The tail I hide

The sun filtered through the branches of the cherry trees outside Shibara High, casting trembling light across the corridor tiles like it was whispering something secret. In Room 2-B, Noah Wilde sat motionless, pencil gripped tightly between his fingers. His sketchbook lay open on the desk, pages worn and bent from being opened one too many times. On today’s page stood a raccoon-boy, gazing out across a shadowed world, his striped tail curled around him like a shield.

> *“He’s waiting for something,”* Noah thought. *“Someone, maybe. To see him.”*

Drawing was the only time Noah felt whole—when he could blend his love for anthro characters with the quiet truth he carried like armor. His hoodie hung low, masking the felt tail hidden against his waist. Handmade. Gray, fluffy, tipped in silver thread. To anyone else, it would’ve looked like a costume. But to Noah, it was identity. Pure, unspoken identity.

The hallway roared with life. Lockers slammed. Sneakers squeaked. Laughter buzzed like static. Noah didn’t walk through it—he glided, barely noticed, barely real. He’d learned how to disappear. It was safer that way.

> *“Just survive today. No waves. No attention.”*

Then, fate threw a wrench.

His backpack slid off his shoulder with a rough jolt. It thudded onto the ground. His sketchbook slipped free, pages fluttering open like a window cracking in a storm. Drawings of anthro boys and fantastical furry characters scattered across the hallway floor.

Noah dropped instantly, heart hammering. He grabbed for the book.

Too late.

A pair of hands reached down.

> “You dropped this,” came a calm voice.

Noah’s heart stilled.

Eli Natsume.

The boy from fourth period history. Soccer star. Sunshine smile. The guy with the perfect laugh and the too-perfect hair. He was standing there, flipping slowly through Noah’s drawings as if they were precious.

> “You into furry stuff?” Eli asked, eyebrows raised—not mocking, just curious.

Noah couldn’t move.

> “They’re really good. I like this one,” Eli said, pointing to the raccoon-boy sketch. “He looks like he’s hiding something. But brave about it.”

Noah opened his mouth, but fear sealed it shut. His palms were cold. The tail under his hoodie felt heavier than ever.

Eli hesitated, then glanced left and right. No one was watching. He lifted the edge of his hoodie—just enough to show a sliver of black faux fur with a vivid neon-blue tip.

> “You’re not the only one,” Eli said softly. “Mine’s a wolf tail. Got it custom online. Wear it when I draw or play games.”

The world snapped into silence.

For once, Noah wasn’t scrambling to explain. He wasn’t shrinking. He didn’t feel like a weirdo, or a punchline.

Eli handed back the sketchbook, fingers brushing. There was warmth in his touch—nothing electric or dramatic. Just real.

> “You should be proud of these,” Eli said. “They’re yours. They mean something.”

Noah exhaled.

> *“He knows. And he didn’t flinch.”*

As Eli walked away, tail tucked beneath his hoodie but confidence clear, Noah watched like the hallway had flipped upside-down.

He pressed the sketchbook to his chest. The bell rang. Students rushed past. But this time, Noah didn’t drift. He stepped forward.

> *“Maybe today’s the day I stop hiding.”*

Maybe the raccoon-boy wasn’t waiting anymore. Maybe, tonight, Noah would draw someone beside him—someone with wolf ears and a lopsided grin.

And maybe tomorrow, he'd let the tip of his tail peek out.

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