Makoto only knew the bare basics of where they came from. Found as a toddler, wandering out in the woods, as bare as the autumn leaves. Their whole life, they knew they weren’t the same as everyone else around them. They took to wearing oversized clothes, at the orphanage. It hid the darker markings up their legs, the strip of fur down their back that lead to their tail. The tail…they couldn’t hide that. It was too large. Between that, and the looking decidedly not-British…Makoto knew their name only for a memory, growing fainter as they grew up. A loving pair of voices, warm arms, and their name.
They had to wonder if maybe…maybe their parents abandoned their freak of a child. It had to be the only reason…right? Makoto wasn’t human, they knew that much for sure. They knew how other children looked, here in the orphanage. But the word haunted them nonetheless.
Everyday, a larger chorus of chants and hollers, paired with thrown stones or a chase that ended in fists and kicks.
It was just safer alone, safer away from everyone.