Winter came as a small mercy, a brief moment where Ezra could pretend his newfound reality wasn’t weighing down on him like an iron shackle.

  The tour had been short, but his role was permanent.

  Fifteen generations had stood where he stood now, holding the same responsibility, carrying the same burden. The core had remained stable for centuries, so what were the real chances that he’d ever have to make the call?

  That was the thought running through his head as he sat alone in his private strato-jet, watching the Earth curve beneath him, the stars above stretching endlessly into the void. For the first time in a long time, he wanted nothing more than to be home.

  Nonna’s house was warm, filled with the scent of fresh food, twinkling lights, and the quiet comfort of family.

  And Ezra had arrived just in time. Julie was holding up her phone, camera recording, her voice filled with pure joy as she gasped—"Ezra! Look!"

  Ezra barely had time to register what she meant before his eyes nded on Adam. His son. Standing on unsteady legs, wobbling but determined, taking small, shaky steps. And then—"Da-da!"

  Adam stumbled forward, arms outstretched, walking straight into Ezra’s waiting arms. A shockwave of emotion hit him all at once. Julie’s ughter filled the room, Nonna cpped excitedly, and Ezra—Ezra just held his son, eyes burning, heart full.

  For all the madness of the past year—the White-Coats, the Silent Legion, the reactor, the knowledge that his future was no longer his own—For this one moment, it was worth it.

  Later that evening, the house was at peace. Seth had put on a Quarantinemas movie, and the whole family settled onto the couch, warm and content. Ezra sat between Julie and Ciarra, cradling Adam, while Nonna rested in her favorite armchair, bundled in a bnket. Ciarra was curled up on Seth’s p, half-listening to the movie, half-lost in the quiet happiness of the room.

  For the first time in months, Ezra felt the tension drain from his body.

  The movie pyed softly, the room was dimly lit, and warmth settled over him like a thick, comforting haze. Ezra’s eyelids grew heavy, his head leaning slightly against Julie’s shoulder.Then—

  prrr-rrr-rrr…

  Ezra’s brow twitched. His ears perked. He blinked drowsily, scanning the room. …Did they get a cat?

  He was certain his family didn’t own any pets. But there it was again—prrr-rrr-rrr—a deep, rhythmic purring sound, gentle but undeniable. Ezra frowned. Slowly, he turned his head. And his soul left his body. The sound was coming from Ciarra.

  Seth was soothingly rubbing her back, his other arm wrapped around her as she nuzzled against his chest, practically cradled in his arms.

  And she was purring. Like an actual goddamn cat.

  Ezra sat there, frozen, his brain short-circuiting, his grip tightening on Adam as if his son could somehow protect him from the sheer absurdity unfolding before him. The purring continued, soft but undeniable, vibrating deep from within Ciarra’s chest. Julie, completely at peace, rested her head against Ezra’s. Ezra, on the other hand, felt his entire reality unraveling.

  The movie no longer mattered. The warmth of the room no longer mattered. All he could think about was the goddamn purring. He sat rigid, eyes darting to the others. No one reacted.

  Nonna was dozing off in her chair.Seth was calmly holding Ciarra.Julie was perfectly rexed.

  Was he the only one disturbed by this?! The purring finally faded as Ciarra drifted off to sleep. And yet—Ezra knew. He would never un-hear it. He would never un-know it.

  Sleep? Oh, hell no. He wasn’t going to get a good night’s sleep for a long, long time.

  Ezra had been mentally preparing himself for this conversation, but now that he was here, sitting across from his father in the soft glow of Quarantinemas lights, he realized—There was no way to prepare for this.

  He exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face. "Alright, Dad. I gotta ask."

  Seth raised a brow, sipping his coffee. "Yeah?"

  Ezra leaned in, lowering his voice like he was about to ask some deep, life-changing question. "What’s with the purring?"

  Seth smirked. Ezra’s stomach sank immediately. "Heh," Seth chuckled, eyes glinting with mischief. "Jealous?"

  Ezra choked on his own breath. "What?! No! What the— No!"

  Before he could recover from that emotional damage, Ciarra wandered into the room, stretching zily, her snow-white hair tumbling over her shoulders.

  Seth turned to her with casual amusement. "Hey, honey. Show him that thing. You know the one."

  Ciarra immediately turned beet red, waving a hand in protest. "Nuuuu! You know how shy I am about it!"

  Ezra sat rigid, his eyes darting between them. They were both smirking. Like he was the butt of an inside joke he didn’t understand. And that was when Ezra realized the truth. He was not going to like what happened next.

  Seth, with that same damn smirk, leaned back in his chair. "C’mon, show him."

  Ciarra hesitated. Then, after a moment’s internal debate, she carefully reached up, grabbing a tuft of her own hair. And peeled it away. Ezra’s heart stopped. Underneath the wig, twitching ever so slightly, were—Cat ears.

  Real, actual, fur-covered, snow-white, moving cat ears!

  Ezra’s soul left his body. He shot out of his chair, hands pnted on the table, his entire worldview shattering in real time. "For fuck’s sake, Dad, did you marry a FURRY?!?"

  Ciarra gasped.

  Seth let out a long, deep sigh of disappointment, shaking his head.

  Ezra barely registered it, his mind spiraling into chaos. His dad married a furry. His dad married a furry. His dad married a—Then the ears twitched.

  Not mechanically. Not like a cospy attachment or some high-tech modification. But naturally.

  Ezra’s breath caught. His entire body locked up. No.

  No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

  That wasn’t supposed to happen. "You know," Seth said casually, stirring his coffee, "that’s kind of an outdated slur."

  Ezra’s brain blue-screened. He turned, gaping at his father. Seth looked at him like he was a child who had just pointed at a disabled person in public and ughed. Ezra wanted to protest. He wanted to scream DO YOU KNOW WHAT I’VE SEEN?!?

  He wanted to tell them about the horrors beneath Mt. Fuji, about the Silent Legion, about how people mutated from exposure, about how he had stood in front of a walking security officer with hooves and horns and goddamn cow tits—But he couldn’t.

  His father just sipped his coffee, waiting.

  Ciarra, on the other hand, visibly shrank, tucking her ears under the wig again, her expression suddenly timid and self-conscious.

  And just like that—Ezra felt like absolute shit. His shoulders sagged, the fire of protest dying in his throat. "Ah, shit," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "I… I’m sorry."

  Ciarra peeked up at him, her expression hesitant, but hopeful.

  Ezra sighed. He couldn’t tell them the truth. So instead, he shrugged. "Japan’s done a number on me, that’s all."

  Seth smirked, clearly accepting the excuse. "It does that."

  Ciarra smiled softly. "It’s okay, Ezra. I know it’s… a lot."

  Ezra forced a smile, nodding. "Yeah. Yeah, it is."

  She stepped forward, wrapping her arms around him in a warm, genuine hug. Ezra returned it, feeling her squeeze him gently—and just when he was about to rex— Something brushed against his side. Something that hadn’t been there before. His entire body locked up.

  It was…

  No.

  No, no, NO.

  It was a tail.

  Ezra stared bnkly over Ciarra’s shoulder, his soul in freefall, his sanity fraying at the edges.

  He had two choices in this moment. Face reality. Accept that his dad’s wife had cat ears, a tail, and possibly other horrors lurking beneath the surface. Or.. Lie to himself. Pretend that she was just a dedicated furry who had invested way too much into life-like cybernetic enhancements.

  Ezra chose Option 2.

  He swallowed down every negative thought, every creeping horror, every nightmare-inducing possibility and simply embraced denial. Ciarra pulled back, smiling warmly at him. Ezra forced his best attempt at looking normal and gave her a nod of approval.

  Seth cpped him on the back. "See? Was that so bad?"

  Ezra’s eyelid twitched.

  "Not at all," he said, voice mechanically even. Then, with all the strength he had left in him, he turned and walked away before his brain exploded.

  Ezra sat hunched on a stone bench outside Nonna’s house, brown paper bag clutched over his mouth, breathing in and out like a man on the verge of a full-blown crisis. He had seen too much. Felt too much.

  Learned one too many cursed truths about his father’s wife and her… extra features. The soft crunch of footsteps in the snow-covered garden made him gnce up. Ciarra stood there, hands tucked behind her back, looking entirely too amused for someone who just shattered his fragile sense of reality. "You look like you need something to take the edge off," she mused.

  Ezra groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Unless you got a way to erase memories, I’m beyond saving."

  Ciarra just smiled, stepping forward. "Well, I don’t have that, but…" She pulled out a small wooden smoking pipe, holding it up like a peace offering.

  Ezra squinted. Then, as she pulled out a small pouch of green flower, realization dawned. His eye twitched. "For the love of God," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose, "please tell me that’s not catnip."

  Ciarra burst out ughing. "No, no! Just regur old weed, Ezra."

  Ezra gnced between her, the pipe, and the snow-dusted yard around them. After everything he had been through, all the madness, the White-Coat nonsense, the Silent Legion, Haru, and now his stepmother literally purring in his father’s arms—How much worse could this really make things?

  With a sigh, he took the pipe from her hand. "Alright, fine," he muttered. "Hit me."

  Ciarra grinned, lighting it up and taking a long inhale before passing it over.

  Ezra took his first hit, exhaling into the crisp winter air. And just like that—The world got a little quieter.

  It didn’t take long before the devil’s lettuce loosened Ezra’s mind up completely. Which was probably why the next words out of his mouth were—"So what’s the deal, Ciarra? Did Dad fuck a cat or something?"

  Ciarra choked on her inhale, coughing as she ughed. "Kind of!" she wheezed.

  Ezra sat bolt upright, staring at her in horror. "Kinda?!?"

  Ciarra wiped tears from her eyes, still giggling. "Rex, Ezra. It’s not like that."

  "Then how about you actually expin, instead of dropping a goddamn bombshell on Quarantinemas and calling it a day?!"

  Ciarra leaned back against the bench, smirking as she took another slow drag. "My mother," she began, "had features like mine. Not quite as… developed, but the same traits. My dad?" She exhaled the smoke, watching it swirl in the air. "He worked with gravitons. Let’s leave it at that."

  Ezra slumped back, rubbing his temples. "Jesus Christ," he muttered.

  Ciarra turned, studying him curiously. Then she tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly. "You know," she said, "my hair wasn’t always white."

  Ezra gnced at her. For a second, the gears in his brain turned, but the weed was slowing his usual rapid-fire thoughts. Then—A bell rang in his mind.

  His hand drifted up to his mustache, fingers brushing against the single white sliver in the middle.

  Oh.

  Ohhhhhh.

  That’s why she was considered unlucky. The realization hit him like a freight train. He remembered being mocked as a kid. He remembered the nickname "cumstain" haunting him through his youth, all because of one stupid streak of white in his hair.

  And if he had gone through that? Ezra could only imagine what Ciarra had endured growing up. "Yeah," she said, reading his expression. "It was bad."

  Ezra nodded slowly. Ciarra leaned her head back, staring up at the sky. "The other kids wouldn’t let me py their games," she admitted. "They called me cursed. Bad luck. It was easier to just… keep to myself. So I did. My mother taught me everything she could before she passed. Medicine, mostly."

  Ezra blinked. "Wait—your mom taught you medicine?"

  Ciarra grinned. "Yeah. She was good, too. Taught me how to do surgery on myself."

  Ezra stared at her. "You’re messing with me."

  Ciarra smirked. "I once removed my own appendix, awake."

  Ezra inhaled too fast and started coughing. "Holy shit, dy."

  Ciarra just ughed. "What can I say? I had to learn the hard way."

  Ezra handed the pipe back, still processing that insanity. Then, finally, he asked the one question still gnawing at him. "So," he started, tilting his head, "the purring."

  The moment he said it, Ciarra’s cheeks turned pink, and she looked away. She was embarrassed.

  Ezra narrowed his eyes. "Oh, don’t you start getting shy now."

  Ciarra covered her ears, curling her shoulders slightly.

  Ezra sighed, watching her for a long moment. Then, with reluctant acceptance, he muttered, "…Alright. I’ll admit it."

  Ciarra peeked at him through her fingers. "Admit what?"

  Ezra exhaled, staring at the distant snow-covered trees. "It’s kinda cute," he grumbled. Ciarra blinked. Ezra sighed deeper. "And maybe," he continued, "juuuust maybe, I might be a little jealous." Ciarra beamed, wiggling slightly, tail thumping happily against the bench.

  Ezra groaned. "Oh god, stop doing that."

  She giggled. "What? You said it was cute."

  Ezra rubbed his tired face, slumping deeper into the bench.

  "I always wanted a pet growing up," he admitted. "But Dad said it was too much responsibility."

  Ciarra giggled harder. "And yet, here you are, stuck with Haru."

  Ezra sighed the sigh of a man who had aged five years overnight. "That kid is a nightmare responsibility." Ciarra, still giggling, scooted closer, wrapping her arms around him. Ezra hesitated for a second before letting himself rex into the hug. The tail kept thumping. But thanks to the weed, Ezra decided not to care.

  In fact, he realized, he wished he had weed back in White-Coat University. It might’ve actually made that hellhole bearable. They sat like that for a while, the winter air crisp but not cold, the house behind them glowing with warmth and quiet ughter.

  Then—click.

  Ezra’s eyes shot open. Slowly, he turned his head. Julie stood there, phone in hand, smirking.

  This time, though—This time, Ezra just exhaled, sinking back into the bench.

  The weed helped. For once—he allowed himself to enjoy the moment.