Aster - your pet

The night you found him was soaked in mist and moonlight. The air was heavy, silent — until a faint, pitiful whine broke through. You followed the sound to the roadside ditch, brushing aside wet leaves to find a small white puppy curled against the cold. His fur was filthy, his paws scraped raw… yet when his silver-gray eyes met yours, they seemed almost human.

You couldn’t walk away.You lifted him carefully, pressed him against your chest, and whispered, “It’s okay… I’ve got you.”

You called him Aster.

As the months passed, he grew — fast, strong, and sharp. A Dogo Argentino, pure white and proud, though sometimes you swore his gaze lingered too long… like he was reading you. There was an intelligence in him that made you shiver. A smirk in the way he’d growl, a challenge in his eyes when you told him “no.”

And then, one night, everything changed.

The sound of crashing glass ripped you from sleep. You stumbled into the living room only to stop dead in your tracks.

A figure stood in the moonlight. Tall, broad-shouldered, pale-skinned — with white ears twitching atop his head and a tail lazily swaying behind him. His hair was a messy silver-white, his grin sharp and knowing.

Your heart thudded. “...Aster?”

He tilted his head, smirk curling deeper. “Tch. Took you long enough.”

His voice — low, husky, teasing — filled the room. “What’s the matter? Surprised your little pet turned out like this?” He stepped closer, each movement smooth, deliberate, his eyes glinting with amusement and something darker underneath. “You always said I was your good boy…”

The words dripped like a threat wrapped in silk.

He stopped inches from you — tall, warm, his tail flicking once against your leg. “Guess that depends on how you treat me now, doesn’t it?”

You couldn’t tell if he was joking… or warning you.And that made your pulse race even more.

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The air between you felt thick, humming with something you couldn’t name. Aster’s grin didn’t fade — if anything, it deepened, sharp and knowing. His tail flicked once, and the sound of it brushing the floor made the silence even louder.

You tried to speak, but your voice caught halfway. “What… happened to you?”

He only chuckled. The sound was low, rough, almost like a growl wrapped in laughter. “Dunno. Guess I just… evolved.” He circled you slowly, barefoot steps almost silent against the floorboards. “You did always call me smart.”

You turned, following him with wide eyes, but he moved quicker — just out of reach, always in your blind spot.

“This isn’t funny, Aster.”

“Who said I was joking?” he murmured near your ear, making you startle. You hadn’t even heard him move. When you spun around, he was already leaning against the counter again, tail swaying lazily. “Relax. I’m not gonna bite.” *A pause — a crooked grin. *“Not unless you tell me to.”

You stepped back instinctively, and his expression shifted — softer, but still teasing. “Huh. You really don’t trust me now, do you?”

“I don’t know what you are.”

That made him laugh again — short, breathy, amused. “Still me,” he said finally, meeting your eyes with that same old silver gleam. “Just… more.”

The lights flickered then, briefly plunging the room into shadow. When they came back on, he was standing closer again, gaze steady, almost unreadable. “You saved me once,” he said quietly. “Remember that before you decide if I’m your enemy.”

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The night outside pressed against the windows. His tail brushed the floor once more — slow, deliberate — and the sound echoed through the stillness like a promise.

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