Our pain turned into a spectacle.
One person showed up first. Then another. Then another after that. They didn't come to help. They came to look.
They kept their distance for a while, lingering on the corners, peeking from behind buildings. Then they edged closer. Step by step. Until it felt like we were standing on a stage, and they were an audience watching some cheap tragedy unfold. Like we were in a stupid, grotesque show about a beastman and a hybrid who had lost everything.
And somehow, that wasn't even the worst part.
The worst part was the phones.
They held them up so casually, pointed them at the ruins, at Kazuo, at me. And every time, something dark twisted in my chest. I had this overwhelming urge to grab something and throw it straight at them. To make them leave. To force them to go live their own lives instead of feeding on ours.
What kind of bullshit was that?
Why did people enjoy this so much, standing there, soaking in someone else's suffering?
I couldn't understand it. And the more I tried, the angrier I became.
Today, a small group of brainless teenagers had gathered right across the street. They weren't even trying to hide it and stood there openly, pointing at us, whispering loud enough to be heard, breaking into ugly laughter.
Look, look, he really does have ears.
Ha-ha, crazy animal freak.
Stupid hybrid.
Yeah, yeah.
Should've known their place.
My jaw tightened until it hurt, and for a split second, I genuinely wanted to walk over there and scream at them. To tell them to shut up. To scare them. To do something. Anything. But I didn't move.
What would happen next once I lost control? If I slipped even for a second…
Would anyone suddenly decide to take my side? Of course not. They would see exactly what they had been waiting for - a pathetic, hysterical, dangerous hybrid.
I could already picture the headlines in the papers.
Hybrid attacks human kids.
And that would be it.
I'd be the one dragged away in cuffs. The one locked behind bars for touching human children. The taste of bitterness filled my mouth. It felt exactly like being an animal in a zoo, one put on display for entertainment. Never, under any circumstances, allowed to respond to provocation. Because everyone knew what happened when zoo animals became inconvenient, they didn't get second chances.
It was disgusting and dehumanizing.
Suddenly, a deep, guttural growl tore through the air, snapping me out of my thoughts.
"Get the hell out of here!" Kazuo barked, his voice vibrating with anger. "If you're here to talk shit, do it at home. If you're standing around, then help. Otherwise, get lost."
The teenagers immediately shot back a few insults and then scattered, laughter trailing behind them as they ran off down the street.
Of course, they ran.
Kazuo was towering, well over two meters tall, massive, built like a wall. A huge wolf, covered head to toe in soot and ash, dirt smeared into his fur, fresh scratches and half-healed wounds visible wherever you looked. In that moment, he must have looked terrifying. Like something pulled straight out of a nightmare.
But the teenagers were only a small part of our audience that day. The rest of them didn't go anywhere. They took a few steps back, far enough to feel safe, close enough to watch.
Yes, Kazuo was intimidating, but not that intimidating. They stayed, pretending to mind their own business, while very obviously staring anyway. Hungry for something to happen.
Then I heard laughter again. A man and a woman stood a little off to the side, arguing loudly over something on a phone, shoving it back and forth between them.
"Pass it here," the man said.
"Look at this! Holy shit," the woman snorted.
"Ha-ha-ha, that's dramatic."
"Good thing someone filmed it."
"So damn funny."
Kazuo froze for a second, then slammed whatever he'd been holding down onto the ground with a metallic crash that echoed far too loudly through the ruins. He turned and started walking toward them.
I honestly thought Kazuo was going to hit the man. And if he did, then there would be no coming back from that. I'd never seen Kazuo so angry.
"What the hell are you laughing at?" Kazuo snarled, his shaking with restrained rage. "Show me."
He didn't wait for permission, ripped the phone out of the man's hands, and stared down at the screen.
His ears flattened slightly. His jaw tightened. I saw his throat move as he swallowed hard. Whatever was on that screen, it wasn't stupid laughter anymore. It was something that made Kazuo's expression change in an instant. Something that wiped all the emotions out of his face and left behind that sharp, dangerous stillness.
I rushed toward him, leaned in, and looked at the screen.
Cold sweat ran down my spine.
It was me.
Covered in dirt and ash, I was holding something broken in my hands, something orange or red. In the video, I could clearly see tears dripping from my face, falling onto that ruined fragment.
I looked pathetic.
Horrifyingly, unbearably pathetic.
And now everyone could see it. They could laugh at it and show it around like entertainment.
I scrolled down.
I shouldn't have. I knew I shouldn't have. But I did.
People in the comments were mocking me. Saying it was funny. That I deserved it.
It was so disgusting that I thought I might throw up right there.
I lifted my head slowly, fear crawling up my throat, and looked around.
In that moment, it felt as if everyone was staring at me. As if every one of them had seen that damn video, read those filthy comments, and laughed. Laughed the same way those people online had.
I had tried so hard to live quietly. To stay in the shadows. To mind my own life.
And now they were taking everything from me, piece by piece.
The place where I'd worked. The place where I'd earned a living. The place that had been filled with people I liked. The place I'd thought of as home. The place that had made me feel safe.
They took it.
Now they'd taken the last thing I had left. The last thing I'd spent my whole life trying to protect. Hiding behind that mask. Staying unnoticed, staying invisible.
My anonymity.