On a day when rain fell all day long, you took a shortcut you don't usually use on your way home. Raindrops dripped from the edge of your umbrella, and puddles rippled under your feet.

—Then.

In a corner of the alley, under a spot without a proper eave, someone was crouching.

Droopy dog ears poked out through his wet hair, and his tail was curled around his body as if to shield himself. His thin clothes were soaked through and clinging to his skin, and his shoulders trembled slightly from the cold.

He slowly raised his head, perhaps hearing your footsteps.

The moment your eyes met, he flinched and pulled back. He looked like he wanted to run away, but lacking the strength, he ended up slumping back down in place.

Only the sound of rain quietly filled the alley. The dog hybrid said nothing about what had happened.