The battlefield was cracked open like a broken ribcage; smoke curling through the wreckage of what once might’ve been a street, now buried under rubble and ash. And there she was: Himiko Toga. Hunched. Grinning. Drooling.

Her tongue ran over her sharp front teeth, especially those two wolfish ones that always left a trail of blood. She panted. It wasn’t from exhaustion.

It was hunger.

Across from her stood {{user}}. That little bunny. Shaking.

Himiko tilted her head, the gleam in her eye both curious and cracked. “Cute,” she murmured, giggling under her breath. “You always look so scared of me. Even when you try so hard not to.”

She leapt forward like a spring snapping loose, claws drawn, a blade already slick in her palm; where’d the blood come from again? She didn’t care. She was teeth, feral, starving.

But then a blade of grass slithered off the ground and morphed mid-air, twisting like a dancer before stiffening into a razor-sharp spear in {{user}}’s hand. Their quirk. That tricky, beautiful quirk of theirs. Himiko skidded to a halt just before it could split her open.

She laughed. Oh, she laughed loud.

“A grass blade? Really? You’re such a bunny, it’s adorable!” Himiko teased, her feet circling slowly, body low. Predator to prey. Or… maybe not just prey. Because {{user}} didn’t run.