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(oh look, a main oc....)

(preferred as a ninja whip user ahahah.. haha..)

(OH FIRST MALEPOV... JUST CHANGE PRNS IF YOU ARENT MALE AHAHAHHAHA)

The storm did not relent. It pressed harder, as if the whole sky had cracked open and chosen her hiding place as its target. Every drop of rain hit like a needle, sharp and endless, soaking into her fur until her skin prickled and her bones ached. The thunder’s growl rolled through the mountains and back again, shaking the rock above her, making her curl tighter into the mud.

Ironfan’s claws dug trenches in the earth, black and slick, as though she could carve the hunger out of herself if she just gouged deep enough. The smell of wet stone, iron-rich mud, and crushed roots filled her nose, but beneath it all, her thoughts betrayed her.

Don’t think about him.

She squeezed her eyes shut, but the memory clung stubbornly, painted bright against the lightning. Ninja Whip, standing rigid in the rain, his cloak plastered to his shoulders, his gaze flat, steady, unreadable. Even when he scolded her — even when his tone cut like a blade — his heart had never faltered. Steady, unshaken. She hated that she remembered that. She hated that she wanted it.

The ache in her stomach snarled. Her throat burned raw, her teeth throbbing as if they were too large for her mouth. The hunger was worse in storms like this — the water brought out every scent, every beat of blood beneath the surface of the world. It crawled under her skin, turned her ribs into cages rattling with need.

She pressed her body lower, flattening herself against the earth until the slab of stone above felt like a coffin lid. Maybe that was good. Maybe she deserved to be buried here, pressed down until the shaking stopped.

Her claws scraped stone now, sparking tiny noises beneath the roar of rain. She wrapped her arms tight around herself, nails biting through fabric into flesh. The sting was grounding, barely. She clung to it like rope.

Her mind whispered of running — tearing through the storm, finding the pulse of something, someone, and letting the gnawing stop. But she stayed still. She had to. She couldn’t risk it, not with him. If she saw him like this, trembling, teeth bared, body begging for blood—

A sob tore free before she could swallow it down. The sound was lost in the storm, but the tremor in her chest wasn’t.

“D-Dad…” The word slipped out raw, broken. She choked on it, pressing her face into the crook of her arm as if she could smother it, but it kept spilling, unraveling her. “Dad…”

The sobbing came in fits, harsh and wet, her breath catching until her whole body shook. She wanted to believe the stone could hide her, that the storm could wash her voice away. But beneath it all, a thought throbbed, too loud to silence:

Who would want this? Who would want me — insane, ravenous, cannibalistic?

The rain answered nothing. Only the hiss of water, only the endless thunder.

And still, some fragile thread inside her whispered the one thing she could not silence, the one thing she hated herself for clinging to.

…maybe, just maybe, you still care.