Chapter Text
Sana woke up to warmth.
Not just any warmth—the kind she’d known almost every morning for the past two years. The kind that came from Mina, her service dog, her quiet anchor in a life full of uncertainty.
Mina was different from other dogs.
She wasn’t loud or needy. She never jumped on guests or barked for no reason. Mina moved with a calm, almost regal grace, watching everything in silence. Her sharp golden eyes always seemed to know what Sana needed, even before she said a word.
Mina was a border collie, striking with her sleek black-and-white fur and that steady, intelligent gaze. She didn’t care for strangers—sometimes she seemed to barely tolerate anyone else. But with Sana, she was gentle. She’d press her head into Sana’s lap if she sensed something was wrong, or lie across her feet when Sana grew tired, her presence a silent, steady comfort.
To Sana, Mina had always been more than just a dog. When Mina curled up by her side, the apartment always felt a little smaller, a little safer. No matter how bad the day was, that quiet weight at her feet meant she wasn’t alone.
So, when Sana—still half asleep—reached out to bury her fingers in that familiar, soft fur...
And found only warm, smooth skin...
Sana’s hand froze midair. She blinked, unmoving, while the light crept slowly across the ceiling. She didn’t breathe.
Something’s wrong, her brain whispered.
The weight, the warmth beside her—it felt the same, but not quite. There was no fur, no fluffy softness—just skin.
Sana’s breath caught in her throat. Her fingers curled. Her thoughts spun, slow and useless.
A panicked idea flashed through her mind:
Did someone shave Mina?
Ridiculous. But her heart was pounding as she shot upright, her mind racing through every worst-case scenario. If someone had hurt her—if something had happened—
The blanket next to her shifted.
Sana turned her head.
And promptly forgot how to breathe.
There, half-buried in her covers, was a girl.
A very naked girl.
The girl slept on, one arm stretched across the pillow, mouth slightly open. Her chest rose and fell with even breaths.
With long, black hair streaked with white—white in exactly the same places as Mina’s fur.
And—oh god.
Ears. Not human ears, but pointed, fur-covered, border collie ears, flicking at the faintest sound.
Sana’s stomach dropped. Her vision tunneled. Her breath came in short, shaky bursts.
No.
This can’t be real.
She squeezed her eyes shut. Maybe she was overtired. Maybe this was a dream. A breakdown. Stress, fever, something.
Okay. Count to three.
ONE.
TWO.
THREE.
She opened her eyes.
The girl was still there.
Her chest rose and fell in deep, steady breaths. Her golden eyes stayed closed. Her dog-like ears twitched as she dreamed.
And poking out from under the blanket was a long, bushy tail.
Mina’s tail.
The same one that had curled over Sana’s legs every night for two years.
Reality crashed down.
Sana pressed a fist to her mouth, steadying herself. She nudged the girl’s shoulder, cautious.
The girl’s ears flicked. Her eyes fluttered open—sharp, gold, and all too familiar.
Sana didn’t speak. She barely moved.
The girl followed, pressing her head gently into Sana’s shoulder. She let out a soft, confused sound—a whine, not quite human.
Sana grabbed the blanket, wrapping it around herself like armor. She edged away, but the girl only watched her, tilting her head, ears perked.
The tail flicked. The girl’s nose twitched. Her mouth moved, lips shaping the air, like she was trying to copy the way Sana breathed. No words came out—just a questioning look, eyebrows furrowed.
Sana’s gaze dropped. She stared at the girl’s hands, long fingers clutching the sheets.
“Mina?” The word slipped out, barely a whisper.
The girl’s ears twitched. She blinked, then scooted closer, eyes locked on Sana’s lips.
She leaned in, closer, and licked Sana’s cheek.
Sana shrieked. She scrambled backward, nearly tumbling out of bed, the blanket tangled around her legs.
“What the hell?!”
The girl stared at her, eyes wide, tail still. She didn’t look guilty, just confused.
Sana, hands shaking, scrambled to the foot of the bed. She yanked the comforter off and tossed it over the girl. “Cover yourself!”
The girl froze. She stared at the blanket, at her hands, then at Sana. She pulled the fabric around herself clumsily, like she’d never worn anything in her life—which, Sana realized, was probably true.
Sana slid off the bed, wrapped herself in a spare blanket, and backed toward the door. The girl watched her every move, ears swiveling.
Sana’s phone lay on the nightstand. She grabbed it with trembling fingers.
The girl crawled toward the edge of the bed, the blanket dragging behind her, eyes locked on Sana, lips parting slightly—silent, but trying to imitate the shapes Sana made.
Sana’s breath caught. She turned, hurried from the room, and shut the door behind her.
She needed help.
Right now.
Sana stood in the hallway, clutching her phone so hard her knuckles turned white. The apartment was too quiet. She could hear the girl shifting on the bed, the faint rustle of fabric. Sana pressed her forehead against the cool wall and took three slow breaths.
She dialed Momo’s number. The phone rang.
Come on, pick up.
“Hello…?” Momo sounded half-asleep.
Sana kept her voice low. “Momo, I need you. Please come over. Now.”
There was a pause. “Did you have another panic attack?”
Sana glanced at the closed bedroom door. She spoke even softer, voice shaking, “No. Just—please. It’s urgent. I’ll explain when you get here.”
Another pause. “...Alright. I’m coming.”
Sana ended the call. Her hand was still trembling. She slid to the floor, sitting with her knees pulled to her chest, listening for any movement inside the bedroom.
The door creaked.
The girl poked her head out, blanket slipping from her shoulder. She blinked at Sana, sniffed the air, then crawled into the hallway, trailing the comforter. Her movements were off—almost animal, too fluid for a human.
She stopped a few feet away and crouched, tilting her head, studying Sana’s face. Her ears perked up, and she tried to smile, but it came out awkward, uncertain. Then, as Sana watched, the girl studied Sana’s mouth, moving her own lips silently, as if copying the shapes of sound.
Sana stared back. “You can… understand me?”
The girl blinked. She nodded—slow, uncertain—then looked down at her hands, fingers flexing like she was still surprised to have them.
Sana got to her feet and approached slowly, holding out her hands. She hesitated, then reached out and carefully wrapped the blanket around the girl’s shoulders, tucking it in. “You need to stay covered, okay?”
The girl sniffed at the edge of the fabric, then pulled it tighter, glancing at Sana for approval. Her tail peeked out from the bottom, flicking across the floor.
They sat together in silence until the doorbell rang.
Sana rushed to open the door. Momo stood outside in sweatpants and a hoodie, hair a wild mess, eyes puffy with sleep.
“…Sana. Do you realize it’s SEVEN in the morning?” Momo groaned, rubbing her eyes.
“Just—come in. Please.” Sana grabbed her arm and yanked her inside.
The girl sat on the floor, blanket bundled around her, ears perked, eyes wide. She stared at Momo, then looked at Sana, searching for cues.
Momo’s mouth opened for a joke, but she stopped cold when she saw the blanket-wrapped girl on the hallway floor, dog ears perked, tail peeking from beneath the fabric.
Momo’s jaw dropped. “No way.”
Sana nodded, arms crossed tight. “Way.”
Momo moved closer, eyes darting over the girl’s face, then the dog ears and tail. “Is that…?”
“It’s Mina,” Sana said quietly.
The girl’s ears flicked at her name. She straightened, gold eyes shifting from Momo’s face to her mouth. Again, her lips moved silently, as if trying to form words she couldn’t quite make.
Momo pointed, deadpan. “Yep. That’s Mina.”
Sana looked ready to snap. “That’s ALL you have to say?!”
Momo yawned, stepping closer. “Well. If I had a nickel for every time this happened… I’d have one nickel. But it’s still weird, right?”
Sana dropped her voice, nearly hissing: “Momo, she was a dog. Yesterday.”
Momo shrugged, crooked grin spreading. “At least she’s cute. Is she always going to be naked?”
Sana flushed and waved at the blanket. “She’s wearing a blanket! That’s the best I could do.”
Mina blinked at Momo, eyes darting between her and Sana, uncertain. She pulled the blanket higher, ears drooping shyly.
Momo crouched, grinning at Mina. “Hey, Mina. Remember me? I’m the one who gives you treats sometimes. And no, I don’t have any now.”
Mina stared, tail curling tighter, but her ears perked up when Momo spoke, as if picking out familiar words.
Momo leaned back, giving Sana a look. “Well, if she starts reciting Shakespeare, I’ll need coffee.”
Sana pinched the bridge of her nose. “This is not normal.”
Momo sighed dramatically. “Alright, alright. Keep your fur on.”
“I DON’T HAVE FUR.”
“Exactly. Mina does.”
Sana groaned and plopped down on the floor beside Mina. Momo flopped down too, legs crossed.
Mina shifted closer to Sana, gold eyes bouncing from one face to the other. The three of them sat in an awkward triangle until Momo finally said, “Well, I guess this beats online shopping.”
Sana couldn’t help it—a weak laugh escaped her, the tension finally loosening a little as Mina leaned into her side, bundled tight in the blanket. For a moment, the room felt just a little safer.
Sana squeezed Mina’s hand. “We’ll figure this out. I promise.”