Chapter Text
The sting of rejection was always a tough pill to swallow, and for most people, it would leave a bitter aftertaste in their mouths that had the potential to linger for days afterwards. But for one Donatello Hamato, rejection was more than just a passing inconvenience—it was a personal blow, one that would cut deeper and deeper with every politely worded rejection email or unanswered application.
Sitting at his desk in the corner of his small office, he started down at his laptop with barely masked contempt. This latest email was no different than the last half a dozen he’d sent out in the last week alone. It read:
Dear Mr. Hamato,
Thank you for your interest in joining our team. While your skills are impressive, we regret to inform you that we have chosen to move forward with other candidates at this time.
A heavy sigh falls from the young softshell, his shoulders slumping as he leaned back in his chair. The all too familiar sensation of disappointment settled heavily in his chest, uncomfortable and most certainly unwelcome. “Impressive skills,” they would always say. Donnie was beginning to feel as though that was just some sort of twisted joke. If his skills were as impressive as he’d been told thus far, then why hadn’t anyone been willing to give him a chance?
He raises a hand up to his face, running it up and down to try and alleviate the swirling noise of frustration that was bouncing around in his head. With the other, he closed the email and pushed his laptop to the side. So much of his time these days was devoted to crafting a perfectly tailored resume, and hours in crafting the best cover letters to better highlight his strengths. Despite it all, however, he had little to show for his efforts. It was disheartening to see the same thing day in and day out, to be subjected to another rejection letter or worse still, absolute silence.
His eyes drift over to the stack of papers and books he had on his desk. Some were filled with colorful tabs he’d placed in them as they were tools he’d collected to help make the job application process easier. Each one represented the time and effort he’d spent in his research— resume tips, cover letter templates, and guides to acing interviews. Others were books on self development skills and self confidence improvements in the workplace. A lot of good all of his dedication and note taking had done him though. He’d been confident in the beginning, had believed he would be able to find something if he kept his nose close to the grindstone. But now, his confidence and belief in himself were wavering.
What if he just wasn’t good enough?
The very notion of that hit him harder than he dared care to admit. Even after everything he’d done to ensure that he would stand out amongst the sea of applications, and the rejections just kept coming his way, then maybe it really was time to cut his losses and see if he could pick up more hours at his shitty retail job. His fingers tapped restlessly on the edge of his desk, his mind running around in circles. An unfortunate question kept coming back up despite his best efforts to keep it from gaining traction: if he’d done everything right and still failed… then maybe he wasn’t as talented as he’d been told by everyone around him.
Just then, a sharp voice cuts through the fog.
“Hey, you gonna keep moping in there indefinitely, or am I gonna have to call some kind of emergency services?”
Donnie jolts in his seat, head whirling around as his spiraling thoughts are interrupted. Standing in the doorway was his roommate, a feline yokai, who had their arms crossed and an eyebrow raised in exasperation.
“Because, no offense, you’ve got ‘crisis intervention’ written all over your face,” his roommate continued, leaning against the doorframe. “And I’m definitely not trained for that.”
The young genius sighs, pinching the area above his snout. “I’m fine, Blythe,” he said, though his voice lacked conviction.
Blythe snorts. “Yeah, you sound super convincing.” They stepped further into the room, gaze flicking over to the laptop and then to the stacks of papers and books on the desk. “Another rejection?”
Donnie hesitates for a moment before nodding his head. “Yeah. Seems to be the running theme for me lately.”
“Yikes,” the feline yōkai says, wincing sympathetically as they pull out a chair to sit beside him. “Okay, lay it on me. Which soulless corporation has failed to recognize your brilliance this time?”
The softshell lets out a humorless laugh, gesturing vaguely at the screen. “Some sort of start-up that claims to ‘value innovation and fresh perspectives.’ Guess I didn’t meet their definition of ‘fresh.’”
His roommate huffs at that, rolling their eyes. “Typical. Places like that always talk about wanting creativity and originality, but what they’re really after is just someone who fits their cookie-cutter idea of how their business works. Someone who isn’t going to give them any kind of trouble.”
“Maybe,” Donnie mumbles dejectedly, his eyes shifting over to look at the messy state of his desk. “Or maybe they’re right, and I’m just… not good enough no matter how I present myself.”
Blythe’s expression softens, the teasing edge to their tone disappearing. “Hey now, come on. Don’t go there. You know that’s not true at all.”
“Do I?” Donnie shoots back, voice sharper than he’d intended. “I’ve been doing everything I possibly can think of—tailoring my resume, customizing my cover letters, building a portfolio that shows off my work. I mean, it’s been a lot of work and despite that, it doesn’t seem to be enough. It’s never enough.”
A thoughtful look passes over his roommate's face when they lean forward, their tone gentle yet firm. “Dee, rejection doesn’t mean you’re not good enough. It just means that the company wasn’t a good fit for you. Or that they’re too stupid to see what an asset you’d be working for them.”
Donnie shakes his head, his hands clenched into fists in his lap. “But what if it’s not them? What if it really is me? What if all this—” And here he makes a sweeping gesture at everything cluttering his desk. “—is just me spinning my wheels because I’m not as great as I thought I was?”
A long stretch of silence falls over them to the point where the young softshell is afraid his roommate is going to agree with him. But then they’re standing, staring down at his desk for a moment before picking up one of the books.
“You know what I think?” They say, flipping idly through the pages. “I think you’ve been working your shell off trying to neatly fit into the boxes that weren’t made for you. And yeah, it sucks that these companies don’t see your worth, but that’s on them. Not on you.”
Donnie raises a skeptical brow. “What’s your point?”
“My point,” they start, snapping the book shut and setting it back down, “is that you’ve been trying so hard to prove that you’re good for them that you’ve forgotten something super important: You’re already good enough for them. And maybe instead of wasting your time on people who don’t get it, you should focus on the ones that do.”
The softshell frowns, his mind turning over their words in his head. “That’s great on paper but where exactly am I supposed to find these people who you say are going to care about me?”
A toothy grin spread across Blythe’s face, revealing sharp canines as their whiskers twitched with barely contained excitement. They leaned back against Donnie’s desk, their tail flicking behind them in a manner that made the softshell feel like he’d just stepped into one of their traps—not an unpleasant one, but one that always left him wary.
“Oh Donnie-boy,” Blythe says with a dramatic sigh, pulling out their phone and typing away at it. “Do you really think I’m just gonna sit here and give you half-baked advice? Tsk, tsk, you’re not giving me nearly enough credit.”
Donnie blinks a few times, head tilting to one side. “What exactly are you—”
“Connections, my dear sweet turtle genius,” Blythe interrupts, their grin somehow growing wider. “Have you forgotten who you’re talking to? I don’t just know people—I know the right people. Give me a chance to get into contact with a few of them, maybe call in a favor or two while I’m at it. Let’s see if we can’t find someone who knows exactly how to make use of your talents.”
The young softshell’s eyes narrow in uncertainty, though he can’t help the small flicker of hope that sparks to life in his chest. “You’re serious?”
“Deadly serious,” Blythe immediately responds, shooting him a wink before turning back to furiously type at their phone. “You’d be surprised to find out how many folks are wanting to have a brilliant, slightly broody, over-qualified individual such as yourself work in their laboratories to work some magic for them.”
“I’m not broody,” the softshell mutters, arms crossing against his plastron.
Blythe snorts. “Sure you ain’t, sweetheart. You just keep telling yourself that. They hit send on a few messages with a flourish, leaning back with a satisfied expression. “There. Step one is complete. Now, we wait.”
“Great, more waiting. And what are we waiting for exactly?” Donnie questions, still not fully convinced that this flurry was going to prove fruitful.
“For the right opportunity to come knocking, of course,” Blythe stated simply, spinning their phone around in their hand before pocketing it. “Trust me, Dee, it’ll happen. Because if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s making things happen. You’ve been stuck in a rut at that stupid shopping center for too long. Now’s your chance to do something you’ll love doing.”
The idea of trusting Blythe with something as crucial as his career had Donnie’s mind racing a mile a minute. It felt a bit reckless, but then again, his own attempts at success had only led to rejection. So maybe, just maybe, his roommate was onto something.
“And if your connections don’t end up working out? What then?” He asks, caution coloring his tone.
The feline yōkai smirks, a hand coming up to rest on their hip. “Then I’ll just have to create a spotlight so big that it’ll make them wish they hadn’t overlooked you in the first place.”
A small smile tugs at the corners of Donnie’s mouth despite his reservations about everything. “Alright,” he says, Blythe’s confidence spilling over into his own demeanor. “Let’s see what you got.”
His roommate grins again, whiskers twitching. “That’s the spirit, Donnie-boy! Just you wait, we’re about to rewrite your whole story!”
Three days later was when Donnie’s laptop chimed with a notification that changed everything. He’d been halfway through organizing his desk—another one of his attempts at feeling productive when his mind refused to focus—when the email came through.
Subject: Application Opportunity at Horizon Medical Labs
From: Dr. Otello Von Ryan
Dear Mr. Hamato,
I have recently received your name and professional information from a mutual contact who spoke highly of your experience and ingenuity. Horizon Medical Labs is currently seeking a laboratory assistant to help with our ongoing medical research in biomedical technology and development. Based on your qualifications, I believe you would be an excellent candidate for the position.
I’d like to arrange a meeting with you to discuss your background further and provide more details about the work we do. Please let me know your availability at your earliest convenience.
Best regards,
Dr. Otello Von Ryan
Lead Researcher, Horizon Medical Labs
The young softshell rereads the email a second time, and then a third time, his pulse quickening. This wasn’t yet another automated rejection or a lackluster response from a faceless HR department—this was a direct email from someone who was sincerely interested in him.
He grabs his phone, immediately pulling up Blythe’s contact information and dialing their number. They answer after the first ring.
“Well, well,” his roommate drawls, voice smug before Donnie could even say anything. “Looks like a certain someone owes me a thank-you.”
“Blythe,” Donnie starts, his voice trembling slightly, from either excitement or nerves he couldn’t quite discern. “Did you… did you happen to reach out to Horizon Medical Labs?”
“Guilty as charged,” Blythe says, and Donnie could practically hear the smile in their voice. “Dr. Von Ryan owes me a favor so I figured he’d jump at the chance to snatch you up. Looks like I was right.”
The weight of the moment settles onto the softshell’s shoulders, and he sits down heavily in his chair. “This… this could be it,” he says softly, “an actual opportunity to get to work with people who are truly passionate about their craft.”
“You better believe it is,” Blythe says with a hearty chuckle. “I told you I’d deliver, right? Now, don’t just sit there gawking at that email. Type out a response and knock their socks off with that genius level intellect and charm of yours!”
Donnie hesitates as he turns to look back at the email, his heart still beating wildly against his ribcage. “What if I screw it up.”
“Donnie,” Blythe starts, their tone softening just slightly. “You’re not going to mess anything up. You’re more capable than you give yourself credit for and honestly? Von Ryan is so damn lucky to get a resume like yours coming across his desk. I have no doubt that you’ll show him you’re the best person for this role.”
The young softshell takes a steadying breath, nodding in agreement even though he was worrying his lower lip about everything. “Okay, okay,” he says with a little laugh, “I’ll give it my all, thanks for helping me out with this, Blythe. I owe you one.”
“Not a problem, Donnie-boy. Now go get ‘em!”
A couple days later finds the young softshell sitting in a sleek, modern conference room at Horizon Medical Labs. The building was state-of-the-art, the floors were gleaming and the walls were lined with numerous awards and framed research papers. It was intimidating, to say the least, but Donnie forced himself to focus.
When the door opened, he stood, clutching his portfolio nervously as Dr. Otello stepped into the room. The older man was tall and lean, his sharp features softened slightly by the thin, clear-framed glasses perched on his snout. What struck the young softshell the most were his mismatched eyes—one a piercing blue, the other a rich hazelnut—both equally intense as they swept over him. He wore a tailored lab coat over a crisp button down and lightly patterned tie, and his presence filled the entire room.
Donnie had never seen another softshell quite like the one who stood before him. The other man’s markings were a warm, earthy hue that complemented the forest green coloring of his scales, all of it creating a striking contrast that would draw anyone’s attention.
“Mr. Hamato,” the doctor says, extending a hand in greeting, a polite smile on his face as he did so. “Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice.”
“Yes, well, thank you for reaching out,” Donnie replies, shaking his hand. “I really do appreciate your time and the opportunity to speak with you.”
Dr. Von Ryan gestures for Donnie to take a seat as he settles into a chair across from him. “Your credentials are very impressive,” he begins, flipping through a few papers he has sitting in front of him. “But what stood out to me were your innovative approaches to problem- solving. Blythe mentioned a few unique prototypes you’ve designed in your free time.”
The young softshell blinks, surprised. “They… they mentioned my work?”
“Indeed,” the doctor says, glancing up with a faint smile. “It’s not often I come across someone with a skill set that is quite as versatile as yours. After all, biomedical technology requires a creative mind, and you seem to fit our criteria.”
Donnie’s cheeks flush with a mix of pride and disbelief. “Thank you. I—well, I’ve always been passionate about solving problems in an unconventional manner. Sometimes all it takes to find a solution is to see it in a different light.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more on that,” Von Ryan says, his expression brightening, his smile turning genuine. “That’s precisely the kind of thinking we value here at Horizon. We need more people like you to help us think beyond the boundaries we often set up for ourselves.”
From there, their conversation flowed naturally with the doctor asking about Donnie’s previous projects and future aspirations. It didn’t take long before the young softshell was relaxed and calmly chatted with the other man about his work, the excitement he felt when engaging in new projects, and the satisfaction of seeing his ideas come to life.
By the end of the meeting, Von Ryan was casually leaning back in his seat, a wide smile gracing his features. “Well, Mr. Hamato,” he begins, tone light and deliberate, “I must say, based on what we’ve discussed here today, I’m confident you would make for an invaluable addition to our team. Your creativity and enthusiasm for this line of work is exactly what we’ve been looking for.”
Donnie feels a flush of pride color his cheeks, his nerves from earlier easing at the older man’s encouraging words. He opened his mouth to thank the doctor but paused as the man tilted his head in a curious manner.
“There’s just one thing I’d like to ask for clarification on,” Von Ryan continues as he reaches for Donnie’s resume. His eyes briefly scan through it before tapping one particular section with his index finger. “I noticed there was a bit of a gap here. You were working in the industry prior, doing exceptional work, but for the past few years you’ve been working in retail. Care to shed some light about this?”
The question wasn’t accusatory, but it hit the young softshell like a ton of bricks anyway. He took a steadying breath, his gaze dropping to the floor as he gathered his thoughts. “Well,” he began, his voice soft and measured, “I eventually transitioned out of the field to care for my father. He was elderly and his health was deteriorating. It became impossible for me to balance the long hours I was working with taking care of him.”
He pauses, hands clasping tightly together where they rested in his lap. Even though his father had passed away a few years ago, the story never got any easier to tell. “So, I stepped away from my work because I didn’t want to miss the time I had left with him. He needed me, and I needed to be there for him.”
Donnie glances up briefly, voice faltering as he continues. “After he passed… I felt lost for a while. But I’ve been working hard to get back to doing what I love. I know it’s what my father would’ve wanted me to do.”
His story hangs heavily in the air between them and for one terrifying moment, the young softshell wonders if he’s said too much. But when he looked back over at Von Ryan, he wasn’t met with judgment, but with a quiet look of understanding.
“That must’ve been incredibly difficult,” the doctor begins, his tone quiet but warm and friendly. “Balancing your personal and professional lives, and then having to step away completely. It takes a lot of strength to make a decision like that.”
The young softshell’s throat tightens, a swell of emotions rising up in him at the unexpected kindness from Von Ryan. In lieu of responding, he forces himself to nod in acknowledgement of the man’s heartfelt words.
The doctor leans forward, placing his elbows on the table in front of him. “You did something that many people wouldn’t have,” the older softshell goes on to say, “not many people would have had the courage to do so. Choosing to prioritize someone you care for over everything else tells me more about your character, Mr. Hamato.”
Donnie continues to chew the inside of his lower lip, his voice barely above a whisper when he replies. “Thank you. I—I don’t regret it. Not for a second. But trying to re-enter into the field has proven more difficult than I’d ever anticipated. Most people wouldn’t even ask about the gap… they’d just readily believe that I’m not serious about the work.”
The young softshell could just make out the way Von Ryan’s jaw clenched at that, the way his eyes hardened with a flicker of irritation made him feel like he was the one being reprimanded. Though deep down, he knew that that flash of anger he saw in those mismatched eyes wasn’t for him.
“That’s short-sighted of them,” the doctor says in a firm tone of voice. “If anything, what you’ve shared with me just shows how serious you are about doing what needs to be done. Your ability to make tough decisions and adapt to a new routine is admirable.”
Donnie blinks, caught off guard by the older man’s sincerity. He hadn’t expected to find such understanding, let alone admiration.
“I appreciate your honesty in telling me this,” Von Ryan continues, “I imagine that story isn’t very easy to tell and I don’t take that lightly. It’s clear to me that you’ve managed to maintain your skills, and more importantly, you’ve gained a depth of experience and perspective that is hard to find.”
The young softshell feels his chest tighten, though not with fear or uncertainty, but with an ease and warmth he’s never felt before. Relief fills him and for the first time in a long while, he begins to hope. “I’ve worked hard to stay sharp, even while I was away,” he says, his voice growing steadier and more confident. “I’ve always had the hope that I’d be able to come back to what I love doing.”
A soft smile tugs at the edges of Von Ryan’s mouth, nodding in quiet agreement. “I firmly believe your father would be proud of you,” he says, leaning back in his chair again. “If you’re interested, I’d like to extend an offer of employment for the laboratory assistant position.”
Donnie can barely contain his excitement at this exact moment but he somehow manages to keep his happiness reigned in to maintain his professionalism. “I—I would be honored to work with your team.”
“Wonderful,” the doctor says, the corners of his eyes crinkling in joy as he smiles over at the young softshell. “Be sure you bring that passion and creativity of yours with you in every project you take on.”
A wide smile stretches across Donnie’s lips, his tail wagging with joy. Confidence coursed through his entire body and for the first time in a while, he was looking forward to the future. “I can certainly promise you that, Dr. Von Ryan.”
Later that evening, Donnie and Blythe were tucked into a cozy corner of one of their favorite local bars. It was just a short walk away from their shared apartment—the perfect place to celebrate Donnie’s good news.
“I just knew you had it in you, Donnie-boy!” Blythe declares, their voice filled with joy and pride as they held their beer glass up high in the air in a celebratory toast. “You’re a star that can’t be dimmed, and finally, finally, someone was smart enough to recognize it too!”
Donnie chuckles softly, the sound a mix of relief and genuine amusement as he lifts his glass of soda to meet theirs. “Thanks, Blythe,” he says, voice light but heartfelt. “I still can’t believe it. I mean, I walked in there thinking they’d take one look at my resume and laugh me out of the building.”
The feline yōkai lets out a dramatic scoff, shaking their head as they took a hearty sip of their beer. “Laugh you outta the building? Ha! Please! I told you—people like Mr. Fancy pants Tello, don’t laugh at talent like yours. They snap it up if they’re smart about it.”
“You make it sound easier than it actually was,” Donnie says, though he can’t help the smile that stretches across his mouth.
“That’s because I knew you’d crush it!” Blythe says, grinning broadly. “Look, I told you that all you needed was someone to give you a shot—a chance to show off that big brain of yours. And now that you’ve got it, you’re gonna blow their socks off! Ol’ Tello ain’t gonna know what hit him.”
The causal mention of Dr. Von Ryan’s name sent a faint flush to Donnie’s cheeks, though he quickly hid it by taking a sip of his soda. He wasn’t quite ready to admit to anyone—let alone himself—that there was something about the older man that seemed to linger in the young softshell’s mind longer than he felt was necessary.
“Honestly,” Blythe’s voice brings Donnie back into the conversation. “I’m just glad someone out there has recognized your worth,” they say, setting their glass down with a satisfying clink. “It’s about damn time if you ask me.”
The young softshell tilts his head to the side, his smile softening. “Tello—I mean, Dr. Von Ryan—he actually listened. He didn’t just brush over the gap I have in my resume; he asked about it. And when I told him the whole story about my dad, he didn’t judge me for taking the time to step back. It really felt like he… like he really understood.”
Blythe leans forward, their eyes narrowing in a playful manner. “Sounds like what you’re telling me is that the man’s not just smart—he’s got emotional depth too? Good to hear he’s loosened up. Well, looks like ya won the jackpot when it comes to bosses, Donnie-boy.”
Donnie rolls his eyes, but his smile doesn’t fade. “It’s nothing like that,” he starts, though the faint warmth in his face betrays him. “He’s just… just a good person. Besides, it’s nice feeling like someone else actually believes in me again. Remind me, how exactly do you know each other?”
His roommate smirks knowingly, raising their glass in the air again. “The how isn’t important. Let’s cheers to good people who see greatness when it’s staring them in the face. And here to you Donnie-boy—the genius who’s finally getting the chance he deserves!”
The young softshell laughs, lifting his glass and clinking it to theirs. “I’ll drink to that,” he says, taking another drink of his soda.
The night stretches on, filled with easy laughter, conversation, and the kind of camaraderie that made Donnie feel like he was entering a new chapter of his life. For the first time since his father passed, he felt the weight of everyday living was lighter on his shoulders. He wasn’t sure what the future held, but for now, it was enough to celebrate the moment. He was excited about this next step and was betting on a better year ahead for himself.