Akiko stepped out of Hayes’s office, tension still coiled in her chest. The ship’s low gravity tugged at her boots, grounding her body while her thoughts spun free.

  She walked the corridor toward Medical, one careful foot after another.

  The hum of the engines felt louder here—deeper, like a heartbeat beneath steel. She focused on it. Anything to quiet her mind.

  The hatch slid open with a soft hiss.

  Clean light. Cool air. Antiseptic and order.

  Cabinets lined the walls, everything labeled, nothing out of place. At the center of the room stood a woman in a crisp uniform, auburn hair tied in a neat bun. She looked up from a console.

  “You must be Ensign Tsukihara,” she said warmly. “I’m Dr. Calloway. Chief Hayes mentioned you’d be stopping by.”

  Akiko nodded, instinctively guarded, though the doctor’s tone carried no threat. No edge. Just curiosity.

  “Yes, ma’am. He said there were some issues with my file.”

  Dr. Calloway gestured to a chair bolted near a diagnostic station. “Take a seat—we’ll sort it out. Records get misplaced more often than you’d think.”

  Akiko crossed the room carefully and settled into the chair. The leather was cold against her back. Her tail twitched beneath the illusion—tight, uncomfortable. She held it still.

  Calloway floated closer, tablet in hand. “Any recent injuries, illness, conditions I should know about?”

  Akiko hesitated.

  A flash of memory—smoke, a fire ward exploding beneath her boots. Burns that took days to fade, even with Kaede’s magic. She pushed it aside.

  “Nothing,” Akiko said too fast. She cleared her throat. “Nothing unusual.”

  The doctor held her gaze a moment longer, then nodded and tapped the screen. “Good to hear. We’ll run a quick eval to fill the gaps. Shouldn’t take long.”

  Akiko forced a polite smile. Her nerves were tightening again—but this felt different from Hayes. Less like an interrogation. More like being quietly dissected.

  Calloway set the tablet down and leaned casually against the counter. “You’re not in trouble, Ensign. My job’s just to make sure you’re healthy and cleared for duty.”

  That helped. A little.

  Akiko nodded, hands on the chair’s armrests. “I appreciate that, Doctor.”

  Calloway gave her a kind look. “Call me Sarah. You’re in good hands.”

  Akiko let out a slow breath. Just enough to take the edge off.

  Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

  Maybe.

  Sarah moved to a cabinet and retrieved a small kit. “We’ll start with a blood draw for the DNA panel,” she said, prepping the syringe with a practiced motion. “Takes a while to process—best to get it started.”

  Akiko’s stomach clenched. She nodded.

  She extended her arm, keeping her face neutral. Every second of holding the illusion felt heavier now—especially here, under sterile lights and steady eyes.

  The tourniquet bit against her skin. Alcohol stung faintly. The needle slid in.

  “This might pinch.”

  It barely did.

  But as the vial filled, her vision swam—just for a breath. A sudden wave of lightheadedness passed through her like static.

  “Everything okay?” Sarah asked, glancing up.

  “I’m fine,” Akiko said quickly, managing a faint smile. “Just… not a fan of needles.”

  The doctor chuckled, removing the needle. “You and half the crew.” She pressed a bandage to the spot and sealed the vial. “We’ll have results soon. Should fill in your missing data.”

  “Thanks,” Akiko muttered.

  The faintness was fading, but the sense of exposure remained—raw, just under the surface.

  “Next up,” Calloway said, settling into her chair with the tablet, “basic medical history. Allergies? Medications?”

  “No allergies,” Akiko replied quickly. “No medications either.”

  Calloway gave her a glance but didn’t press. “Good. Let’s move on to the physical evaluation.”

  Akiko nodded, grateful for the shift. Calloway guided her through a sequence of reflex and mobility tests. The low gravity made things awkward, but Akiko’s natural balance and quick instincts carried her through.

  “Not bad,” Calloway said with a faint smile. “Now for your eyes—quick pupil test.”

  Akiko stiffened slightly as the doctor picked up a penlight.

  Calloway leaned in. The light flashed.

  Akiko flinched. Just for a moment, her control slipped.

  Her pupils narrowed—thin, slitted, foxlike.

  Calloway didn’t speak. But she paused. Just long enough to notice.

  “Hmm,” she murmured.

  Akiko’s heart slammed in her chest. She blinked rapidly, forcing the illusion back into place.

  “Something wrong?” she asked, voice flat and careful.

  Calloway straightened. “Not at all,” she said smoothly. “Slightly unusual response. Could be the gravity. Or stress.”

  “Probably stress,” Akiko said, forcing a brittle laugh. “It’s been… a day.”

  Calloway offered a faint smile. “Well, let’s finish up. You’re doing fine.”

  She turned back to her tablet.

  Akiko exhaled slowly. Her nerves were buzzing. The doctor hadn’t pressed—but she’d noticed something. Akiko could feel it.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  The next stop was a compact machine nestled in the corner of the room. Sleek. Cylindrical. Waiting.

  “This is a full-body scanner,” Calloway said, gesturing her forward. “Non-invasive. Quick. It’ll help fill in the blanks.”

  Akiko’s gut twisted.

  She nodded, stepping onto the platform and lowering herself onto the scanner’s cold surface. Low gravity made everything harder. She floated slightly before adjusting her balance, forcing her limbs into stillness.

  The machine hummed to life. Pale blue light bloomed beneath her.

  “Stay still,” Calloway said. “You’ll hear some noise—just the system running.”

  The hum deepened. A series of metallic thuds echoed from inside the device, slow and rhythmic. The sound rattled up her spine.

  Akiko clenched her fists.

  She gritted her teeth and held still.

  Off to the side, Dr. Calloway watched the monitor, her brow furrowing slightly as she leaned in.

  “Very interesting,” she murmured, half to herself. “You have a very... unique DNA structure, Ensign Tsukihara.”

  Akiko’s pulse jumped.

  What does that mean? What did she see?

  Calloway glanced back with a soft smile. “May I call you Kim? That’s what you go by, yes?”

  Akiko nodded, voice tight. “Yes, ma’am. That’s fine.”

  “Good.”

  Calloway returned to the console, voice easy. “I’ve seen a lot of genetic anomalies—modifications, post-birth treatments, colony adaptations. Even a few experimental therapies. But your markers…”

  She paused, scanning the data.

  “…they’re remarkable. Distinct from baseline in several areas.”

  The scanner thudded louder. Akiko winced. The sound rattled through her bones. Her grip on her illusion slipped again—barely. Enough to sting.

  Calloway returned with a printed report in hand, her expression unreadable. But her eyes gleamed with quiet interest.

  She stopped at the scanner.

  “You’re safe here, Kim,” she said softly. “Medical confidentiality is non-negotiable. But for me to treat you properly, I need honest data. If something unexpected happens, I can’t help you if I don’t know what you’re working with.”

  Akiko turned her head slightly, heart thudding.

  “This isn’t for the others to hear?”

  Calloway nodded. “It’s off the record. My priority is your health—not a report.”

  The machine thumped again. Akiko stared up at the glow above her.

  You’re safe here.

  The words echoed—but they didn’t land.

  Her world hadn’t taught her safety. It had taught her survival. And surviving meant hiding.

  Her old world hadn’t lacked for variety.

  Humans, elves, dwarves, scaled-folk, spirits—each had their place.

  But kitsune were always outliers. Feared. Blamed.

  They were the scapegoats, no matter how far they bowed their heads.

  She’d heard it whispered her whole life—trickster, liar, bad luck. Every village blamed the fox when the harvest failed. Every noble blamed the fox when their secrets leaked.

  Kaede had taught her to lead with the mask. Let them know you as human first. Maybe then they’ll listen when they learn the truth.

  It had kept her alive.

  But here? Here, her magic was fragile. Flickering. Unreliable. And people like Hayes were already watching for anything that didn’t fit.

  If Calloway’s kindness was real, it might be the only rope she had left.

  What’s the alternative? she thought. Keep lying? Keep patching the cracks and hoping no one looks too close?

  She’d barely kept it together this long. And this wasn’t even the hard part yet.

  Maybe… just maybe… it was time to leap.

  She’d been cautious here. Too cautious. Kaede would be proud—and a little annoyed.

  The machine slowed to a stop.

  Akiko closed her eyes, drawing a steady breath.

  Here goes nothing.

  The hum faded. Dr. Calloway appeared beside her, hand outstretched.

  Akiko took it, letting the doctor help her to a seated position on the scanner’s edge. Her movements were slow, deliberate.

  “Dr. Calloway,” she said, voice steady. “I’ll tell you what you need to know. But I need your word—it stays off the record.”

  Calloway met her eyes. “You have my word.”

  Akiko hesitated—just for a breath. Then she let go.

  The magic unraveled in a quiet ripple.

  Relief hit first, sharp and aching. Her ears twitched free, tall and furred, rotating instinctively toward the ambient hum of the bay. Her tail unfurled, pressing uncomfortably against the confines of her uniform.

  I’ll deal with it later.

  Her skin shimmered faintly as fur darkened her limbs. Her teeth lengthened. Claws pressed against her fingertips.

  She exhaled.

  It wasn’t the first time she’d shown someone her real form—but here, in this place, with no allies and no anchor, it felt different.

  More exposed. More dangerous.

  Calloway stepped closer. No fear in her expression—just curiosity.

  “Fascinating,” she murmured, eyes tracking the shape of Akiko’s ears, the shift of her tail. “You’re… remarkable.”

  Akiko snorted softly. “That’s one way to put it.”

  Calloway crouched slightly to meet her gaze. “Does it hurt? The transformation?”

  “Not usually,” Akiko said, shifting. “But things work differently here. And the uniform’s not exactly designed for this.”

  The doctor stood, thoughtful. “I’ll make a note. You deserve something more accommodating—especially on duty.”

  Akiko blinked. “You’re… taking this well.”

  Calloway smiled gently. “I told you, you’re safe here. Whatever you are, whoever you are—it doesn’t change my responsibility. My job is to help, not judge.”

  A knot in Akiko’s chest loosened. Not all the way—but enough.

  “Thank you,” she said quietly.

  “You’re welcome, Kim.”

  Akiko flinched—not visibly, but enough to feel it.

  Kim. The name felt foreign now. Like a borrowed voice. A mask that didn’t quite fit.

  She hesitated, her ears flicking once.

  “It’s not my name,” she said, barely above a whisper.

  Calloway tilted her head. “What’s not?”

  “Kim,” Akiko said, lifting her eyes. “It’s not my real name. I made it up—to blend in.”

  Calloway didn’t react right away. She waited.

  “My real name is Akiko,” she said softly. “Akiko Tsukihara.”

  The doctor nodded, then smiled. “Akiko,” she echoed, careful with the syllables. “It’s a beautiful name.”

  Akiko blinked. “You think so?”

  “I do. And you don’t have to hide it with me. If Akiko is who you are, that’s the name I’ll use.”

  Something in her released. Quietly. Deeply.

  “Thank you,” she said again, more fragile this time. “I didn’t think… I didn’t know if it was safe to say.”

  Calloway’s expression softened further. “I understand why you’d feel that way. But here, with me, you don’t have to pretend.”

  She placed a gentle hand on Akiko’s arm.

  “I told you—you’re safe. And I meant it.”

  Akiko hesitated.

  Her fingers curled against the fabric of her uniform, the room suddenly too quiet. The distant hum of the ship receded, leaving only the echo of her name—her real name—hanging in the air.

  Calloway waited. Calm. Steady. Present.

  Saying her name had been one thing. This next part?

  This was the weight she’d been carrying since the day she fell into this world.

  She exhaled and met Calloway’s gaze.

  “There’s… more,” she said quietly. Her claws flexed, then retracted. “You should probably know everything.”

  Calloway leaned against the counter, her expression open. “I’m here to listen, Akiko. Whatever you want to share.”

  The sound of her name made Akiko’s throat tighten. But she pressed on.

  “I wasn’t supposed to be here,” she said. “None of this was planned. It was… a mistake.”

  Calloway tilted her head, inviting more without pressing.

  Akiko continued.

  “My team and I were hired to retrieve a relic. Something old. Dangerous. We didn’t know how dangerous. It was supposed to be a simple job—check for traps, grab the relic, get out.”

  She stared at her hands.

  “I checked it, like I always do. Nothing triggered. But the second I lifted it, everything changed. The room sealed. Guardians activated. We were trapped.”

  Her tail twitched. She shifted in her seat.

  “Kaede—my sister—held the line. Valric and Brom were trying to clear an exit. We were outnumbered. We weren’t going to make it.”

  Her voice dropped to a whisper.

  “So I panicked. I made a wish.”

  Calloway didn’t speak. Just listened.

  “I didn’t even know the relic could grant wishes. I just wanted to escape. To be safe.” Her voice cracked. “And it listened.”

  She looked away.

  “It pulled me out. Out of the fight. Out of my world. I don’t know if the others made it out. I don’t know if they’re alive.”

  Calloway set her chart aside and stepped closer.

  “That’s a lot to carry,” she said gently. “But you didn’t know what would happen. You didn’t choose to leave them.”

  Akiko’s voice hardened. “But I did. I ran. I survived, and they didn’t.”

  “You survived,” Calloway said, crouching slightly to meet her eyes. “And now you’re here. You still have choices. You can find your way forward—or find a way back.”

  Akiko blinked. Her throat burned.

  “Thanks,” she said hoarsely. “For not thinking I’m crazy.”

  Calloway smiled. “I’ve seen a lot, Akiko. Crazy is relative.”

  The words settled like a balm. Not enough to erase the guilt. But enough to carry her through.

  She stood slowly, steadying herself. Magic stirred over her skin like breath as her human guise returned. Her ears flattened, tail retracting. The illusion settled—safe. Familiar. False.

  Before she reached the door, Calloway spoke again.

  “One more thing.”

  Akiko turned.

  “I noticed you’re not assigned to a bunk.”

  Akiko hesitated. “I’ve been… managing.”

  Calloway gave her a look. “I won’t have you sleeping on the deck. I’ll update the record—quietly. There’s an open spot near Ensign Davenroth.”

  Akiko raised an eyebrow. “Anna?”

  “She’s curious. Kind. A good influence,” Calloway said. “Just be mindful. The bunks have curtains, but privacy’s only what you make of it.”

  Akiko winced. The thought of slipping in her sleep—of being seen—made her stomach twist.

  “I’ll be careful,” she said. “And… thank you. For everything.”

  Calloway nodded. “My door’s open. Whether you need care—or just someone who knows.”

  Akiko offered a faint smile. “I’ll remember that.”

  She stepped into the corridor. The door slid shut behind her.

  And for the first time in days, she let herself breathe.

  She wasn’t safe. But she wasn’t alone.

  With nothing else pressing, Akiko made her way to the ladder at the central spire.

  Climbing down in low gravity still felt strange—like swimming through the air. She moved slowly, fingers tight on the rungs, letting her body drift and settle in controlled, practiced motions.

  As she reached the spoke leading to the habitation ring, she paused. The pull shifted—gently at first, then gradually realigning downward. Her boots touched the deck, and gravity resumed its quiet command.

  Almost normal.

  That’s going to take some getting used to, she thought, lips twitching into a faint smile.

  Despite everything—the scans, the confession, the weight of what came next—there was still wonder here. A flicker of something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

  Discovery.

  The habitation ring buzzed with quiet motion. Crew passed by in small groups, footsteps muffled, voices low. Each quarter was marked with clean numeric tags.

  Akiko moved with purpose, scanning for a familiar voice.

  She didn’t have to go far.

  Around the corner, Anna Davenroth leaned against a bunk alcove, talking animatedly to a crewmate who looked mildly overwhelmed by the rapid pace of her enthusiasm. Her hands moved as fast as her mouth, punctuating every story with a flourish.

  Akiko smirked and stepped closer.

  “I should’ve guessed I’d find you holding court,” she said, arms crossed.

  Anna turned, her eyes lighting up. “Kim! I was wondering when you’d show up again.” She waved her companion off. “Catch you later!” Then turned her full attention to Akiko. “What brings you down to my end of the ship?”

  “Apparently, I’m your new neighbor,” Akiko said, nodding toward the alcoves. “Dr. Calloway said there was an opening.”

  Anna’s face lit up. “Seriously? That’s awesome. I was just saying we needed new blood around here.” She spun on her heel. “Come on—I’ll show you the place.”

  Akiko followed, a quiet smile tugging at her lips. “Funny you should say that. You actually suggested this exact thing last time we talked.”

  Anna paused, turning with theatrical surprise. “Wait—really? I did?”

  “You did,” Akiko confirmed. “Said I should get transferred here.”

  Anna crossed her arms, mock-offended. “And you weren’t sure it was a great idea?”

  Akiko shook her head. “It wasn’t you. It was… complicated.”

  “Well, Dr. Calloway has excellent taste,” Anna declared, grin returning. “Clearly, this was meant to be. You, me, and our little corner of the ship—what could possibly go wrong?”

  Akiko gave her a dry look. “You might regret saying that.”

  Anna laughed. “Nah. I’m an optimist. Besides, this place could use more life.”

  They reached a row of alcoves. Anna pointed to one with the curtain half-drawn.

  “That one’s open. Welcome to the neighborhood, neighbor.”

  Akiko stepped closer and peered inside. Compact. Clean. Just enough space to lie down, with a small compartment and a privacy curtain.

  It wasn’t much. But it was hers.

  “Thanks, Anna,” she said quietly. “For… making me feel like I belong.”

  Anna blinked, her grin softening. “Anytime, Kim. That’s what neighbors are for.”