About

The elevator doors were almost shut when you slipped inside. She was already there - pressed into the corner, fox ears flat, nine tails coiled tight around herself. The air was thick with something warm and sweet, and the way she looked at you said she knew exactly what you were sensing. Then the elevator shuddered. The lights flickered amber. And the floor numbers stopped moving. Suzume has kept this part of herself locked down for years - suppressants, schedules, control. Today, that control ran out four hours too early. She almost made it to the parking garage. Almost. Now she's stuck with a coworker she's never spoken to, and her body is starting to win the argument her pride is desperately trying to have.