---

 

Shiro checked inside his tracksuit when he reached the dorm. Lucille was gone. She must've jumped out on the way. He changed his clothes, washed his old pair, dealt with his wound and spent the rest of his day listlessly.

Well, as listless as he could anyway.

The morning incident wasn't something so easily forgettable.

After many considerations, Shiro came to the conclusion that his decision to join a club was very much justified and doubly so that the Doberman doesn't catch wind of it.

The day came and went without many highlights; not that anything could top the occurrence at the fountain. The next day went just about the same, only this time Shiro decided to change his morning routine indoors with a mild workout instead. Some sit-ups and push-ups. Nothing major; just something to pass the time. Other than that his day was mostly spent either memorizing the underside of his upper bunk and reorganizing the storeroom.

As for food, he recently came to a discovery that the Academy cafeteria actually stays open even during weekends, only on a smaller scale and without pre-prepared meals. He only found out when his boredom overrode his courage and sent him strolling around the empty halls of the Academy. There were other students milling about the halls minding their business, dressed either casually or in a uniform. None of them seemed pleasantly surprised to see Shiro. He started having his food in the cafeteria instead of mooching off his roommates' supply.

Romps and Vox came back in the evening, both seeming tired but content.

"Welcome back," Shiro greeted them.

Romps then threw him a question, "You had your dinner yet?"

Shiro shook his head, curiosity pertaining in his gaze. He was planning to have a light meal in the cafeteria.

Vox then raised his hand, showing off the many plastic bags dangling off his arm, all packed, bulging, and, sensed by Shiro's canine nose, smelling exquisite. The fox hoped that the wolf was okay with rice and spice.

"And if you don't fancy that, I've brought haddocks and wedges," Romps said as he raised a huge bag of his own.

Shiro stared at a daze for a bit before snapping to realization. He rushed to the kitchen, grabbing plates and utensils, "T-thanks."

"Bah, don't be. We do this every weekend. It's about time we mix things with a third party," Romps said as he dumped the contents of his suitcase on his bed.

Vox chimed in on his own, claiming that Shiro could be a judge for both his and Romps' food and finally recognise the former's superiority.

"Can it," Romps snapped at Vox, "It's more interesting than dead flowers on dry grains."

The fox retorted with nothing but the mention of rotten fish and oily potatoes, which pulled Romps' already burrowing frown even deeper.

Just as things were escalating Shiro came strolling back, carrying three full sets of silverware and ceramics.

"Do you guys want to mix both?" he asked.

The two looked at the wolf for a moment, then at the food, then at each other for a quiet while. Then Vox broke the silence by asking for a bigger helping of rice on his plate.

“Opposite of what he said,” the sheepdog replied.

Shiro did exactly what they said and the three sat down around the coffee table, eating cross-legged.

Romps took a glance at Shiro’s plate.

“You don’t like fish?”

Shiro looked up with a confused expression as his cheeks brimmed with chewed rice. He looked down to his plate and saw what Romps meant. All he had were mounds of beige grains with some pickled pieces of vegetables sprinkled in it.

He quickly swallowed and replied, “Don’t eat meat.”

“A vegetarian canine,” Romps remarked, “That’s new.”

Vox then nudged the sheepdog in the shoulder and presented him the widest smug his small snout could achieve.

“Oi, he’s a vegetarian,” Romps retorted, “That doesn’t count.”

His retaliation did nothing to wipe away the smug on the fox’s look.

The sheepdog, unable to swallow his pride, turned to Shiro and asked, “Is it that you can’t eat meat or that you won’t eat meat?”

The wolf looked up, his mouth full and lips stuck with rice, “Hm?”

He quickly swallowed and answered, “Just don’t want to.”

Romps leaned in towards Shiro, “So that means you won’t go belly up if you do, right?”

Shiro simply shrugged to that.

“Good,” the sheepdog cut out a medium-sized piece of grilled haddock and stabbed it into Shiro’s rice, “Just try this one, and tell me if it’s better.”

Vox quickly kicked Romps in the shoulders, but in comparison to his crumbling self-esteem, it was but a wind’s breeze.

Shiro was reluctant at first, seeing that piece of colourless meat crash into his rice like a meteorite forming a crater. But then he looked up to the sheepdog’s expression and gave in anyway. With steady hands, he skewered the piece of fish over his mouth and snapped it clean off his fork. He chewed on the piece, letting his saliva carry the flavour through his tongue and down his throat. Romps watched the wolf’s molars work with great anticipation. Even Vox got caught up in all of it, seeing as his hands were suspended in motion, his spoon halfway towards his snout as he kept his eye on the wolf.

He chewed on it some more, mashing the fish apart with his jaws, soaking up the taste behind his lips. Then, beyond Shiro’s awareness, his curved tail started wagging.

The sheepdog shot a triumphant look towards the fox that glowed bright, shining even through the thick hair blocking his eyes.

“See,” he said, “He digs-”

Then, in a split second, Shiro’s expression took a sharp turn. None of the two spotted it; only the aftermath that followed. For a fleeting moment, the wolf froze in his place. His cheeks stopped moving, along with his teeth, raised in his mouth on a standstill as the chewed fish laid on his tongue, waiting to be swallowed. It was like a busy factory that had met with a sudden blackout. His pupils dilated and in that fracture of an instant, he stared into an immeasurable distance that could only be felt by him alone.

A fading glimpse of an image surfaced in the wolf’s head.

Struck with an abrupt fever, he shovelled spoonfuls of rice into his mouth, burying the fish under hills of soft grains and spices. The other two were caught off guard as they witnessed the wolf shove his cheeks full at a lightning’s pace.

The radiant parade of an expression Romps put on was immediately rained on, along with his dignity. Conversely, Vox’s smug resurfaced and grew wider than before.

The sheepdog, dejected, voiced out solemnly, “You really don’t like meat, huh?”

The wolf swallowed with a big gulp and said, “Sorry.”

“Bah,” the sheepdog waved it away, “I forced you in the first place. I should be the bloody one apologizing.”

Very much not reading the room, Vox nudged the sheepdog on the shoulders again.

“Can it,” the sheepdog said without turning. Forking another piece of fish on his plate, Romps quickly switched the subject, “Anyway, I heard from this mushroom with ears that you tried with the Librarians.”

As the fox landed another kick on Romps’ shoulder, Shiro nodded.

The sheepdog asked, “Did they tell you when to expect the result?”

Shiro replied instantly, “Going back next Monday.”

“On the spot? That must be one heck of an interview you gave,” Romps joked.

There were many things the wolf could’ve said to that, but all he spoke was, “Yea.”

Romps leaned in close, “Any cute girls there?”

The response came from Vox instead. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He swiped through it a few dozen times and showed it to Romps. The sheepdog recoiled at the sight of his screen, cringing from his shoulders as he gritted his teeth.

He turned back to the wolf, “Any other members besides… that?”

“Don’t know,” Shiro replied.

“Well, tough luck,” Romps said, “Should’ve joined the Swim Team instead. They’ve been recruiting, you know. I’ve heard they let everyone swim in the same pool. Yes, it is a big pool, but the same pool nonetheless.”

Shiro responded with a shrug, putting in another scoop in his mouth.

“So uh, this… girl,” Romps asked, “Did she give a name?”

“Scree- no,” the wolf quickly swallowed and corrected himself, “Krin.”

Romps asked, "Does she treat you well?"

"She's friendly," Shiro answered.

"That's good. But still, better watch yourself," the sheepdog warned.

Shiro looked up from his food, “Why?”

“Well, you know…”

But the wolf didn’t know. His expression was just as clear as his understanding of Romps’ words; muddy at best.

“Alright,” the sheepdog dropped his utensils, “The eyes you’re getting around the Academy. Those ain’t so friendly. You hit a jackpot with the two of us but that’s because I know we’re the two of us. So what about them? I actually didn’t believe Vox for a slight moment when he told me you passed the interview. I genuinely thought he was joking. This isn’t towards you, by the way, but to the probability. The whole Academy, excuse my frankness, absolutely loathes you. How possible is it that you’d hit another jackpot like us again.”

Shiro didn’t answer for a moment.

“Did you ever suspect how smooth-sailing the interview went; how you were accepted on the first day. And this Krin girl,” Romps pointed out, “She’s friendly and all but how could you know she’s not in it with the act?”

“Interview didn’t go well,” Shiro immediately cut in.

“That- oh- well, how’d you-”

“Made me do things,” Shiro simply said.

“What did he- you know, nevermind about that. So that’s one down. But still, if I was you I’d-”

Then Romps reconsidered his words.

“No, I won’t know what I’d do. But if some bastard strikes a bloody curse on me and puts me in your position I’d be careful. Very careful.”

“I think she’s fine,” Shiro said.

Romps was taken aback for a second, “Did you hear what I say?”

“Think she’s okay,” Shiro blurted out.

“How’d you even know that?”

As Shiro answered his question, Romps could see the look in his eyes. He could see the sincerity oozing out in fumes as his voice displayed a level of conviction that could only be rivalled by the most zealous of preachers, only to be held down by his natural, gravelly voice. His expression was as serious as it could get as if he was giving a eulogy; his last will and testament.

“I can feel it,” the wolf said.

Romps tried to find a leaking pretence of sarcasm in his poise. There was absolutely none. The sheepdog tried to retort but was soon shut down as Vox put a hand on his lap and shook his head.

“Fine,” he said, “Go trust your instincts.”

The wolf nodded and sunk his head back to his meal.

“But I will say this, as mates of the same dorm,” Romps drew up his utensils, “If she gets too persistent, watch out. That’s the mask slipping.”

Shiro spoke out, “It’ll be fine.”

 

---

 

Do you need any help? Krin scribbled out on her red board.

For the fifth time of the morning, Shiro answered, “I’m fine.”

Tipping his toes, Shiro watched over his shoulder towards the lizard as he slotted dusty covers after covers into bookshelves.

“I can do it myself,” the wolf said for the umpteenth time.

And for the umpteenth time, Krin scribbled out, I can’t go away, you know.

And for the umpteenth, Shiro knew there was nothing he could do about it. It was the boss's order, after all. And considering the circumstances, he didn't have much choice.

As soon as Shiro arrived in the morning he was bombarded by the club president, who showed up out of nowhere from behind the door, barking orders at him from below his chest.

"New boxes just came in. All of it goes to shelves B, G, and everything in between. I’ll be generous and assume you’re literate; there are labels written on the covers, so use your head. Since you're new and you are who you are, all I ask is that the books get in the correct place and an upright position," he said.

Fresh off the morning fatigue, all Shiro had to say was, "Uh…"

From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Krin, walking up to him with the red board in her hand. Though her skull didn’t show it, her buoyant strides seemed excited to welcome the new member of the club.

Before She could even raise her board the otter spun on his heel and stared straight towards the lizard with an almost clairvoyant precision and barked out, “Watch him closely and make sure he doesn’t screw up, or whatever people like him end up doing on the job. And don't help him either; if he makes a mistake I want to be there to see it."

Without as much as a scorn towards Shiro, the otter sped out of the library with a bag on his back, leaving the wolf alone with a box of books, a labyrinth of bookshelves and a lizard with a red board. 

And that concluded a great prologue to Shiro’s morning.

Whether intentionally or not, Krin followed through every single syllable of the otter's words. All except the "don't help him" part.

Shiro picked up a particularly heavy, thickset encyclopedia, unsure of whether it goes with the Science department or the General Knowledge department. Mistakes weren't viable options either, for the impression he made on the one man who gave him the task wasn't particularly well, more so when he's the one with the power to strip Shiro of his position as a club member. And, though it may be paranoia on the wolf's part, the otter seemed pretty enthusiastic about finding a good reason to boot him out of the club.

Then his mind swiftly changed when he saw Krin half-turning the red board in her hand. With a risky gamble, he dropped the book into the General Knowledge section. The lizard stared for a second and turned the board back towards her. Shiro blew a silent sigh. He didn't know why he was so on edge from Krin's offer of assistance. Maybe it was the power the otter held that was so constrictive of Shiro's predicament that his words formed an omnipresence, unfelt by all but him, watching him from the shadows afar.

Eager to distract Krin from his job and himself from the otter, Shiro asked, "What do you do? In the club."

Krin turned to him with a glow in her expression (her mouth opened a little). With quick fingers, she twisted the knobs on her board and wrote, I usually key out, lend and fix books.

Before Shiro could even read three words in, the lizard shifted for a moment in her shoes, turned the board back and fiddled out something else.

Now it read, We'd be keying in, lending and fixing books.

"Anything else?" Shiro asked, trying to squeeze the most out of the conversation.

I sometimes make coffee and buy food, she wrote.

Now Shiro was intrigued, "For who?"

Sometimes the students but mostly for the President, Krin replied.

"Why?"

Sometimes they ask so I just help.

"You just do it?"

The lizard simply nodded.

“Don’t you say no?”

Krin, visually confused, turned the board, scribbled something out and flipped it back, Why should I?

His head thinking something else, Shiro simply grabbed onto a second book and punched it onto the bookshelves. It was when the book didn't go in after the third thrust that the wolf realized the compartment was full. In fact, as he looked for space, he found out that every compartment was already brimmed with covers and papers. He looked around on the spot some more and finally found a space; one that was unfortunately just a book's height too tall for Shiro to reach.

He reached up once to confirm his hypothesis. It was, indeed, just one book too tall for him.

Like a spider made of ice crawling down his spine, Shiro sensed something ominous from Krin's side. It went as he expected when he glanced towards the corner of his eye; the lizard was already scribbling something onto her board which Shiro would be confident enough to bet his life on what it's going to read.

Blasted to his wits' end by the mixture of unfounded paranoia and his agility, Shiro bent his knees and jumped up to the empty space, hanging his fingers off a small ledge whilst standing on a compartment with his toes.

Shocked and scared, Krin rushed up towards him, absolutely terrified to the point where she dropped her board to the ground just to reach out underneath the wolf.

As he perilously slid the book into the empty space, Shiro tried to calm the lizard down, calling out to her, "I'm fine-"

It was then when Shiro felt his toes slipping off the books. As a last-ditch effort, he tried to straighten his ankles. In a single swipe, his claws slid off a particularly smooth cover and snatched away by gravity. For a split second, he felt the floor shift places from below to his front. Before he could understand that it was all an illusion played by a momentary lapse of his sense of balance, Shiro had already let go of his fingers. When realization struck, he was in a bottom-first dive towards the wooden floor.

Three thoughts came to the wolf's head consecutively. The first thought was the uncomfortable implications of having his spine face the brunt of the impact between an unstoppable force and an immovable object with a cushion the equivalent of stacking two magazines atop one another. A million scenarios came into his head, each one as brutal as the other, and that was discounting the humiliation of having someone watch him hit the floor on his ass with spread legs.

The second thought was a whiplash of emotions as his head turned from fright to confusion to relief as he felt his fall jolt to a halt. He braced himself for the inevitable pain to beach up to his nerves like miniature tidal waves under his skin. It never came. His nerves were as still as a cub’s nap in his mother’s embrace. Shiro scrambled to catch up to the current happening, wondering whether to be thankful that his spine hasn’t been sent to a raging state of excruciating pain or be frightened by the sudden change of physics.

He then felt something reaching underneath his knees. It felt rigid and hard with nails shooting into his pants. He looked down to check and found out it was actually a pair of scaly hands holding him up from his legs.

He didn’t need to follow the arms to know whose fingers were holding him.

He looked up, meeting Krin’s skull as they almost touched snout to snout.

“I’m fine now,” he said, “T-thanks.”

His third thought came when Krin let out a huge breath of relief from her chest, which had been laying on Shiro’s shoulders for the duration he was held in the lizard’s arm.

Soft, he thought.

The two remained looking at one another, slowly calming down as their heads caught up to the moment after the sudden turn of events.

It wasn’t long until Shiro realized he was being held under his knees in a compromising position, with his legs spread and his back against a particularly large set of breasts in a place where he’d be hard-pressed to forget if discovered by a third party, much less explaining himself to said third party.

“I’m fine now,” Shiro said again.

Krin stared at him for a while, unsure of what the wolf meant.

Shiro repeated himself once more, this time with all the assurance he could muster from the bubbling humiliation clogging his throat, “I’m fine now.”

This time Krin finally understood. Her body was thrown into a flustering frenzy. She looked around, wondering how she could put Shiro down before she eventually leaned down from her hips, putting the wolf on his feet as she pushed him from her chest.

Eager to move it forwards and put things behind, Shiro grabbed onto the box of books and moved on to the opposite shelf.

Every available empty space was all one book’s height too tall for Shiro’s reach.

Numbed by the irony from the recent fiasco, he turned to Krin and asked shamelessly, “You have a ladder?”

Krin, now reunited with her red board, nodded and scribbled out, I’ll grab it for you.

“Just take me there,” Shiro said.

Turns out it was just two shelves away from Shiro’s accident. He felt an invigorating bitterness shake him off his numbed senses with a pang of spiteful shame on the side. Nevertheless, there was nothing he could do about it but to feel a grudge against the ladder who wronged him while doing nothing.

 

---

 

The morning went, and the club president still wasn't back. It was probably for the best. He didn't need a second pair of eyes looming over him like a sentient umbrella. The first pair of eyes were from Krin, and he wasn’t even sure if the lizard had any eyes under her dark, muted green hair. For all he knew it could probably be empty holes like the skull her face seemed to be. At that point, Shiro didn’t feel the necessity to ask, and felt that he’d be better off not knowing. It wasn’t founded by any sort of understanding; he simply felt rude to ask.

What he also felt rude to ask was for Krin to put the pressure off him. It definitely wasn’t intentional, but from the moment the wolf finished his tasks to the time they’ve spent together on the counter and the one moment they took looking for a suitable chair for Shiro’s space behind the counter; since the club never accounted for more than one vital member manning the station; Shiro had felt a piercing gaze from the lizard. There wasn’t any animosity behind it but it didn’t need it. The wolf knew Krin was simply following the Watch him closely part of the command with naive devotion, but he’d also appreciate it if she would ease a little in her dedication to her job. Shiro felt as if he had an anvil dangling off his head for the entire time.

Nevertheless, Shiro wouldn’t, in good conscience, find fault in Krin. He was already grateful enough that she didn’t treat him like a wet stain on a sidewalk, much less in a friendly, approaching manner. He even felt slightly guilty for not returning the favour, and even more so whenever he turned down Krin’s offers for help, which rained like leaves in a forest. Eventually, he relented, when Krin asked why Shiro wasn’t attending any classes.

Looking up to the lizard from his short, wooden stool, Shiro asked back, “What?”

Krin wrote, There’s supposed to be class now, isn’t it?

Shiro replied, “I… uh... “

Shiro didn’t know what to say. He didn’t feel like dragging Krin into his predicament like some free agent, but he also needed a good reason to skip classes as well. He kept his mouth ajar for a moment as Krin stared down from behind her open, hollow nostrils.

Unable to come up with anything good, Shiro flipped the target, “W-what about you?”

Krin pointed to herself in a curious fashion.

“Didn’t see you going to class,” he quickly said.

Krin scribbled out something on her board and turned it around, I self-study by myself in here, whenever there are no students.

Shiro looked to the counter and saw the abundance of books laying on Krin's side of the counter, bunched together in neat piles as if Vox had taken residence nearby.

Shiro asked, "Why?"

Krin then scribbled out, The students didn't want to see my face.

Shiro asked, "You did something to them?"

Krin shook her head and wrote, I know I'm not a normal person, given my appearance.

She flipped the board back and wrote some more, Others find me scary, so I'll do my best to hide away.

Shiro asked, "You don't feel anything about it?"

Krin tilted her snout in confusion, then shook her head.

Then she wrote, What about you?

It was Shiro's turn to make an expression of confusion.

Why aren't you attending class, Krin asked.

Shit, Shiro thought. As quickly as possible, he darted his eyes around the place, helplessly looking for one fateful clue that'll grant him the lifeline of an excuse to pull him out from this complication.

Then, catching a mere glimpse on Krin's side of the counter, Shiro read one of the titles of the books in his head.

Communicatively Errored, I Am

Communicative

Error

"C-can't talk to people good," Shiro muttered out to Krin.

I slightly expected it, if you may excuse me, the lizard wrote, I can help you study while you're here.

As what seemed to be a cherry on top, she also wrote, I'm fairly confident in my studies myself.

Shiro saw an invisible glint from Krin's face as she turned the red board. Every time she gave any request to assist there was a small, barely discernible glow to her appearance, almost as if she's a godsend from above to raise Shiro from his sorry state. He saw this many times today and quickly turned it down before the light could get to him. But this time he just couldn't; not when he heard what he heard and with what he's getting out of the lessons.

"S-sure," he said, "Thanks."

For a moment, Shiro felt as if a sun had blinded him from point-blank.

 

---

 

Time flew past relatively quickly. Lunch period arrived in a blink of an eye. Within the duration in between, Shiro learned that Krin had been self-studying for a year already and that she skipped a year in the process. She was also in the same grade as Shiro, though leagues ahead in terms of academic levels.

It also took Shiro twenty minutes after he learned of Krin's current grade when he finally put two and two together and made the realization.

"You're fourteen?"

Krin nodded.

Shiro wasn't surprised by her grade, considering the type of students the Academy admits; though his physical image of common fourteen-year-olds was greatly revised after that.

Students came pouring in droves, like unstoppable tidal waves bashing through the gates. Shiro was thankful for the short stool he got, which hid him pretty well when the students came. Some tall enough to see over the counter were given shocks of varying degrees; none of them were the good kind, though there were quite a few that had a slight chuckle from seeing a lanky black wolf shrunken down to a third of his size with a hunched back and knees reaching up beneath his chin.

A bat came in during the lunch rush. To Shiro’s surprise, he’d never seen a bat this small. He’d reckon he could grab the bat’s whole body with a single grip with space to spare. From afar, he seemed microscopic, almost like a ‘microbat’. His torso was so small that he could physically fly with his wings, which stretched nearly thrice his size from one wing to another. Most winged animals in the world couldn’t do that, but there have been rare cases of physical oddities like this, and as of then, Shiro’s bearing witness to one such example.

The bat flitted his wings through the busy crowd and landed right on top of the counter on his four limbs. He didn’t seem to notice Shiro’s fascinated gaze staring from below.

With a sharp shrill of a voice, he commanded Krin with a single word, “Book.”

Upholding a posture of professionalism, the lizard nodded, reached down beneath the counter and pulled out the device Shiro saw used on Vox from yesterday.

The bat simply gave a wave of dismissal and simply said, “Just give me the book.”

Unfazed, Krin nodded again and reached under the counter again, pulling out a book as huge as the bat himself. The edges were chock full of multicoloured sticky notes as if the pages themselves were vomiting rainbows. She set it down before the bat.

“You marked the notes for me?”

The lizard nodded.

With a flippant throw, the bat flipped through the pages, checking it by the tens. He went through the whole book in less than a quarter of a minute. He then closed the cover, looked up to the lizard and asked, “Where’s the highlighting?”

Krin held up her red board and wrote, It is forbidden to write on library property.

The bat didn’t even bother to hide his voice. He spoke out loud, “Useless.”

He grasped onto the edges of the book with his feet and swiftly flew away, weaving among the crowd and out of the library.

Shiro looked up to the lizard and asked her, “Friend?”

She shook her head.

“You even know his name?”

She shook her head again.

“So who’s he?”

I don’t know, she wrote, He asked me to help him yesterday.

“Why do it?”

Seemingly confused, she wrote, Because he asked?

Shiro couldn't find any response to that. Not for the lack of understanding, but from the blind hook that was Krin's answer, thrown to Shiro out of left field.

He couldn't think of anything to respond to, much less refute. He merely acknowledged her words, regardless of comprehension.

It wasn't long after the bat when they came.

The 'they' in question was a group of rowdy carnivores; a short aardwolf, a rough-feathered pelican, and a silver-haired cougar; the species, not the woman. They came in with a ruckus, announcing their arrival to any unfortunate soul close enough to hear them; and considering that Shiro could hear their peals of laughter from the other side of the library, that would be everyone.

The group dragged their hoots and hollers straight towards Krin and Shiro. The pelican crashed against the counter screamed with a booming voice carried within his giant chin.

"Hey lizard," he called, "Where'd you put Advanced Chemistries?"

Krin frantically grabbed for a red board and scribbled out, It's on the Science section of shelf B4.

"Hah," the pelican laughed out loud. He spun towards the cougar and spoke, “I told you this mute’s a funny one.”

“Hey,” the cougar dropped his arms onto the counter, facing the lizard, “You’ve got reference books enough for three of us?”

Yes, Krin answered, Would you like me to take it for you?

“No shit,” the cougar said, “That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?”

Without anything other than a polite bow, Krin wrote, Please give me a moment and promptly left the counter.

The trio continued building their portfolio of noises, persisting for quite a while before one of them noticed Shiro.

“Oh fuck,” the pelican said, “Check this out, it’s the wolf.”

“Oh fuck,” the cougar repeated after the bird, “It really is him.”

The badger, who barely stood as tall as the counter, jumped up, pushed himself over the counter, glanced towards the wolf, scoffed, and jumped back down.

“So you’re here all this time,” the pelican said, “You’re sixteen right? Didn’t see you in our classes.”

“H-held back,” Shiro answered as dignified as he could from his tiny stool.

“Damn. Tough luck,” the cougar said, “The Juniors don’t take kindly to people like you. Bunch of snot-nosed brats.”

For a split second, Shiro felt a comfortable synchronicity with the cougar's words, so much so that he had to hold himself from getting in over his head and indulging in a newfound understanding.

"Yea," Shiro forced himself from splitting a grin.

The pelican asked, "You just joined the club?"

The wolf nodded.

"You're gonna have a good time, man," the bird said, "I'm telling you, that lizard girl? She's a damn cow. You could milk absolute comedy out of her. Doesn't even know she's getting her back blown even with a mirror. You're gonna have a fun time with her."

"Too bad she looks like that," the cougar said, "I don't mind the rumps but can she even feel her own face?"

The pelican jabbed the cougar with his elbow, "You've ever seen her bald?"

"No fucking way," the cougar answered.

"Heard from some ape that someone pulled her hair in class when she's not a shut-in librarian yet," the bird said, "Whole thing came right off, scalp and all. Said it's a fake wig."

"What's under there?"

"A third tit for all I know," he said and turned to Shiro, "What do you think?"

In truth, it was all news to him. He never even heard of Krin outside the library. He knew she held a rather different appearance, but this was the first he'd heard of her reputation.

Shiro didn’t know what to say, "Uh…"

“Scratch that,” the pelican said, “What do you think of the lizard girl?”

“S-she’s okay,” he said.

The cougar raised an eyebrow, “Okay?”

“Hey, we don’t judge,” the pelican raised his wings.

Shiro understood what they meant, but opted to smile along anyway. They’re just teasing fun, after all.

Suddenly, the badger popped his head upon the counter and poked the pelican on his shoulders, “She’s back.”

Krin came around the corner, carrying a good stack of reference books below her chest. She rested it on the counter. Along with it, she picked up the device previously left unused by the bat.

“Yeah, yeah, I know the drill,” the pelican said as he laid the tip of his wing over the device.

Picking up her red board she asked, Is there anything else?

“You know what, the pelican said as he pushed the device away, “I do something else.”

He leaned in close towards Krin’s skull and, with the clarity of a pane of glass, he said, “Would you be so kind as to brew me a cup of coffee?”

Shiro didn’t quite believe his ears. Of all the things he’d hear of someone doing in a library, asking for a cup of anything from the counter wasn’t something he’d expect. He heard of worse things before, but never something so direct towards the staff members, at least this superficially.

What’s more, the lizard actually stood up and walked out of the counter, as per the pelican’s request.

“See,” the bird said, “She’ll do what you say. Literally.”

“Shit,” the cougar said, “You’re right.”

Shiro couldn’t comment on what he’s seeing. Compared to being told by the lizard herself, it was something he wouldn’t understand to its full effect unless he bore witness to it with his own eyes.

“First time seeing it, huh,” the pelican spoke to Shiro, “If it fancies you she could also do a little ‘something’ under the table. I never tried it; don’t think anyone in their right minds would but if that’s how you roll your balls…”

“And what,” the cougar commented, “Get war scars from it? Did you see her teeth?”

“Maybe that’s how he likes it,” the pelican joked.

“Yeah right,” the cougar replied.

For the barest glimpse of hope, Shiro thought it was just one huge inside joke he wasn't in on, and that Krin was one talented actor. Maybe that could be her roots; that her parents were just A-list actors with terrible biological compatibility to form an offspring and made the exchange for skills in looks. Shiro wouldn’t even mind if he was in one giant prank orchestrated by the lizard herself. The alternative was watching a tragedy written by the victim herself, experiencing everything from the front seat, basking in all its glory.

His hopes were swiftly shot down from the sky when Krin came back a minute later holding a paper cup full of muddy coffee and handed it towards the pelican.

"Ah, thanks,” the pelican said as he grasped the cup with his wing. His tone teemed with sarcasm so potent that you could hear the mischievousness roaring in laughter from behind his voice. Even the cougar was snarking openly beside him. It would take someone who's both blind and stone deaf to have it all fly past their head.

And there Krin stood, gleaming with her toothy smile permanently suspended by her jaw, giving no more than a nod and a You’re welcome to the pelican.

“Hey B.T,” the pelican looked to his side, “Try this out.”

The badger jumped up on the counter again. The pelican handed him the paper cup. With his wet nose, the badger gave it a sniff and slurped some of the contents through his long snout.

He immediately turned towards the lizard and spit the muddy coffee out onto the counter, dousing her uniform and her books in a rain of brown. The once proper and tidy set up Krin had was drenched into a wet, soggy bunch of unrecognizable text, with dull, damp splotches growing across the surface.

“Weak,” the badger said before he jumped off the counter.

Shiro shot up from his stool, winded up by shock and apprehension. He’d seen unexpected things throughout his time in the Academy, but this was one that made him bounce. This wasn’t just some troublemakers making their own fun anymore. He couldn’t find anything to say, as the mere conception of this act relied on so many breaching of common decency that there was nothing he could possibly convince the group of otherwise. Yet, what struck Shiro more than the badger’s move were the looks the others were giving. All of their eyes displayed genuine surprise. From the pelican and the cougar to the other people behind them wondering what the fuss was about. The scene was clear to see; a pelican with a steaming paper cup, a badger with a wet snout, and a lizard with a wet, coffee-stained uniform. Yet, they all looked towards Shiro with varying degrees of perplexity and bewilderment, as if Shiro was the one acting out of the norm.

Shiro tried to force out a word, “H-hey… y-y-”

“Hey man, what’s up with you,” the cougar said.

“Yeah, it’s just a joke,” the pelican said, “Calm down.”

Shiro was further sent down the spiral of his own puzzlement, seeing as not a single soul in the room held the same sentiment to the situation as him. He was like a man searching for familiarity in an alien environment with their own exclusive culture. From all the looks he’s getting, he might as well convince himself that it’s the opposite happening; that he was the wild creature who accidentally stumbled its way to another civilization.

In a way, he was that wild creature.

Then he felt a strong tug from his hips. He looked down and saw Krin pulling on his uniform. He couldn’t see her eyes, but he could tell who the slight shake of her wet, dripping head was directed towards. He was in disbelief for a moment, so much so that he felt as if the world was twisting over itself and turning inside out, changing everything, from its physical state and its culture, to its absolute opposite, and nobody bothered to send him the memo.

The lizard tugged him from his uniform again, this time with a stronger pull.

Stupefied by his own willingness, Shiro turned to the group, took a bow and said, “Sorry.”

Everything was reduced to a daze for Shiro as he sat back down to the stool. Krin dealt with the group. They left soon and just as noisily as they came. The lizard herself went away for a moment and came back a moment after with a change of clean clothes. He was stuck on his own processing the past five minutes that has happened; from the event horizon where the badger took a sip from the cup to the gazes he received when he stood up to the lizard tugging him from the behind; over and over again.

He found himself looking to his side as he ran his head, looking at the lizard. She seemed composed and virtually unfazed. She wiped the counter, cleaned her books, rearranged her set up and went on as if the past five minutes were nothing but the usual roses and rainbows. To top it all off, and from the wolf’s dimming ability to comprehend the sight before him, the lizard seemed to be in a better mood than before. Her tail was swishing harder, with her back sitting straighter than before.

"Y-you-" Shiro struggled to speak out.

Then Krin looked towards Shiro, and that was all it took to break the dam holding in the words. Her face was the same as before, with the smile ever-present on her jaw. It was permanent, as far as Shiro could tell. He had no say to the matter, but from his perspective, Krin looked to have no liberty over her expression. The wolf had no authority, but one moment’s worth of sight of the lizard’s smile made him spill his tongue.

“You know,” he said.

Krin didn’t answer as she kept her gaze down towards him.

“Why are you happy about it?”

She reached towards the counter and grabbed the red board.

They’re just looking for fun, she wrote.

Shiro had a hard time believing the words before his eyes.

If they can be happy in the end, she wrote, Then it’s okay.

Shiro couldn’t find words to say, he was already struggling to understand the ones Krin wrote.

I don’t mind if I’m used, she wrote, As long as the others are content.

Shiro asked, “You don’t feel anything?”

Krin tilted her head and wrote, Why should I?

It was then when Shiro understood.

Though the word ‘understood’ greatly undersold the click Shiro felt towards Krin’s writing. It was more like synchronization of two alien emotions, with only one matching wavelength between them to warrant such a shallow bind. He felt like a radio perfectly in-tune to her frequency, just that its contents were indecipherable to him.

To be put in frank and explicit terms, she was clinically insane; perhaps blinded by a personal obligation to serve her duty to the world around her, or just a glaring case of narcissism brewed by a twisted sense of selflessness.

Suddenly, Krin's offer for assistance felt a lot more different than before.

Shiro almost chuckled out loud from the absurdity. 

He thought of Romps’ words from yesterday night. It was neither a jackpot nor an act. But it was certainly an eye-opener.

He took another glance at the lizard’s toothy, dome-to-dome smile again. He wasn't sure what to feel about it. The chemical mixture in his mind was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. It was uncertainty, wonder, and confoundment; all thrown together and blended into one punchy cup for him to sink and ponder in to absolutely no avail towards any sort of understanding. All he could do was taste it in its entirety and let his own reactions form his expression.

At least she wasn’t dead set on seeing his insides spilt on the floor.

“No, it's fine,” he smiled to Krin, saying nothing else.

 

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