The dog stood up. Walked to the window. The moonlight passed through it like water, and for a moment, Kirby saw through its shape — saw a girl in a hospital bed, hooked to monitors, her hand resting on the chest of a service dog that had never left her side. The girl had Kirby’s eyes.
The stream chat exploded. “THAT’S NOT YOUR DOG” “let him cook” “imskirby dog arc let’s go” Kirby muted the mic. “Who are you?” they whispered. imskirby dog
That night, when they started the stream, Hex was gone. The chat mourned for weeks. The dog stood up
But sometimes — during the hardest matches, when Kirby was about to give up — a cool nose would brush against their fingers. No one else saw it. The camera never caught it. The girl had Kirby’s eyes
In the doorway, sitting as still as a statue, was a dog. Not any breed Kirby recognized — lean, silver-grey, with eyes the color of old honey. No collar. No sound. Just… watching.
One night, after a particularly brutal loss, Kirby leaned back in their chair. “Hex,” they said quietly, off-mic. “Are you even real?”