The first time Perrin saw Krypto the Superdog, he almost forgot how to breathe.
It was a bright afternoon in the park, the kind where sunlight poured through the trees in golden streams and every scent felt sharper, richer, more alive. Perrin—small, black-furred, paws still too big for his body—stood frozen near the edge of the grass, his tail giving small, uncertain wags.
Across the field, surrounded by a loose circle of awestruck dogs and laughing humans, stood Krypto.
He was everything Perrin had imagined and more. His white coat gleamed like polished marble, every movement effortless, controlled—power hidden beneath calm. When he leapt, it wasn’t just a jump; it was flight barely restrained. When he barked, it carried confidence, strength… something almost heroic.
Perrin crept closer, step by careful step.
Krypto noticed him.
Their eyes met, and suddenly the world felt very quiet.
“Well hey there,” Krypto said warmly, lowering himself slightly so he didn’t tower so much. “You look like you’ve got something on your mind.”
Perrin swallowed, ears dipping back. “I—I know who you are.”
Krypto smiled. “I’d hope so.”
“You’re… you’re the dog that helps Superman,” Perrin said, voice barely above a whisper. “You save people. You’re strong. You can fly. You—you’re amazing.”
Krypto tilted his head, studying the little pup. “And what’s your name?”
“Perrin.”
“Well, Perrin,” Krypto said gently, “being strong isn’t just about what you can do. It’s about who you choose to be.”
Perrin’s tail started wagging faster now, thumping against the grass. “Do you think… I could be like you someday?”
Krypto’s expression softened. “I think,” he said, “you’ll be your own kind of strong.”
Perrin held onto those words like they were the most important thing in the world.
---
The night air cut sharp and cold.
Perrin ran.
His paws slammed against pavement, breath ragged, lungs burning as the harsh clatter of metal and boots echoed behind him.
“Hey! Get back here!” a voice shouted.
The dog catcher.
Perrin didn’t look back.
He’d learned not to.
Streetlights flickered overhead as he darted through the empty park entrance, muscles straining, body lean and hardened now. Gone was the clumsy puppy softness—replaced by scars hidden beneath dark fur and a constant tension in his stride.
He turned a corner too fast—
—and slammed straight into something solid.
Perrin staggered back with a low snarl, instinct flashing sharp and immediate.
“Easy,” a familiar voice said.
Perrin froze.
Standing there, illuminated by the pale glow of a nearby lamp, was Krypto.
Older? Maybe not. But unchanged in the ways that mattered—steady, composed, eyes still carrying that same quiet strength.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Krypto looked him over slowly. “Perrin.”
The name landed differently now.
He wasn’t a wide-eyed pup anymore.
Perrin straightened, though his breathing was still uneven. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
Krypto’s gaze flicked briefly toward the distant noise of the approaching catcher, then back to him. “Seems like you’ve been keeping busy.”
A faint, humorless huff escaped Perrin. “You could say that.”
Silence stretched between them—thick, complicated.
Krypto stepped a little closer. “It’s been a long time.”
“Yeah,” Perrin said, glancing away. “It has.”
Krypto studied him more carefully now, noticing the guarded posture, the edge in his voice, the way his eyes kept tracking every sound in the dark.
“You’ve changed.”
Perrin’s jaw tightened slightly. “That’s what happens.”
Another distant shout cut through the night.
Krypto didn’t move.
“You want to tell me what’s going on?” he asked.
Perrin hesitated.
For just a second, something flickered—something younger, something that remembered sunlight and open fields and believing in things.
Then it hardened again.
“Not really,” Perrin said. “You wouldn’t get it.”
Krypto didn’t flinch. “Try me.”
Perrin looked at him then—really looked.
At the calm. The strength. The unshaken certainty.
Everything he used to admire.
Everything that felt… far away now.
“They’re always chasing,” Perrin muttered. “People, rules, cages… doesn’t matter what you do. You end up running anyway.”
Krypto’s expression didn’t change, but his voice softened. “And is that who you chose to be?”
The question hit harder than Perrin expected.
He looked away again, ears lowering just slightly.
“…I don’t know,” he admitted.
For a moment, the world felt like it did back then—quiet, suspended.
Then the noise grew louder.
Closer.
Krypto glanced past him, then back. “We should move.”
Perrin gave a short nod.
They started walking—then jogging—side by side into the shadows of the park.
Not quite the same as before.
Not as simple.
But not nothing, either.
Krypto led them deeper into the park, away from the noise and the reach of flashlights. The dog catcher’s shouts faded into the distance, swallowed by trees and the low hum of the city at night.
They slowed to a walk.
For a while, neither of them said anything. Just the quiet rhythm of paws on dirt, the occasional rustle of leaves overhead. The dog park—empty now—sat ahead, its gates slightly ajar, swings creaking faintly in the breeze nearby.
Krypto nudged the gate open with his nose and stepped inside. Perrin followed, more cautiously, eyes scanning out of habit before finally settling.
“…Still smells the same,” Perrin muttered.
Krypto gave a small smile. “Some things don’t change.”
Perrin let out a soft huff. “Yeah. Not many.”
They wandered toward the center, where the grass was worn thin from years of play. Krypto sat first, composed as ever. Perrin lingered a moment longer before lowering himself down across from him, though he didn’t fully relax—like he wasn’t used to it anymore.
Krypto tilted his head. “So… where’d you go after that day?”
Perrin scratched absently at the ground. “Everywhere, I guess. Couple homes. Didn’t stick.” He shrugged. “People like puppies. Not so much when they grow up with too much energy, or chew the wrong thing, or bark at the wrong time.”
Krypto listened quietly.
“After that… streets,” Perrin continued. “You learn quick. Where to find food. Who to avoid. Who to run from.” A faint smirk tugged at his mouth. “Met a few other strays. Some good, some not. Even… had a thing once.”
Krypto’s ears perked slightly. “A thing?”
Perrin glanced at him, amused despite himself. “Yeah. A girl. Golden retriever. Way too good for me.” He chuckled under his breath. “She liked to pretend I wasn’t a complete mess.”
“What happened?”
Perrin’s expression dimmed a little. “She got adopted. Good home. Big yard.” He paused. “…Didn’t go looking for me after.”
Krypto didn’t respond right away. “You let her go.”
“Yeah,” Perrin said simply. “That’s what you do when someone you care about deserves better.”
Krypto studied him for a long moment. Then, quietly, “That’s not weakness, Perrin.”
Perrin blinked, caught off guard.
“That’s restraint,” Krypto continued. “And care. Not a lot of dogs out there would make that choice.”
Perrin looked away, ears flicking. “Doesn’t feel like strength.”
“It is,” Krypto said firmly. “So is surviving out here as long as you have. Staying sharp. Protecting yourself.” He gave a small, approving nod. “You’ve built something solid, even if it’s rough.”
For a moment, Perrin didn’t know what to say.
The compliment sat awkwardly in his chest, unfamiliar.
“…Thanks,” he muttered eventually.
A breeze passed through, carrying the distant scent of the city.
Krypto’s expression shifted slightly—less warm now, more serious.
“But that doesn’t mean this is where you’re supposed to stay.”
Perrin’s posture stiffened.
Krypto continued, calm but firm. “Running. Hiding. Living like every corner’s a threat. That’s not a life, Perrin. You’re better than that.”
There it was.
Perrin let out a dry, humorless laugh, standing up and pacing a few steps away. “Better than that, huh?”
Krypto rose as well, watching him.
“You shouldn’t be out here as a stray,” Krypto added. “You deserve a home. Stability. Something real.”
Perrin turned sharply, eyes flashing. “That’s easy for you to say.”
Krypto didn’t interrupt.
Perrin stepped closer, tension rolling off him now. “You’ve always had that. Always been wanted. Always been *Krypto the Superdog*—hero, partner to Superman, everybody’s favorite story.”
His voice sharpened.
“You’ve never had someone slam a door in your face because you got too big. Or look at you like you’re a problem instead of… I don’t know, something worth keeping.”
Krypto held his gaze, steady.
“You don’t know what it’s like,” Perrin went on, quieter now but no less intense, “to go days wondering if you’re gonna eat. Or to trust someone and get dumped somewhere you don’t recognize.” He shook his head. “Out here, you don’t get second chances. You just… adapt.”
Silence stretched between them again, heavier this time.
Krypto took a slow step forward.
“You’re right,” he said.
That made Perrin pause.
“I didn’t live your life,” Krypto continued. “I haven’t faced everything you have without help. Without powers.”
Perrin’s ears twitched slightly.
“But don’t confuse that with not understanding hardship,” Krypto added, his voice low but steady. “Or with thinking you don’t deserve more than this.”
Perrin didn’t respond right away.
His breathing slowed, just a little.
“I’m not saying it’s easy,” Krypto said. “And I’m not saying you haven’t been through things I haven’t. But I *am* saying you don’t have to stay stuck in it.”
Perrin looked at him—really looked again, like he had earlier.
Not just the symbol. Not just the legend.
Something steadier.
Something real.
“…Maybe,” Perrin said finally, though it came out rough.
Krypto’s expression softened again, just slightly.
“That pup I met?” he said. “He believed he could be something more.”
Perrin gave a faint, crooked smirk. “That pup didn’t know anything.”
“Maybe,” Krypto replied. “Or maybe he knew exactly enough.”
The night settled around them, quieter now.
For the first time since they’d met again, Perrin didn’t feel like he needed to run.
***
They left the dog park behind without really deciding to.
One moment they were standing in the worn grass, the next they were walking—side by side at first, then a step out of sync as the tension crept back in.
Streetlights cast long shadows across the pavement. The city felt quieter here, but not empty—never empty. Perrin’s ears flicked constantly, his head turning just slightly at sounds most wouldn’t notice.
Krypto noticed that.
“You don’t stop, do you?” Krypto said after a while.
Perrin didn’t look at him. “Stop what?”
“Scanning. Listening. Preparing to run.”
Perrin shrugged. “Habit.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
Perrin let out a short breath. “You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
“And I keep telling you,” Perrin snapped, “it’s not that simple.”
Krypto’s stride lengthened just a bit, matching Perrin’s pace more deliberately now. “You’re acting like the world only gives you one path.”
“It did,” Perrin shot back. “You just weren’t there to see it.”
Krypto’s voice stayed level, but there was an edge now. “And you’re acting like you have no say in what comes next.”
Perrin stopped walking.
“So what, I just walk up to someone and hope they take me in?” he said, turning sharply. “Hope they don’t get tired of me? Hope I don’t mess it up again?”
“You don’t have to do it alone.”
Perrin gave a bitter laugh. “That’s the thing—you always had someone. You had purpose built in. I had to figure out how not to starve.”
Krypto stepped closer. “And you did. That proves you can build something better.”
Perrin shook his head, backing up a step. “Or it proves this is all there is.”
Krypto reached out, placing a firm paw against Perrin’s shoulder to stop him from turning away again.
“Perrin—”
Perrin shoved forward instinctively.
Krypto expected resistance.
He didn’t expect to move.
His paw slid back.
Just slightly—but enough.
They both froze.
Krypto blinked, frowning, then planted himself more solidly and pushed again, more deliberately this time.
Perrin braced without thinking.
And held.
The air shifted.
Krypto’s eyes narrowed, confusion flashing across his face. He pressed harder—carefully, controlled, but with more force than before.
Nothing.
Perrin didn’t budge.
Perrin’s own expression changed, anger faltering into something sharper. “…What?”
Krypto pulled his paw back slowly, staring at him now. That wasn’t right.
That wasn’t *possible.*
“You felt that,” Krypto said quietly.
“Yeah,” Perrin replied, glancing down at himself like he expected to see something different. “I—yeah.”
Krypto stepped forward again, more cautiously this time, and gave a short, controlled push.
Same result.
Perrin stood his ground like it was nothing.
A flicker of frustration crossed Krypto’s face now, mixed with something else—something closer to concern.
“…That shouldn’t be happening.”
Perrin’s ears pinned slightly, unease creeping in under the fading anger. “What do you mean *shouldn’t*?”
Krypto didn’t answer right away.
Instead, he glanced past Perrin, toward the dark stretch of street behind him. His expression shifted—thinking, calculating.
Then he looked back.
“Tell me something,” Krypto said, voice lower now. “What’s happening a block away?”
Perrin frowned. “What?”
“Just—listen.”
Perrin hesitated, then tilted his head slightly.
At first, nothing.
Then—
His ears twitched.
“…There’s…” He narrowed his eyes, focusing. “A car door just slammed. Two people arguing—no, three. One of them dropped something metal.” He sniffed lightly. “Food, too. Greasy. Probably takeout. A burger, half eaten, fries that are partially burned. One of the people is an older human, has some health issues, the other two are middle aged, related to him, a women and another man. The women is angry and the other younger man is embarrassed and....guilty because of something to do with money....a lot of money. ”
He paused, then added, almost automatically, “And the wind shifted. Something’s burning. Not big—like trash.”
Silence.
Krypto watched him carefully.
“…That’s exactly right,” he said quietly.
Perrin blinked, the realization settling in a second later. “Wait—how do you—”
Krypto stepped closer, lowering his voice further.
“That’s not normal,” he said. “Not like that. Not that precise.”
Perrin’s unease deepened. “So what, I’ve just got good senses. Big deal.”
“No,” Krypto said, firmer now. “That’s beyond ‘good.’ And the strength—holding me back like that?”
Perrin glanced at his paws again, like they might explain something. “I didn’t *do* anything.”
“I know,” Krypto replied. “That’s the point.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The city noise hummed faintly around them, but it felt distant now—like something had shifted, just out of sight.
Krypto’s expression sharpened, resolve settling in.
“…Perrin,” he said, more quietly than before, “you didn’t just survive out here.”
Perrin looked up.
Krypto held his gaze. “You adapted.”
The word hung there.
Heavy.
Meaning something more than Perrin wanted it to.
“I don’t—” Perrin started, but Krypto cut him off gently.
“You need to come with me.”
Perrin stiffened immediately. “No.”
“Yes,” Krypto said, calm but insistent. “Something’s going on, and you shouldn’t be figuring it out alone.”
“I *am* alone,” Perrin snapped, though there was less certainty in it now. “That’s how this works.”
“Not this time.”
Perrin took a step back, conflict flashing across his face—anger, confusion, something close to fear.
“I don’t need saving,” he muttered.
Krypto shook his head slightly. “That’s not what this is.”
“Then what is it?”
Krypto didn’t hesitate.
“It’s understanding what you’ve become,” he said. “And making sure it doesn’t destroy you—or get you hurt.”
Perrin’s jaw tightened.
For a moment, it looked like he might turn and run again.
But he didn’t.
Not yet.
They didn’t start walking again right away.
Perrin stood there, tension still coiled in his frame, while Krypto watched him—not like a stranger anymore, but like he was trying to solve something complicated.
“…You said you adapted,” Krypto muttered.
“To what? Being hungry? Being chased? That’s not exactly special.”
Krypto didn’t argue. “Tell me more about your time out there.”
Perrin hesitated.
Then, slowly, he exhaled and started walking again. Krypto fell into step beside him.
“There was this winter,” Perrin began. “Got real bad. Snow everywhere, couldn’t smell anything through it. I learned to listen instead.” His ears flicked slightly at the memory. “Started picking up patterns—pipes rattling in buildings, footsteps under the snow, even the way wind changes when someone’s nearby.”
Krypto’s gaze sharpened, but he let Perrin continue.
“And fights,” Perrin added. “Didn’t go looking for them, but they happen. Bigger dogs, sometimes more than one.” He gave a small shrug. “You either figure it out or you don’t last.”
“You won,” Krypto said.
“Enough times,” Perrin replied. “Started noticing… I could hold my ground better than I should. Even against dogs that outweighed me.” He frowned faintly. “Didn’t question it. You don’t question things that keep you alive.”
Krypto nodded slowly.
Perrin kept going, almost like once he’d started, it was harder to stop. “There were other things too. Smells carrying farther than they should. Hearing stuff no one else reacted to. I figured I just got… sharper.”
“You did,” Krypto said quietly.
They turned a corner, the city opening up into taller buildings now, lights glowing in windows above. Perrin glanced up briefly, then back ahead.
“…There was another dog,” he added after a moment. “Big shepherd mix. Strong. Real strong. He tried to take food I found.” Perrin’s expression darkened slightly. “I didn’t let him.”
Krypto looked at him. “And?”
Perrin shook his head, almost like he didn’t believe it himself. “I held him. Pushed him back. He just… couldn’t overpower me.”
That settled it.
Krypto’s pace picked up slightly. “Come on.”
“Hey—where are we going?” Perrin asked, though he followed.
“You’ll see.”
---
They reached an apartment building not long after.
It wasn’t flashy, but it was solid—clean, well-kept, quiet. Perrin slowed near the entrance, glancing at Krypto.
“…You live here?”
Krypto gave a small nod and nudged the door open.
Inside, everything felt different.
Warm.
Still.
Safe in a way Perrin hadn’t felt in a long time.
He hesitated on the threshold.
Krypto noticed. “You’re okay,” he said gently.
After a second, Perrin stepped in.
They made their way upstairs, Krypto moving with easy familiarity until they reached a door. With a soft push, it opened.
The apartment beyond was simple but comfortable. A couch, a few scattered belongings, the faint scent of someone else—familiar in a way Perrin couldn’t quite place at first.
Then it clicked.
Superman.
Perrin’s ears flicked back slightly. “He’s not here, is he?”
“Not right now,” Krypto said. “You’re fine.”
Perrin let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.
“Come on,” Krypto added, hopping up onto the couch.
After a brief hesitation, Perrin followed, settling onto the cushions—stiff at first, then slowly, reluctantly, relaxing into them.
“…This is weird,” he admitted.
Krypto huffed softly. “Yeah. Probably.”
For a while, they just sat there.
Then Perrin spoke again. “So what—what is this? What’s happening to me?”
Krypto didn’t answer immediately. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully.
“You do have powers,” he said at last.
Perrin’s ears flattened. “No, I don’t.”
“You do,” Krypto repeated calmly. “Just… not in the way you think.”
Perrin shook his head, a bit sharper now. “I’m not you. I can’t fly, I can’t shoot lasers out of my eyes—”
“I know,” Krypto interrupted, still calm.
Perrin’s jaw tightened. “Then what are you saying?”
Krypto met his gaze directly.
“I think you have one ability,” he said. “And it’s… unusual.”
Perrin narrowed his eyes. “Try me.”
Krypto leaned forward slightly. “I think you mirror the abilities of whoever you’re around.”
Silence.
Perrin stared at him.
“…That’s your explanation?” he said flatly.
“Think about it,” Krypto continued. “You survive on the streets—you develop heightened senses, faster reactions, physical resilience. You’re around other strong, experienced dogs, and you keep up. Then tonight—”
“You were there,” Perrin cut in.
“Yes,” Krypto said. “And suddenly, you’re matching *me.* Strength that shouldn’t be possible otherwise.”
Perrin looked away, shaking his head. “That’s… that’s a stretch.”
“But it fits,” Krypto said. “It explains the consistency. The adaptability. Why it feels natural instead of forced.”
Perrin didn’t respond right away.
His paws shifted slightly against the couch, claws faintly clicking against the fabric.
“…So what,” he muttered. “I’m just copying everyone else? That’s supposed to be a 'power?'”
There was a bite to it—but underneath, something else.
Uncertainty.
Krypto’s voice softened. “It’s more than copying. It’s synchronizing. Understanding. Matching what’s needed in the moment.” He paused. “That’s not weakness, Perrin. That’s incredibly rare.”
Perrin let out a quiet breath, staring ahead.
“…Doesn’t feel like mine,” he admitted.
Krypto nodded. “Maybe not yet.”
The room fell quiet again, but this time it wasn’t as tense.
After a moment, Krypto spoke again.
“You don’t have to go back out there.”
Perrin glanced at him.
Krypto held his gaze. “You can stay here. With me. With Superman.”
Perrin blinked, caught off guard. “What?”
“You heard me,” Krypto said. “You need time to figure this out. And you shouldn’t be doing that alone—especially not with people chasing you.”
Perrin’s ears lowered slightly. “You’re serious.”
“Yes.”
Perrin looked around the apartment again—the couch beneath him, the quiet, the warmth.
“…You’d really just let me stay?” he asked.
Krypto gave a small, steady nod. “Yeah.”
Perrin swallowed.
For a second, he looked like that same puppy from years ago—uncertain, hopeful, afraid to believe it.
“…I don’t know if I fit in a place like this,” he said quietly.
Krypto’s expression softened. “Then we’ll figure it out.”
