had wore anything else, he would’ve fried his head making guesses all day.
The leopard had an androgynous look that would fool just about anyone. If you thought of him as a woman, you’d begin seeing lines on his feline face stating otherwise. If you thought of him as, well, a ‘him’, you’d begin doubting yourself as the leopard’s alluring eyes, attractive bearing and undeniably feminine aura suspending over his presence slowly pulls you further and further away from the truth.
If Shiro’s uncertainty did show, the leopard never mentioned it. Without a second word, the leopard pulled out something from under his shoulders and brought it up to Shiro with a magnetic smile on his face. Shiro couldn't believe what he saw.
His briefcase, held under the leopard’s grasp, was safe and sound in one piece. Shiro held his breath as he got handed back his long-lived belonging he so desperately missed moments ago. He threw open the flap and checked its contents. There they were - a little, tattered leather notebook, a Zip-Loc plastic baggie containing his stationery, and half a bottle of mineral water. He couldn’t imagine what he could do without them.
He quickly slid the flap-over briefcase under his shoulders. “T-thanks,” was all he could say at the moment.
The leopard flashed an appreciative grin, “It’s nothing. You’re welcome-”
And right before the leopard could finish, the lioness from before pounced, quite literally, onto his shoulder. Shiro was surprised, and was taken aback. The confusing expression on her face changed again, returning to the gleeful smile she had as she glomped onto the leopard.
“Leo! I thought you’re in the gym! You don’t usually come out for classes,” said the lioness as she threw her arms around his neck. She had an unexpectedly low growl for her appearance. It hadn’t reached as deep as Shiro’s but it still startled Shiro when he heard it.
The leopard, or Leo, looked neither stunned nor agitated. “Fancy seeing you here, Deliah," he said with the retaining smile.
He turned his head to his back and waved, with his one free hand, towards the group behind him, “Hello there, girls.”
Flirtatious giggling and fluttering eyes arose from the lionesses as Leo’s little act turned them into little red-flushed kittens. They all blushed and hid their cheeks behind their books, watching from afar, waving back with their delicate fingertips, exchanging their best smiles at him.
Deliah however, was much braver and bolder than her followers in her form of greeting. Shiro isn’t well-versed in traditions, but he was certain that in no-point in history did there existed a form of feline welcome that involved a female clambering onto a male while her thigh-high skirt rides dangerously up her legs with very obvious and specific intents. The lioness, displaying anything but a hint of self-awareness, had her knees all the way up to Leo’s hips and her snout nuzzling against his ears, breathing soft pants into them. Her hands played with his chest, drawing small circles as she traced it all across his body.
If Leo was in any way affected by Deliah’s fearless display of her welcome, he didn’t show. Calmly, he spoke without wavering, “I had to sharpen my books. I can’t risk another final.”
Then, as if cast under a magic spell, Deliah’s brown eyes lit up like a lamp; one that had every intention but being bright. “Say,” Deliah whispered against his ear, “You just came from Physics, right? I just so happened to ace my last pop quiz with the girls in the same class last week. Why don't we hit the library? Right now? I could get us a Private Study and give you a booster; I’m sure the girls would be very happy to help out.”
In an actual freak of nature, coupled with Deliah’s highly suggestive invitation to the library and Leo’s already confusingly alluring deposition, Shiro was finally rid of the passing glares and scorns of the corridor. They were all now directed at the audacious duo that were conducting very intimate contact right smack in the middle of the hallway. They nervously glanced at them both with very mixed and chaotic feelings, thinking wordless thoughts that will forever stay in their heads as such; “wordless” and as “thoughts”.
Leo, however, as the man in the action himself, was unmoved. He was as still and as peaceful as an undisturbed trunk, sitting in the middle of the virgin forest. Even among the chaos, his green eyes, though not devoid of life, seemed strangely indifferent to all of this; including the lioness straddling against his shoulder. They looked disinterested, as if this was all just an everyday, mundane routine. They remained as calm as a flat, green ocean, void of breeze, without a stir, as if they were bored of it all.
Leo’s nonchalance did not reach Shiro however, as he was increasingly alienated and cast aside. The wolf felt an invisible but very solid barrier pushing against his presence and growing ever stronger the longer he stood there. It came to the point where he could feel a bubble expanding against his snout, and that taking another step forward would vaporize him out of sheer emotional pressure and wipe him out of existence. He was stuck on the spot, rooted and unsure of what to do.
Then his decision was made when Deliah’s uniform began creasing upwards from her hips, revealing her breast rising into a swelling curve on her chest.
Shiro immediately excused himself before he could start his own ‘swelling’.
“I-I’mma just-” Shiro backed off as quick as he could excuse himself to be, swiftly turning away, aiming to run off with his briefcase and his dignity before all gets mighty worse.
“Hold on,” Leo called from behind. Shiro tried his absolute best to pretend his perking ears hadn’t heard that, but his attempt was rendered moot when the leopard grabbed him on the shoulder with an astonishingly firm grip. They grabbed into Shiro, gripping in so tight that they were digging into his bones, holding him by the blade. He tried to rip himself away, but not even a crowbar could compete with Leo’s finger strength. He thought twice to fight with it, fearing it'll tear his whole arm away.
“L-Leo?” Deliah had a perplexing, almost hurtful tone in her voice.
“I’m sorry Deliah but I promised Shiro to take him around the Academy just when we’re in Physics class,” Leo lied through the sweetest smile Shiro bore to witness in his whole life, “He’s a new student after all, one that’s very unfamiliar to the place and needs at least a whole day of guidance. How about next time? I’m sure Private Study can always be booked for another date.”
Shiro wanted to protest, but Shiro knew internally that his vocal objection was no match with Leo’s crushing hold on his shoulder, which was about to be in pieces if Leo decided to hold on much longer.
“You have to spend a whole day with that…… wolf?”
A myriad of twitches pulsated across Deliah’s face during the pause in that sentence, hinting to a probable flood of hurtful vulgarities she wouldn’t bring herself to say in front of Leo. Shiro had no doubt that swallowing each of those words were painful to her, much to his chagrin, and thankfulness that he didn’t need another slew of unwarranted insults hurled at him. He had much of his share just this morning in the auditorium and felt quite full already.
“I don’t have to, Deliah, but I want to. He’s just a helpless puppy, don’t you think?”
Every fibre of Deliah’s being considered otherwise, but whatever made her invited Leo to the library, too made her swallow every word of protest she had to say.
“I guess so,” the lioness spoke through her sharp, gritted teeth hidden behind a pitiful smile. Leo may not have noticed, but in that instant, Deliah flashed a dangerous glare towards Shiro that made him feel right at home once more. Among many things silently conveyed in that one instant, ‘jealousy’ was one of them. Shiro spotted a hint of green envy in her gaze, which shook Shiro a lot. He wasn’t a threat to whatever endeavor Deliah had planned for Leo, but if even simply keeping the leopard occupied and away from her could elicit such a response, Shiro started to wonder if he’d dug himself into an early grave.
Plus, he speculated that a guy like Leo would have more than one 'Deliah' in the whole Academy.
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Deliah reluctantly released the leopard from her embraced and sulked back to her friends, flashing scorns at Shiro as she went. Her packmates followed suit, not that it did any more.
Leo waited until Deliah was well out of earshot before he blew a deep breath. He glanced towards Shiro and flashed a sheepish grin and a shrug. Shiro didn’t know what else to do but to return with a feeble smile and a tired nod of his own. Then, before things could go further, Shiro made a mad down the corridor.
"Wait a second," Leo called from behind once again. This time Shiro learned better to pretend. He skipped three steps in advance, escaping the leopard's nightmarish palm before it could descend upon his shoulder. He skipped as fast as his hind legs could propel him forward.
But he wasn’t fast enough, for the leopard was a close cousin of the cheetah, and shared a few too many genes for Shiro’s favour.
He wasn’t even a few meters away when he felt the Devil’s Palm slam onto his shoulder with the might of a falling boulder. He felt the weight crash onto his knees in an instant, pulling him to a sudden halt. He tried to shove the hand away, but all he really managed was nudge his body slightly. His shoulder blade was once again under the captivity of Leo's fingers.
He felt Leo’s presence looming closer from behind. The cogs in his head began churning. He needed to get away from any potential trouble, especially this one.
Leo pulled Shiro to his a side. “I haven’t said thanks ye-”
“I’ll pay you.”
The moment Shiro desperately blurted the words, everything fell silent. Leo's smile remained, but his green eyes swirled in confusion, wondering what he just heard.
“What?”
“I’ll pay you for the briefcase, if that’s what you want.”
Shiro held his breath for crucial seconds as he said those words, hoping the shock would loosen Leo's fingers. He didn't even care about whatever gets muttered out of Leo's mouth after that, as long as he lets off his grip. He solely focused on waiting for that moment to happen, ready to make as many empty promises he could to take him there.
Leo's eyes remained clueless for a moment before flashing a glint of realization and falling to a gaze that seemed quite hurt.
“What kind of a person do you think I am?”
Shiro couldn’t answer. Even if he knew how to, he wouldn’t. He kept his mouth shut as he waited on that one moment Leo looses his demonic grip on his shoulder. But that moment never came, as Leo slowly walked up to his side, the smile still imprinted between his cheeks, his fingers still very firmly rooted to his body.
"Forget it, you couldn't possibly pay me anything I want anyway. Plus-" Leo yanked Shiro close to his face, choking his ruby red eyes with his thick, toxic green pupils.
"-I've got my payment already."
Then Leo let go. Strangely enough, Shiro didn't immediately bolt for it. When Leo pulled him close to his eyes he wasn't listening. His mind was running a series of quick calculations and came to the conclusion that running away was futile. They'll just repeat the whole ordeal one more time.
So he gave up on escaping, but that didn't mean he lost the intent of ridding himself from the leopard.
The both shared a silence not a moment too soon nor a moment too unbearable. Shiro caught his breath during the time, while Leo smoothed out his uniform.
He extended a hand to Shiro, with a friendly smile that was hard to refuse. His palm seemed sturdy, but had a sort of tenderness to its shape that fitted his slender, lady-like fingers. "Leo," he self-introduced.
Shiro wasn't so sure about the hand. Though he got (reluctantly) acquainted with Leo's presence it didn't nullify the peculiar, feminine side of his appearance. He was attractive, but to Shiro, for all the wrong reasons. A little tingly instinct in his head warned him that shaking the leopard's hand would open up a whole new world Shiro wouldn't be too inclined to venture through.
Then he felt the solid glares from behind, brushing his back like daggers and knives. They were all oozing with emotion, ranging from envy to wrath, as if they were jealous and offended that such an atrocity of nature got given a chance to shake Leo's hand and the said lowly form of life actually possessed the audacity to even consider second thoughts about it. They were the ones that made the decision for Shiro.
Fearing from a public display of vengeance, Shiro took a deep breath of defeat and gave in. "I know," he said as he returned the gesture.
"Likewise, Shiro," said Leo, grinning wide and victoriously. “So, where shall I take you?”
The words tripped flags in Shiro’s head, each of them redder than the next, flashing their colours like whining alarms.
“I thought you were joking.” An air of desperation leaked from Shiro’s voice.
“I was dead serious,” said Leo with a serious smile, “I didn’t just say that to get away from Deliah. I really wanted to help you."
Shiro started feeling panicky. His mind ran hard as it wrung itself to find excuses to get away from Leo. “W-why didn’t you go with her? I'm okay myself.”
Leo brought up two fingers, “Two reasons. One, I could go with her anytime I like; two, I just didn’t feel like it.”
Then, as Leo said his words, Shiro found a little crevice. It shone like a little sliver of light in a dark, musty dungeon. It wasn’t big enough to squirm his way out but if he’d just dig hard enough…
“So why help me,” he quickly asked.
That set Leo thinking. His mouth was left ajar, then he retracted his two fingers and rested his head on them, deep in thought. The leopards sank to his shoulders, turning the wheels in his head, his ears twitching while he thought. Five seconds came and went before he lit up and brought up two other fingers.
“Two reasons,” he said, “One, I just felt like it, and two-”
Leo paused his words suddenly. He went up to Shiro’s face an inch too close to his liking, jabbed him in the snout with his finger and proclaimed, “-I like your eyes.”
Shiro shuddered from that open, blatant statement. Goosebumps rode all across his body instantaneously. What’s worse was that somewhere deep down his primitive mind, he actually took it as a feel-good compliment. He had to remind himself that under the attractive, feminine feline appearance is a boy with boy features and boy attributes and boy characteristic which he could just as easily find on Leo and on himself. It wasn’t creepy, Shiro wouldn’t go as far as to call it that; but hell if it didn’t catch him off guard.
“Plus,” Leo whisked away with a light push, “you haven’t been taken around, right?”
The crevice from before exploded all of the sudden. Rubble shattered all across the dungeon as light spilled in like a biblical flood. Standing amidst the chaos, beaming like radiant sunlight, a chance descended from the great heavens, promising great salvation within the warmth of its angelic wings.
“I did,” he quickly blurted out, “Miss Secretary filled me in already.”
Leo’s ears perked up in interest, “‘Miss’ Secretary?”
Shiro nodded enthusiastically.
For some reason, Leo began letting out a bemused smirk, holding in snorts of laughter, struggling to keep the composure on his feet. He managed to regain himself before speaking again, “So, ‘Miss’ Secretary, the personal assistant of the Student council President, did a personal tour for you before the classes start?”
“Yes,” Shiro was ready to take off in that instant, “I don’t need-”
“I see. That's a privilege, isn't it."
"Yes, yes," Shiro was getting impatient, "So I can go now, ri-"
"Did she care to mention that the Math Class is always full and packed in the morning?”
Shiro was suddenly stunned, “She-”
“Did she inform you that the track field is reserved for the seniors every Sunday for formal training?”
“Uh-”
“Did she even tell you where the cafeteria is and how the seating is arranged or when is the best time to get a table?”
Shiro watched with a gaping mouth as the angel before was mauled and mutilated by showers of machine gun fire bursting from behind. Scraps of feathers and chunks of meat and gallons of blood spilled and splattered and showered before the despaired wolf watching his one and only chance get obliterated in his very eyes.
And the one arming the turret was none other than a cheeky, clingy leopard with a radiant grin splitting ear to ear, as if basking in the glory of the wolf’s perpetual imprisonment.
Shiro was left in total defeat as he clambered over his head in search for words and excuses. His mind was barren. He opened his mouth, left it ajar, closed it and repeated the process as Leo’s grin grew wider and wider.
“See, so you do need my help,” Leo said with yet another victorious smirk, this time looking more and more like a smug Shiro would personally help wipe off his face if it wasn’t for the people looking. Now that he thought about it was probably Leo’s unique deposition that got him where he is today, as evident as in front of Shiro’s eyes. He probably got into situations like these and walked away unscathed because people couldn’t bring themselves to mess up the grinning face in front of them, for one reason or another.
Shiro was still in denial. He still held the torn angel in his arms, hoping he’ll still get even a shred of hope or salvation from this inescapable entrapment among its tattered, splattered pieces.
“Oh, don’t be so glum,” Leo cheekily whispered to his face as he patted his head between his ears, “see it as that payment you so wanted to give. In exchange for bringing your briefcase, I want you to let me take you around. Hm?”
With that, Shiro was officially cornered and done for. He was a Feral pig in a slaughterhouse, and social norm was the butcher. He had no options left but to accept, because to refuse would make him more than an undesirable than he already is. Plus, the eavesdropping, green-eyed passer-bys in the corridor would be more than elated to physically prove that point if he ever said ‘no’. They were already brimming with hatred from the start, so Shiro wouldn’t expect mercy from anyone anyway.
Done, defeated and deflated, Shiro sighed in defeat, “Okay.”
“In one condition, though,” Leo added.
Oh, what the hell now? Shiro thought.
Leo spoke with a smile, “You have to go at my pace.”
Shiro felt like refusing, just for the hell of it. But it was a tiny request for ease of assistance, and to refute would turn him from an undesirable to a total jackass, and the passer-bys are raring to go already. He gave up on the idea. He didn’t feel like sparing another breath against the leopard. It's been proven futile countless times in a short duration.
He tried to look on the bright side, at least he could have company. And if he’s lucky enough, people would notice the cute leopard walking and miraculously miss the big ugly monster walking alongside him.
It’s not too bad, he thought to himself.
Then, to further prove his point, Leo suddenly grabbed Shiro by his far elbow and pulled him close to his side, close enough that they were touching shoulders. Shiro got taken by surprised and leaked out a canine yelp. In that instant, the world stopped turning. The clouds stopped moving and the air turned solid. Everyone stopped and looked, only to see their beloved Leo holding that dastardly wolf by his side, unsure whether to stare in envy or start crying blood.
Leo, who seemed not to have noticed any of this, mouthed silently to Shiro.
On my pace.
As Leo silently voiced to him, Shiro caught a waft of his body odor. A familiar, pungent smell of a feline body drifted up into his sensitive, canine nose, subconsciously making a mental lockbox of Leo’s scent. The scent dragged Shiro’s eyes down to the source, where both eyes met.
The face was closer than Shiro ever needed it to be. His facial lines were carved into his memory, engraved with exquisite detail. His green, intoxicating eyes roused Shiro’s senses, drowning out his smooth, yellow-spotted complexion, filling his mental silhouette in Shiro’s head with nothing but an alluring, radiating emerald green. His gentle, kindly appearance had just enough contrasting furrows to take it to a degree of uncanniness, as if there was a hidden layer just beneath the charming face, exuding an air of mystery right at the tip of his white, drooping whiskers.
From up close, there was no denying his feminal side of his appearance. His well-rounded nose, groomed whiskers and hypnotizing gaze, coupled with his voice, only upped the illusion by bounds, bringing it a little too close to reality. He was nothing short of a charmer, Shiro unconsciously admitted.
Then his gaze sank down to his body. As he looked down, Shiro got a peek of Leo’s undershirt, which seemed a size too large for his own good. Shiro inadvertently glanced inside, spotting his pristine, immaculate white underfur, and a hint of his
I’m losing my mind, Shiro desperately pulled himself back before he could cross a line he can never return.
The glares have never felt this sharp before.
----------------------------------------
After the undershirt escapade, Shiro was led by Leo through the same hallways as the ones Miss Secretary gave him a crash course on. Leo showed him some norms that were practiced among the students, like letting tinier students such as rodents walk closer to the doors lest they get stomped on, or giving space for the big sized people like elephants and rhinos first when going into a lecture hall.
He also showed the classes which were popular among the students, and those that Leo would crash in once in a while just to give them pity. He also mentioned that every class he enters would somehow bring a crowd of mainly females with him, and Shiro tried his very best to find any hint of self-awareness as he said it. Either he wore it like natural skin or it just wasn’t there.
There wasn’t much to talk about, and soon the both of them fell into an uncomfortable silence. Uncomfortable for Shiro, at least. Leo seemed pretty well and content, whistling as he walked, waving at people every five steps and occasionally catching glances at Shiro right in the eyes and looking away again to wave at more people. For once Shiro got a glimpse of what it was to be a popular guy in school. Nonetheless, the people Leo waved at caught glances of the hideous deformity of nature strutting alongside their Prince Charming and got well on their way to the Mood Swing Olympics. Shiro wanted to at least get distracted from the whole ordeal, so he tried to think of something to say as they walked.
Just as he was thinking, the briefcase under his shoulder began slipping out of grip. As he tightened his armpits, an idea flashed in his head, and he asked Leo about it.
“Where did you find it,” he queried.
“Find what,” Leo queried back.
Shiro lifted the briefcase under his shoulder for the leopard to see.
“Oh, that,” he answered, “I was passing by the backstage entrance to the auditorium. A crane was holding that by the tip of the feathers. She seemed eager to get rid of it, at least from herself. I just happened to be there and happened to offer her help.”
Shiro got intrigued, “So how’d you find me?”
“I didn’t,” Leo answered, “I simply chanced on you.”
Now Shiro was really intrigued, “You had no plan when you took it from her?”
“No, I was thinking of holding on to it. Maybe look inside, see if I can find some secrets. Maybe I could find out why your eyes are so red. Then you waltz into Physics class at just the right time. Who knew? Maybe it was fate that I found you, or brought you to me."
Shiro clutched his briefcase harder than before, glad and relieved that it didn’t spend a second more with the leopard and guilty that his negligence forced the briefcase to spend any time at all with said leopard.
“Here we are,” Leo suddenly stopped in his tracks. Shiro stalled about two steps before catching back. They both pulled up next to another same white double-door as before. Shiro went forward to open it when Leo grabbed him by the tip of his unusually pointy tail. Shiro barely held a yelp, intent on not repeating the undershirt fiasco once again.
“The class hasn’t ended yet,” said Leo. “Wait outside.”
Shiro promptly pulled back his tail and tucked it well away from the leopard’s reach. He looked around, noticing the crowd waiting alongside with others, clutching notes and holding bags and files and paper, all either shooting glances at Leo and glares at himself.
“You’ve got a strange tail,” Leo commented as Shiro ducked back next to him, much to the crowd’s chagrin. Shiro tried to ignore the statement, and take it as a compliment instead. He switched his mind to other things before the illusion wore off.
“What class is this,” he asked, swiftly.
“World History,” Leo answered.
Shiro suddenly felt a little tingle in his stomach as he heard the dreaded words spill out of Leo’s mouth. He never fared well with History classes. Never once had he trudged through one lesson without seeing darkness for the first three minutes. It’s come to the point where it's instinctual for him to close his eyes whenever there’s a mention of the olden days. He’d once suspected it was an actual, serious medical condition, but he never checked because he was too busy sleeping it away.
Either it was coincidental or Shiro had his inner thoughts printed on his face because Leo shifted closer to Shiro and winked at him.
“Don’t worry, I’ll keep you awake,” Leo whispered to him. It had the opposite effect on Shiro, putting him on high-alert status instead, which helped either way. If it was for his physical safety he could probably spare the mental energy to keep himself awake, clean, and safe from whatever Leo had in mind.
Then, as if on cue, a commotion broke out from behind the doors. He heard mummers and stammers and brushes of paper. Leo grabbed Shiro by the elbow and slid to the side of the doors, close to the walls. Suddenly, the doors sprung open, and it hit Shiro right on the side of his snout, blocking him from the inside view.
Leo mouthed back to him. Sorry, he said.
Shiro thought it was fine. He didn’t need a second horde of crossed eyebrows staring at him with malicious intent, he already had his fill with the waiting crowd. So he snuggled himself in a little wedge between the double-doors and waited for the commotion to blow over.
It appeared to Shiro that World History seemed to be quite a hit among students, for he counted at least half a minute and still couldn’t see the end of the departing crowd. It was a big crowd. He couldn’t fathom why, but his bets were placed on the lecturer, which could be a big ray of hope to finally curing his attention disability. He stayed wedged between the door as two forces collide in chaos, running against each current trying to get in and out.
Squirming between a rock and a hard place, Shiro got a good view at Leo and sure enough, he was greeted from every direction by heart-eyed females, feline or not. From behind, Shiro was basked in a full-view of what it’s like to be popular among girls. Up until then, he never really considered attention from the opposite gender, but seeing it now, he reckoned it must feel good to have many Deliahs clamoring to get on your back.
He also did notice how the boys stay away, giving way to the women. Envy, Shiro supposed, but Leo’s distinctive looks opened a different window in their eyes and each of them showed a little hint of attraction mixed with a pinch of confusion and self-doubt. He could even see respect among the glances he caught watching Leo. It was a strange experience, but it was miles better than being under the spotlight himself.
As before, Leo's eyes stayed monotonous. They stayed green, but that was just about it.
Just when the continuous stream of glittered-eyed girls began to seem never ending, Leo's eyes suddenly lit up and turned towards the far side of the door where Shiro’s view was blocked. The girls followed his gaze and they too, made their mark on the Mood Swing Olympics as they quickly gasped in asperation and scattered off as quick as their pattering feet could carry them.
Replacing the girls was a single familiar face that jogged Shiro’s mind quite a bit when he saw him. It was only a second later when Shiro realized who it was.
It was the doberman from below the stage, chattering away with Leo as he walked towards him. Wearing the same uniform as everyone else, he stood at the exact same height with Leo, but was a lot wider. Shiro’s guess that he trained was right. There were hints of built muscle beneath the creases on his black uniform jacket.
Seeing him from up close, Shiro built a more detailed impression of the dog in his mind. He wondered if the scowl was permanently etched on his face, because if there ever was a Mood Swing Olympics he'd be the first to get eliminated. Not once had he seen his eyebrows uncross themselves. It's possibly been like this since birth, Shiro presumed. He suspected he'd never did a voice higher than a grumble or a growl, and had always spoken everything from a spiteful expression. He also had a hunch that he did this to everyone he met. Maybe his parents were the sole exception, but if Shiro had to put any money down he'd bet otherwise.
As for Leo, he didn't seem to mind. All the time he'd never let down a smile in front of the doberman, like he truly enjoyed his company. The doberman too, presented a hint of joy and delight proven by his docked, stumpy tail wagging like no tomorrow.
Then Shiro made a mistake by staring a second longer than he needed to, because the doberman met his eyes and the scowl on his face had deepened from a ditch to a canyon. His tail immediately shot up and rose in alert as he drew his view towards the wolf. He remained static at first, taking into account of Shiro’s presence before pushing past Leo and towards him instead.
“What is he doing here,” he growled with a heavy sense of hostility.
“Let him be,” Leo said, “he’s with me. Isn’t that so, Shiro?”
“Y-yeah,” Shiro stammered as the doberman drew closer and closer towards him. He was forced behind, and backed up to the point where he was standing upright against the wall. As the dog got nearer, Shiro got a full view of his dark, almond brown eyes that were as deep as sharp as a spindle on a spinning wheel. They scrutinized Shiro like searchlights in a prison yard, scanning and sizing him up.
As he was getting gauged, Shiro’s snout twitched. Habit began seizing Shiro by his nose. Natural instinct took over his body and before long, Shiro found himself catching for the doberman’s scent, once again making room for another mental odor lockbox in his head. He caught a thick whiff of dry sweat and weirdly, grit on his body. It wasn’t so strong as to choke the air around him, but it was powerful enough not to go unnoticed.
The doberman got into the act too. Shiro began feeling pockets of air getting pulled from his tracksuit. He stood still, rooted to the floor with his bare feet, daring not to move a single muscle, watching the doberman’s sharp round nose sweep across his body. He took a good long while before his snout stopped twitching, opting to puff out a lungful right on his jacket with malice.
The doberman growled from the depths of his throat, “Smells like someone full of bull-”
Then, before the doberman could finish, he floated off the ground. On one second Shiro was grazed over by the eyes of a dog and in the next he found himself looking at a pair of dangling hind paws. The doberman was caught off guard too, as his expression changed from spiteful to spiteful and slightly surprised, proven by the slight expansion of his perpetually vindictive gaze.
Shiro drew his eyes upward, only to be met by a large, unmissable silhouette dawning over the two. The silhouette held one giant paw, holding the doberman by the collar of his uniform. Details started forming around the dark shadow looming over Shiro, and he felt his heart skip two beats in a row.
No, his mind told him. He was in denial. He looked for all sorts of reasons that would lead up to this moment, none logical enough to pull him back to reality as he frantically searched for explanations for the sight before him.
Then the explanation came. The silhouette before him had both ears attached to the shadow. It was fine. It was okay. It was nothing but a false alarm from a panicked mind. The impossible hasn’t happened, and Shiro built another wall of doubt that it would, ever. His mind returned to reality, and so did his sight.
Shiro's eyes adjusted to the dark and made out the features on the silhouette. The shadow before him belonged to a rather large sun bear standing before him. His paw, as big as a dinner plate, held the doberman with visible ease. He had an impossibly large capacity that was barely held within the standard Academy, uniform. His size rivaled that of an average rhino. Yet, at the same time, a sense of gentleness radiated from him under the back light. If Shiro had to put it in a term, he seemed “huggable” and, if he may dare, “squishy”. He also looked approachable, not as much as Leo but miles ahead of the doberman.
He wore a pair of black-tinted spectacles, held by his soft, bean-like nose. Shiro wondered if the glasses were of any use at all, for the bear didn’t seem to have his eyes open. They were shut, not partially but completely. Shiro couldn’t catch even a sliver of colour between his shut eyelids.
Shiro sensed some familiarity from the bear’s presence, and it didn’t take a second for him to figure out which bear this was.
It was the same one from the auditorium. The one whose grin revealed a jawline that would shudder any herbivore in eye contact.
Shiro had a double-take on the spot. His mind caught the similarity, but his eyes hadn’t. His head must’ve caught some details from his sight that his conscious mind hadn’t. No matter how much Shiro looked he couldn’t find a single bit of detail, save for the body type, that could relate this bear to the bear from the auditorium. It felt like deja vu where you can’t pinpoint whence you’ve experienced it but you knew for sure you had.
“I’m sorry,” the bear apologized. Even his voice was different. The deep growl was a soft, low tone instead. He addressed the doberman under his hand, “Dove here gets territorial at some point. He’s got all the good intentions and only showed such improper manners because he smelled your scent on Leo and is fiercely loyal to his best friend. It’s just his concern for his best mate that he had to antagonize you.”
Shiro had doubts about that, but he had no reason to question Leo’s friendship with Dove. Both of them seemed to be on cloud nine when they met each other. For all Shiro knew, they could even be in a deeper relationship. As of now, they definitely seemed well with each other. But that didn’t mean Shiro was appreciative of Dove sticking his nose inches too close to his body.
Leo popped out from behind the bear. “Calm down Dove,” he reassured the snarling dog, glaring daggers at Shiro while he dangled a feet off the ground, “I was the one that marked my scent on him, not the other way around.”
As if by magic, Dove’s snarl retracted into his normal frown. His eyes didn’t stop stabbing phantom blades at him, though.
The bear gently dropped Dove back on the ground and approached Shiro with an outstretched palm, “My name is Bara, that right there,” he pointed to Dove, “is Dove. I’m certain you’ve caught Leo’s name by now. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
For a split second, Shiro had a rude, primal instinct that told him to stay away from any form of contact with the bear. It came out of nowhere and for no reason. It was a sudden, unexplained impulse that he could never explain in his life. It was like the sight before him; a combination of a giant, bear-like figure extending a welcoming hand; triggered select nerves honed from thousands of years of genetic history, and every single one of them screamed for Shiro to pull back his hand and gun for the nearest sanctuary.
Then that split second passed, and everything went back to normal. Shiro was fazed by that sudden whiplash of mental energy. He quickly composed himself, ignoring that sudden burst in his head, intent on returning Bara’s gesture. He opened his hand, only to find that it couldn’t even reach half of Bara's giant palm, even when it's outstretched from finger to wrist. He hesitated for a well, then he opted to grab one of Bara's short, sausage-like finger and shook it gently. “Shiro,” he said.
“Why did you tell him my name,” Dove suddenly muttered from the side, “who knows what he’ll do with it.”
“Like I said, it’s his concern acting up,” Bara explained, ignoring Dove, “His father works in a triple-A security firm that just so happens to be on the contract with the Academy you’re in-”
“Don’t tell him that,” Dove shot in.
“-so it’s expected for him to inherit some traits from his old man. It’s only out of care, don’t worry,” Bara ended with a soft smile.
Shiro’s doubt only grew in volumes as soon as he heard what Dove’s father was into. The concern flipped and turned the tables. Now SHiro was the worried one. Who knows what kind of dirt Dove can pin on Shiro and tattle to his father, just to have him kicked out of the property? He finally understood why the girls all fled when they saw Dove. “I see,” Shiro replied feebly.
Bara spoke, “Dove may have things he wishes to protect from his name-”
Damn right, Shiro spotted Dove mouthing silently from the corner of his eye.
“-but I’ve got nothing that could possibly bring me any harm. So use my name as you’d reasonably like.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Shiro replied. Guilt began seeping into his heart as he questioned himself for even relating this gentle, polite man of culture to the savage animal back at the auditorium.
Bara pushed up his glasses, peered towards Shiro, shook his head and crouched down on his knees, leveling his eyes with Shiro’s. “I’m sorry but you see, I have this tiresome condition called photophobia, which means my eyes get sensitive under bright light. Is it alright if I look at you closer under my shadow, for the sake of recognition for future meetings, if you don't mind?”
“S-sure,” Shiro agreed, the guilt rooting deeper than ever.
Bara descended down towards Shiro, down to his face. He lifted up his spectacles, and opened his eyes. From there, Shiro stared into the abyss.
His eyes were black. Impossibly black. It overshadowed even the darkest of nights and deepest of chasms. He could see not even a hint of his reflection in his bear pupils, for it was too black for him to see anything. He was staring into both space and nothing. It wretched something from his heart, something primal and instinctive, something he couldn’t fathom nor explain, even for a long time.
“What a brilliant red,” Bara commented. Shiro held his breath as the bear's eyes held him by his windpipe, not letting up even an ounce of pressure,
Just when the Shiro was about to blow, Bara rose back up to his usual stance, pushing his tinted spectacles back up. He heaved a silent breath of relief as he relished in returned freedom. As soon as they were done, Leo strut between them both, facing Bara. He reached inside his uniform jacket and pulled out a brown, ringed notebook with the words physics written in bold, capitalized cursive on the cover.
“You’ve got something for me,” he said.
“Right.” Bara turned to Dove and nodded.
On practice, Bara opened up middle buttons on his jacket and reached in, pulling out a similar notebook with similar bold, cursive letters written on the cover, this time saying Wrold World Hystory History instead. He exchanged notebooks with Leo, and shifted alongside with Bara soon after that.
“Well, we better get going,” Bara bid his farewells, “The next Physics class is starting and we don’t want to be late, especially with that impala as the lecturer.”
Leo waved back, and Shiro did a little nod, which was met with one-sided enmity from Dove, who snorted very audibly from his nose before tagging along with the bear.
“You better go too,” Bara said as he left, “class is starting.”
“Likewise,” Leo returned. He turned to Shiro and nudged his head towards the open doorway. Shiro finally broke free from his little corner, and entered the lecture hall with Leo. The leopard was greeted with friendly waves while the wolf got glared at along with a loud jeer from the right as they entered.
----------------------------------------
Down the hallway, Bara asked Dove, "What do you think?"
Dove was deep in thought as he walked alongside with the bear, something he hadn’t done in a long time.
Bara pushed on, "Well?"
“He’s a sick mutt, that’s what,” Dove growled.
“I meant what you thought of him without involving personal feelings, Dove,” Bara emphasized.
Dove kept his silence for a while, his ears twitching in deep thought.
“So?”
“I smelled something on him,” he finally said.
“What was it?”
Dove fell back into his mind, this time for only a short few seconds before he came back up and said,
“Metal. He smelled like metal.”
Bara nodded as a grin spread across his face. As they crossed the corridor, they passed a portion of space where the light was blocked by a rather large tree sitting outside the windows, planting its shadow all across the place.
Under the shadow, gleams of white leaked from Bara’s grin, and his eyes opened big and wide, revealing the deep, black chasms behind his glasses for the world to see. His sudden change of face ward off the students walking alongside in the corridor. Some actively walking further, while others ducked down and looked away, all silent, quiet and cowering away from Bara.
Only Dove remained with Bara, but his ears were sharp and perking. His steps felt heavy as his grip tensed, crumpling the notebook he held in his hand.
“I see,” Bara let out a deep, malicious growl as he covered his mouth in thought.
“Interesting.”