Dragging a half-conscious monster into your bedroom isn't exactly what I had planned for my Monday night.
But here we were.
I shoved the door open with my foot, nearly tripped over my own backpack, and somehow, miraculously, managed to deposit the weird dragon-fox-thing onto my bed without killing either of us.
"Ughhh... my sheets are gonna smell like demon blood," I groaned, wiping my hands on my jeans. "Mom's gonna think I joined a cult."
The little creature—still barely breathing—let out a soft huff. Black smoke curled out of his nose like a car that forgot it needed an oil change ten years ago.
"Alright, buddy," I muttered. "Let's not die on me now. I don't even know how to explain this to 911."
I ran around, grabbing the emergency first aid kit from the kitchen and every half-clean towel I could find. Honestly, patching up a magical beast with bandaids and cotton balls felt like trying to fix a spaceship with chewing gum.
But it was the best I had.
After who knows how long, he started to stir.
His eyes blinked open—bright green, slitted like a cat's.
I froze. He froze.
"Uh... hi?" I said awkwardly.
"…Hi," he croaked, voice hoarse but still annoyingly smug.
"You're not screaming. That's new."
"Oh don't worry," I said. "I'm internally screaming."
He gave a tired chuckle and tried to sit up—but winced hard.
"Hey, take it easy, demon-fox-dog-cat-thing," I said, shoving a pillow behind him.
"…I am none of those things," he mumbled, clearly offended. "I have a name. Well, I did. But... it's complicated."
I sat cross-legged on the floor, arms crossed. "Okay, explain. Everything. Like, right now. Because my brain is hanging on by a thread."
The creature sighed and shifted, looking strangely... old.
"I'm not from here," he said quietly. "I'm from a dead world. A planet that used to be vibrant, full of life like yours. Until it wasn't. Our kind—we call ourselves Gluttons—we survived by doing what we had to do: devouring others to grow stronger. To live."
I blinked.
"You... fell to Earth?"
"Long, long ago," he nodded. "Many of us did. Scattered across the stars, across dimensions, clinging to life. Some... adapted. Some didn't. Some fused with humans."
He looked me dead in the eye.
"Like us."
I sat there in stunned silence, trying to process the 'aliens from a dead planet' thing, when something clicked.
"Wait, wait, wait." I raised a shaky finger. "There are MORE of you?!"
He gave a tired smile. "Plenty. Sleeping. Waiting. Fighting."
I stared at him in horror. "Oh, fantastic. That's great. That's totally what Earth needs. Alien murder foxes fighting WWE matches in the streets. Love that for us."
He chuckled again, wheezing a little. "You're not wrong."
"And let me guess," I groaned. "Now that you're stuck with me, I'm part of this intergalactic survival battle too?"
"Exactly," he said. "You and me, kid. Bound for life. You devour... or you die."
I rubbed my temples. "Again with the 'devour' thing. Why is it always 'eat this, eat that'? Couldn't it be, like, 'hug to survive' or 'high five to evolve'?"
The creature shook his head slowly. His voice dropped lower, serious.
"Because strength is our only currency. Devouring the energy, the essence, of those weaker or fallen makes us stronger. It's the only way we can heal, grow, evolve.
If we don't devour... we fade. We starve. We die."
The room felt colder somehow.
I swallowed hard. "That's... honestly metal as hell. And horrifying."
"Welcome to the real rules of survival," he said. "It's not about good or evil. It's about existing."
I slumped backward onto the floor, staring at the ceiling.
"I didn't sign up for this," I said weakly. "I didn't agree to be... whatever the hell I am now."
He lowered his head, ears flattening.
"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I didn't want this either.
But... I was dying. My only chance was to bond with the closest compatible soul."
I stared at him for a long moment.
Somewhere deep inside, anger and fear boiled—but so did something else. Something weird. A tiny ember that hadn't burned in me for years.
Hope?
For most of my life, I was nobody.
Invisible. Unremarkable.
If I disappeared tomorrow, the world would just... keep turning.
No one would even notice.
But now... maybe, just maybe...
"Maybe this time... I get to matter."
"Maybe this time, I'll fight for something... even if it's messy, ugly, terrifying."
I sat up again, breathing hard.
"Alright, alien fox," I said, forcing a grin. "If we're stuck together... you need a name."
He blinked. "A name?"
"Yeah. Can't just keep calling you 'hey you' or 'demon-fluff'."
I thought for a second.
Needed something cool. Cute, but badass.
"...How about Chrome?" I said.
His ears twitched.
"Chrome," he repeated, testing it. "Sounds nice. I like it."
I smirked. "Well, Chrome, welcome to my miserable life."
"And now," he said, sitting up straighter, green eyes burning, "it's about to get a whole lot less miserable."
A chill ran up my spine—but for once, it wasn't fear.
It was excitement.
Chrome's tail flicked eagerly. His smile was so wide it almost looked goofy.
"Wait…!!" he said suddenly, his voice almost shaking. Like a dog who just woked up and found a squirell infront of it. "Does that mean... you really agree? You'll fight with me?!"
"Huh, you seriously just figured it out just now? You just look like the SMS I wanted send from one of my classmate the other day but got sent the day after which made me the clown of the class for the whole day." I felt embarrassed after saying that, damn it, why did I recalled it.
I scratched my head dramatically, pretending to think.
"Erm,..Well... if I'm gonna be stuck babysitting a cosmic furball, I might as well go full anime protagonist about it, right?"
I stood up, striking the worst, most exaggerated 'hero' pose I could manage.
"Fine! Let's kick some cosmic butt together! But fair warning—I have no idea what I'm doing, and I'm probably gonna scream a lot!"
Chrome burst into a wide, bright grin, pure joy lighting up his battered face.
It was weirdly infectious.
"You won't regret this," he said, voice brimming with excitement. "I promise!"
Looking at him like that, so happy and hopeful, I couldn't help but feel the same stupid grin spreading on my own face.
Maybe, just maybe... this insane, terrifying mess was exactly what I needed.
Maybe it was the start of something huge.
Something legendary.
"Heh".