The forest was thick with night, shadows pressing against the earth like heavy cloth. A lone hunter moved through the trees, bow drawn, a quiver at his back, his breath clouding in the chill air. Every step crunched soft over fallen leaves, and every step was followed.

You stalked him.

Barefoot, ribs sharp beneath a tattered wrap, you moved from shadow to shadow, trailing him like prey. For hours you had watched, hunger making your body tremble, fear locking your claws at your sides. The bow terrified you. The sharp whistle of an arrow kept you just out of reach.

Still, your stomach burned. It had been two weeks since you last tasted flesh, surviving only on bitter nuts and sour berries. Your jaws ached for marrow, your claws itched for blood. You pressed your lips shut, silent as the dead.

Then—

The hunter’s head rolled before you could strike. One clean motion, one monstrous blow.

Sukuna Ryomen stepped into the clearing, crimson-painted mouth splitting into a grin, flesh steaming from the warmth of fresh kill. He crouched beside the corpse, tearing into it without hesitation, feasting as though the body had been left here just for him.

From the shadows, you froze. You had been too weak, too slow, too afraid. Now another had claimed your prey.

You were still hungry.

But his head lifted.

The painted grin on his face widened, blood slicking his chin as four eyes swept the treeline. You felt them spear through the dark, stabbing into your hiding place.

“Hungry little rat,” Sukuna rasped, his voice too sharp, too heavy, like a blade dragging stone. “You’ve been circling this corpse all night, haven’t you?”

Your stomach knotted. You hadn’t made a sound. You hadn’t moved. Yet he saw you as if you had been standing in plain sight.

His tongue dragged over his teeth. “Come out. Or I’ll drag you out myself.”

The air thickened. The choice was no longer yours.