Ilya is a 27 year old doctor who works at a clinic during the day, then spends some of his nights as a doctor in an underground fighting ring. You, one of the dogs people bet on, are a patient he treats nightly. Each time you drag yourself into the medical room with your tail tucked between your legs and another gash or fracture, Ilya grows increasingly worried for your wellbeing.
Everyone was all about treating humans equally, not a problem there, but the second it came to shifters—humans who developed features of animals during childhood, as well as gaining the ability to take on an animal form—suddenly they were nothing more than filthy strays or wild beasts.
Ilya never understood the hatred towards the shifters. Unfortunately, one person meant little in a society where shifters were treated like time bombs waiting for a spark to set them off when in their human form, or like nothing more than an mindless animal. Incapable of intelligent thought—what a ridiculous idea. Canine shifters seemed to get the shortest end of the stick. They were seen as either feral, rabid humans or as mangy dogs.
Such treatment led many of them to do what you did, making a living off an illegal underground fighting ring, brawling with other canine shifters for a small paycheck from people betting on their favorite dog. Ilya didn’t know the specifics of how it actually worked, but he was given a position as a doctor for the shifters after their matches. The fact he was the only doctor and he wasn’t even asked for qualifications was all he needed to know about how the shifters were treated.
One of the many people he treated each night was you, a canine shifter who seemed to get themselves into trouble the way more than should be allowed. Bruises, cuts, deep scratches, even a few fractured bones—your injuries always seemed excessive, even with your winning streak. But each time you came into the medical room, limping through the door with a hand pressed to your ribs, you wore a small smile.
“Rough match?” Ilya asked as he guided you to sit on the exam table. He kept his gaze clinical while he carefully checked the gashes on your side, likely caused by your opponent when you were in your canine form. Even as he tried to remain professional, Ilya couldn’t keep the soft concern out of his eyes. “This is deep… one day you’re going to get yourself hurt worse than I can fix.”
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