"Xiao Yao, time to get up."

Ugh. So sleepy.

I knew it was Monday. But that hadn’t stopped me from staying up late last night. I savored the memory of yesterday morning’s lazy comfort with a nostalgic smack of my lips. Wishing wouldn’t help, though. Mom’s voice already drifted through the door. If I didn’t appear within five minutes, she’d break it down. At sixteen, having your mom yank off your bedsheets? Mortifying.

My name’s Luo Xiaoyao. High school sophomore. Male. Mom named me—she’s been an otaku since childhood. She claimed this name took all her wisdom and life’s effort. When I eagerly asked its meaning, she grinned:

"See, the key’s the middle character ‘Xiao.’ It has two pronunciations. First tone? Sounds like ‘free and easy.’ Paired with ‘Yao,’ it becomes ‘Xiaoyao’—a solid boy’s name. Third tone? Sounds like ‘little.’ ‘Xiao Yao’—a girl’s name. So when you grow up, just switch the pronunciation! Boy or girl? Your choice~"

Yeah, right. She’d already dubbed me "Xiao Yao." Her intention was obvious. I loved otaku culture too, thanks to her. But honestly? I really didn’t want to be mistaken for a girl. So during every self-introduction, I’d force out:

"Hi, I’m Luo Xiaoyao." (They always wrote it as "Xiaoyao.")

—So cringey.

No matter how Mom spun it, the moment that second character became "Xiao," it reeked of cliché. Years ago, every RPG hero was named "Xiaoyao." Now? Hearing it felt like digging up decade-old slang. Pure awkwardness.

Focus. Time to throw off the covers. I reached up, gripping the blanket near my face. Maybe exhaustion made it feel extra soft today. Silky.

Reluctant goodbyes were inevitable. Monday demanded sacrifice. I mustered strength, yanking the blanket upward—

—Huh?

The "blanket" didn’t budge. Like shaking loose cotton, it floated off me briefly… then settled back down. Gentle. Like Mom’s palm patting my shoulder to wake me.

—This wasn’t a blanket at all!

My eyes snapped wide open. I sat up. Holy crap—what was this?!

Snow-white, fluffy tails draped over my body. Nine of them. Warm as a quilt, each strand of fur distinct and luxurious—like giant calligraphy brushes. As my senses cleared, I felt more than just the pleasant brush of fur on bare skin. Strange nerve endings tingled… right at my tailbone.

Uneasy, I willed them like arms. Unbelievable. The tails lifted gracefully, arcing through the air before settling aside. Reality crashed in: *These were my tails.*

Even coiled, their bulk hid most of my body. To inspect my tailbone, I needed the floor-length mirror. Thankfully, the tails obeyed my nerves. Legs and tails negotiated space carefully—I didn’t get tangled.

Weirdly, controlling them felt natural. Effortless. My whole body felt lighter too, like I might float. Last night’s dinner? Normal. No stimulants. A flicker of dread whispered: *Life’s about to change.*

But the mirror shattered my expectations. *Who the hell was that?!*

A girl of thirteen or fourteen stared back. Delicate features already held a hint of allure. Yet her beautiful burgundy eyes were wide with panic. My first thought: *Wrong place. Escape.* I took shaky breaths. Nope. My room. Familiar posters. Fear eased slightly. I looked closer.

Pale cherry-blossom hair cascaded past her waist. A petite frame—barely 140cm—but legs stretched long and slender. Her waist curved perfectly, outlining a figure far too mature for her age. This girl? One word: *bombshell.*

But nothing matched *me*. Not a single feature. Only the low-cut cartoon pajamas and gray boxers felt familiar.

I tilted my head sideways. Raised my right hand. Cupped beneath my chest like holding a tray.

*IS THIS REALLY ME?!*

Calm down. Finish looking. I shook my head hard. This wasn’t vanity—it was panic. I’d forgotten the *other* part. The non-human part.

There they were. Two fluffy beast ears atop the girl’s head. Same fur as the tails. I reached up, pinching one gently.

"...Mmph!"

Yep. Attached. I plopped onto the floor, tailbone throbbing. Pressure built urgently below.

*Note: Morning bladder + surprise = bad combo.*

I scrambled up, turned, and counted in the mirror. One, two, three… nine. Snowy tails sprouted from my spine. Ears. This seductive vibe. One name flashed in my mind:

*Nine Tailed Fox.*

Unbelievable. Mythical creatures didn’t just… appear. Folktales painted them as seductresses—corrupting kings, drowning nations in chaos… until heroes beheaded them.

—So.

I tilted my head back, face twisted in agony. Inside, I wailed with the most tragic voice humanity could muster:

*I don’t want to be a fox spirit! I don’t want wine pools and meat forests with rulers! I don’t want to get beheaded!!!*

My imagination spiraled. Would the government weaponize me? Send me to corrupt M-country’s leaders? A Black man’s face flashed in my mind—his grin as blinding as black toothpaste ads.

—Wait, Obama’s almost out… so maybe the next—NO. WHAT AM I THINKING?!

Slumped on the floor, I whined in this soft, pitiful voice: "Gods… I’m a boy…"

"In one week, you won’t be."

A calm, icy voice came from the window. A pitch-black cat sat there, licking its paw. Golden slit-pupiled eyes locked onto mine. "But you have seven days. Enough to settle your mortal affairs."

—Huh? What did that mean?

Weird. Yesterday I was normal. Today, a talking cat appeared—and my first thought wasn’t *"Holy crap, talking cat!"* but dissecting its words. Guess seeing your own nine-tailed reflection rewired priorities. Like… after touring a military base, would a police station scare you?

…Unless you’d committed a crime.

A strange shiver ran through me. Itchy. Then stillness. I was back.

I lunged for the mirror. 170cm. Light hair. My sharp, handsome face. *Me.* The cat’s words clicked: that transformation was a preview. A one-week grace period. Dismissing it as a dream? I wasn’t that naive. I believed.

Because controlling those tails had felt… real. Natural.

"Xiao Yao~! One more minute and I’m stripping that bed!"

Otaku Mom jiggled the doorknob, then beamed in. No time to hide. I stayed frozen before the mirror.

"Eh? Admiring yourself? Silly~ My Xiao Yao’s already the cutest, handsomest boy. No mirror needed. Breakfast’s ready!" She teased, then left.

I exhaled. Safe. For now. I glanced at the window. Empty.

Sprawled on the floor again, emotions tangled. A thousand thoughts condensed into one whisper:

"I’m a boy…"