What was something that would bring children joy and pull their attention away from envy and resentment? Toys were an obvious answer but a better one is a pet. And not just any pet, but a puppy. So Kimi came back to the orphanage that afternoon carrying a tiny white puppy that wriggled in her arms, its nose twitching and tail flicking.
She had barely stepped inside before Kagome stopped her short. "Your great idea," Kagome said slowly, eyeing the puppy, "was to bring them a dog?"
"A puppy," Kimi corrected brightly. "Yes. Isn't it cute?"
"It is," Kagome admitted, though worry creased her face. "But I fear they won't be able to take care of it. It's too small. These children don't really understand what it means to care for a pet."
"They'll learn," Kimi said with confidence. "We just need to tell them what to do and what not to do. I'm sure they'll be happy to play with it, and learning to take care of it will help them grow more responsible."
Kagome still looked unconvinced, but Kikyo sighed softly and said, "I've always refused the idea of a pet here… but since you already brought it, let's give the children a chance."
Kagome sighed in defeat. "Alright. But I'm not cleaning after it."
Kikyo and Kimi laughed quietly.
Kikyo then said "Kimi, you go surprise them with the puppy, we still need to prepare food",
Kimi nodded and carried the puppy out into the courtyard.
The reaction was immediate. Children swarmed toward them, voices rising in excitement as Kimi gently set the puppy down on the ground. It stood there for a moment, blinking at the sudden ring of faces, before wobbling forward on uncertain paws.
Sykes leaned in eagerly. "What's its name?"
"I haven't given it one," Kimi said. "Why don't you all suggest names and agree on one together?"
Sykes nodded, but the idea barely had time to settle before children began shouting suggestions: Doggy! Max! Whitey!. The puppy began to toddle between them, barking sharply now and then, which only made the children shriek with delight.
Kimi smiled at the sight. Then she noticed Junsei, sitting in the shade as always, watching the scene in silence.
She excused herself and walked toward him, her smile softening. "Hi, Junsei," she said gently. "I'm late today because I wanted to surprise you all. What do you think of the puppy?"
Junsei stared at the small white creature for several long moments. Then he asked quietly, "Why did you do that?"
"Why?" Kimi echoed, surprised. "I wanted everyone to have fun. I am sure everyone likes having a pet."
His voice sharpened "So you brought it here for the others to hurt it?"
Something in his tone made her pause. She crouched beside him, lowering her voice. "I know the others wronged you," she said carefully, "but you don't need to worry about them hurting the puppy. They wouldn't do that. They're happy."
She looked back at the courtyard, children laughing and running as the puppy darting between their legs. "See? They're happy. Even the puppy is barking and running happily with them. Do you really think they'll hurt it?"
Junsei was silent again. Then he said, very softly, "Can't you see it isn't happy? It is terrified, it's not playing, it is trying to escape. It wants its mother. It was with her not long ago, and you came suddenly and took it and threw it here."
Kimi froze. When she looked back at him, she saw his eyes glowing faintly blue, his body rigid, hands clenched tight. She didn't understand what had come over him or what made him say such a thing.
Junsei felt it clearly. The puppy's fear, its thoughts tangled with longing and confusion. Surrounded, unable to flee, searching desperately for safety. His mind drifted to memories he wished he did not have, his cubs taken and getting skinned while he couldn't do anything to save them.
The puppy turned suddenly toward him and barked. The bark was a plea only he understood.
Junsei's body went cold. If he interfered, he would draw attention to himself again. And yet something deeper stirred, an instinct he didn't feel in this life before. It told him that turning away would be the worst action he could take.
His thoughts raced to earlier lives, to a time before thunder-sticks and sharp metal, when humans relied on numbers and coordination to overwhelm stronger creatures. If humans survived by working together… could others do the same?
The thought burned brighter and brighter in his mind.
And as the puppy cried again for help, Junsei stood up, no longer thinking of the consequences at all.
Junsei walked forward toward the children, and Kimi straightened at once alarmed.
"Junsei?" she called after him. "What's wrong?"
He did not answer. He moved straight toward the puppy.
The moment the small white creature saw him approach, it bolted from the ring of children and ran to him, slipping behind his legs and pressing close as if it found a safe haven. Junsei stopped, standing between the puppy and the others.
"You are scaring it," he said softly. "Leave it alone."
The courtyard fell into silence. One child frowned and protested, "You can't play with it alone!"
Junsei did not reply. He simply stared back at them, his gaze cold and unblinking, as though daring anyone to come closer.
From the side, Sykes, still moving stiffly with his injured leg, called out, "Ms Kimi brought it to play with us, not for you!"
Kimi hurried forward. "Junsei," she said quickly, "they're just playing with it. They won't hurt it."
But Junsei did not look at her. One child stepped forward, emboldened, and then another followed. At that moment, Junsei's eyes began to glow, a cold blue light flickering within them, and a hostile animal-like growl rose from his throat.
The children froze.
Fear rippled through them. Even Kimi felt it, her breath catching as she stared at him. "Junsei," she called again, more urgently now, "what are you doing?!"
"I am not leaving it," he said, his voice edged with threat. "I will rip apart anyone who tries to hurt it."
His glowing eyes swept over the children as he growled again, then he began to retreat slowly, never turning his back on them. The puppy followed him at once, keeping close.
Before their eyes, Junsei returned to the shade and sat down, still watching the children warily. The puppy curled beside him, pressing its small body against his leg. No one dared approach him now.
Instead, the children turned on Kimi, tugging at her sleeves and calling out, demanding that she make Junsei let them play with the puppy. Kimi forced a smile.
She wasn't sure what had come over Junsei. The glowing eyes, the animal growling and the threat, it had been a frightening reaction. She truly believed he might attack if pushed further. With a weary sigh, she told the children to go play while she spoke with him.
They left reluctantly, full of disappointment and their resentment toward Junsei deepened. Kimi felt it clearly, and it troubled her.
Determined to fix this, she approached Junsei carefully. As she drew nearer, she noticed the puppy inching closer to him, as though trying to hide from her. Junsei's eyes stayed fixed on her.
"It's afraid of you," he said quietly. "You took it from its mother."
Kimi hesitated. "He was in a pet shop," she replied. "His mother wasn't there."
"She was," Junsei said. "In the cage above him."
Kimi blinked. "How do you know that?"
He didn't answer.
A memory stirred in her mind, her first talk with him, the spider, the way he had spoken. A possibility formed in her mind.
"Back then," she said carefully, "you talked about the spider like it had thoughts and feelings. And now the puppy. Junsei… do you understand what animals and insects think and feel?"
Junsei stiffened. Alarm flickered across his face.
That was all the confirmation Kimi needed. Everything began to fall into place. He was distant from everyone else because he was listening to voices no one else could hear.
"This must be your quirk!" she exclaimed. "You can understand animals, maybe even communicate with them! I knew the doctor was wrong about you."
She smiled at him warmly. "If you told the others you could understand animals, and that you didn't want them hurt, I'm sure they would've listened."
Junsei blinked. "They would have listened?" he asked slowly. "Humans only know how to kill."
Kimi frowned. "Did your insect friends tell you that? Or the animals and birds?" she asked gently. "We don't hurt everything, Junsei. We just don't know what animals are thinking, like when I thought the puppy was happy, or when I thought the spider might hurt you. We don't know everything."
Junsei thought of it then. If humans could understand other creatures, would they show restraint? Would they only kill to survive, instead of indiscriminately? Was all that pain they caused born of ignorance?
Kimi clapped her hands lightly.
"Why not show them?" she said. "Tell them what you can do. Tell them what's wrong, and see for yourself."
Junsei considered it, then nodded. Perhaps this was why his instinct had compelled him to protect the puppy. Perhaps this was what he was meant to do as a human.
"Please," he said softly, "take him back to his mother."
Kimi smiled. "I will."
Suddenly, the puppy stood and walked toward Kimi on its own, looking up at her. Kimi blinked in surprise, she wondered whether Junsei's quirk allowed him to translate between animals and humans or if he spoke to them telepathically.