Amatsu moved carefully through the alley, his steps slow, deliberate.
The air was thick with the scent of blood and rot, a stench that clawed at his throat.
Somewhere to his left, a scream tore through the silence, shrill and brief—cut off too soon. Another cry echoed from the right, fainter, like a dying breath.
Behind him, the distant shuffle of feet, the scuttling of unseen things.
He pressed himself against the damp brick wall, exhaling softly.
This place…
When he walked these alleys with Noroi, the weight of the horror had felt distant, something lurking in the periphery, unable to touch him. Now, alone, the atmosphere pressed down on him like a living thing, a beast with hollow eyes staring from the shadows.
But it didn't matter.
His goal was simple. The group of men he had seen earlier—one of them had attacked him. He wasn't hunting them for the girl. He didn't care about her. Her screams were just another noise in this city's endless cacophony of suffering. No, this was about them.
One of them had raised a hand against me.
That was enough.
No matter what, his enemies would soon realize his presence. If he left them alive, they would seek him out, hunt him down. Loose ends festered. Problems, if not carved out at the root, had a way of spreading.
So he would kill them. All of them.
His eyes sharpened, calculating. He moved, silent as a shadow, slipping between garbage and rusted metal. It took hours—hiding, watching, stalking—but eventually, he found his way back to the place where it had happened. The girl had been dragged here. The last echoes of her voice still seemed to linger in the air.
A building, abandoned and crumbling, loomed before him. Its shattered windows gaped like broken teeth. The stench of death wafted from within. Amatsu crouched low, waiting, watching.
And then—
Recognition.
A face.
The fat man.
The one who had laughed, who had stood among them, unfazed by the girl's screams.
Inside, three figures hunched over a mangled corpse. The woman's lower half was missing, torn apart, devoured. The men spoke between mouthfuls, voices thick with pleasure.
"This is so delicious."
"The meat is so tender."
Amatsu's expression did not change. He had eaten ghoul flesh before. He knew the taste. And it was nothing like they claimed. Bitter, metallic, an aftertaste of filth and rot. Or perhaps every ghoul had their own way of tasting it. Perhaps their tongues were as unique as their Kagune, their hunger twisting perception itself.
He didn't know.
Didn't care.
The hunger inside him stirred, deep and insatiable. It slithered beneath his skin, whispering in pulses of need. Not yet, but soon.
He swallowed. Forced the hunger down.
Funny, he thought, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. I thought I would never feel hunger again.
A mistake. An assumption, nothing more. It never was something that could be conquered. It was a constant, a sickness that never left.
He would not dwell on it.
No.
Now was what mattered.
Amatsu's breath steadied. His fingers curled, his muscles coiled.
Amatsu grinned—a slow, creeping thing, stretching his lips into something that barely resembled a smile. It wasn't forced, nor was it conscious. It simply was. A reflection of something inside him.
He wanted to kill them.
To devour them.
Bit by bit.
He didn't know when this feeling had begun. It had always been there, a whisper in the pit of his stomach, a pulse in his veins. But now, it was undeniable, an instinct woven into his very being. It didn't matter if this was truly him—only that he obeyed.
Amatsu moved like a shadow, stalking them the way a starving beast would watch its prey.
He kept low, his breathing measured, eyes flicking across the surroundings. His gaze landed on a rusted pipe running along the rooftop near the basement entrance.
A distraction.
If he destroyed it, the noise might lure at least one of them out. If only one came, the hunt would be easier.
His Kagune curled, tightening like a coiled serpent. A quick snap—and the pipe collapsed with a deafening clang! Metal groaned, clattering against the concrete, sending echoes through the empty alley.
Inside, voices reacted instantly.
"What the fuck was that?!"
"Tch. Some rat or something?"
"Go check it out."
Amatsu had already disappeared before they even finished speaking. His body pressed against the shadows, his mind sharp. Would two of them come? Or just one?
Seconds stretched into silence. Then—
A single figure emerged.
A middle-aged ghoul.
Skinny. Disoriented. But Amatsu knew better than to underestimate him. Older ghouls meant more experience. More fights. More kills.
His stomach clenched, hunger gnawing at his insides. He needed to finish this fast.
His feet moved before his thoughts did. He ran.
"Brat! I'll fucking kill you!"
The man snarled. Amatsu had interrupted his meal—stolen his moment of indulgence.
And now Amatsu had stolen that moment from him.
The ghoul lunged after him, fast—but Amatsu was faster. He pushed his legs to their limit, slipping through the narrow passageways of the ruined alley, forcing his pursuer deeper into the maze of debris and rusted metal.
The man slowed, glancing around, irritation clear on his face.
"Where the hell did that little shit go?"
The space was tight, barely enough for a single person to move freely. The ghoul turned, scanning his surroundings—
Then,
Above him—
Amatsu fell, a shadow cutting through the night.
His Kagune lashed out.
The ghoul barely had time to register the attack before something sank into his arm—and then ripped it clean off.
Blood sprayed against the walls. The man staggered back, his eyes wide with shock.
"Y-You…!"
His instincts kicked in. His Kagune erupted from his back—a jagged, sword-like Rinkaku.
But the alley was too narrow.
His movements were restricted.
And Amatsu took advantage of it.
He lunged, his body a blur of motion. The ghoul swung wildly, the jagged Kagune scraping against the concrete walls, sparks flying—but it never touched Amatsu.
The kid was too close.
Too fast.
Too hungry.
Amatsu kicked out, aiming low. A move he had seen Eto use once.
His foot slammed into the man's knee.
CRACK.
The leg snapped backward.
The ghoul screamed, collapsing to the ground.
Amatsu blinked.
He hadn't expected it to break so easily. If this had been before he had eaten those other ghouls… he wouldn't have been able to do that.
His strength—
He was getting stronger.
The realization sent a twisted thrill through him.
The ghoul writhed on the ground, clutching his shattered leg. His breathing was ragged, his face pale. He tried to crawl, dragging himself away, his one remaining arm trembling, fingers clawing at the filth-stained concrete. A weak, pitiful struggle. The scent of blood, thick and fresh, clung to the alley like an infection.
Amatsu stepped forward.
His Kagune coiled.
The Famine Serpent was ready to feed.
The ghoul gasped— then screamed—as his remaining arm was bitten off at the elbow. Bone crunched, sinew snapped, flesh shredded between the gnashing, rotating fangs of the monstrous tendril. His severed limb hit the ground with a wet slap.
Then his leg.
Bit by bit.
Piece by piece.
The man screamed, his voice raw, breaking into a series of desperate, choked sobs. His body jerked violently as the Famine Serpent dug deeper, tearing flesh from the bone in slow, deliberate bites.
"Please—! S-Stop! I—I was just— I didn't mean—" His words disintegrated into a wretched, high-pitched wail as his blood pooled beneath him, staining the alley floor black.
Amatsu didn't care.
He crouched beside the broken ghoul, watching the man's body convulse, his remaining eye wide with terror. The whites were bloodshot, veins bursting from sheer panic. He was suffocating on pain, drowning in it.
Amatsu smiled. Not wide. Not forced. Just a small, slow curl of his lips. His expression was not amused. It was simply the look of a predator watching its prey take its last, miserable breaths.
Then—
The Famine Serpent moved again.
This time, it ripped away the man's crotch.
The ghoul's howl was something raw, something that scraped its way up from the depths of a dying animal's throat. His entire body seized, arching, spine bending unnaturally as the pain reached new, unbearable heights. Tears flooded his cheeks. His mouth gaped in a silent scream before sound found him again, a wretched, gurgling cry.
Amatsu tilted his head, his golden eyes glinting in the dim light. His face remained unreadable, empty—as if this was nothing more than a passing curiosity. Then, without hesitation, he reached down, scooping up the severed flesh, its edges still steaming.
And he shoved it into the man's mouth.
"Eat."
The ghoul choked. Eyes bulging, he tried to twist away, tried to shake his head, but Amatsu's grip was firm— a hand on his throat, pressing, squeezing.
"Eat."
The man retched, convulsed, his jaw trembling as he struggled to spit it out. A sob tore from his throat, a pathetic, hiccupping thing.
Amatsu walked, slow and lazy, watching the ghoul shudder around the lump of flesh in his mouth. His eyes gleamed, dark with amusement.
"What's wrong?" His voice was silk spun over barbed wire. "Does your cock taste like sausage?"
The man whimpered. A garbled noise, wet with bile. His throat spasmed, swallowing despite himself. His face twisted, horror rippling through his muscles like a slow, creeping infection.
Amatsu's grin widened. He crouched, voice dropping to a whisper. "Go on. Chew."
Amatsu leaned in, his breath warm against the ghoul's ear.
"You rape and ate her, didn't you? Said she was delicious. Tender." His voice was quiet, almost gentle— a whisper laced with something cold, something final. "So Enjoy. The Meals"
The ghoul gagged, violently. He spat the chunk of flesh onto the bloodstained ground, gasping for air, saliva and bile dribbling down his chin. He sobbed, his entire body trembling.
Amatsu exhaled slowly.
Then, with a single sharp kick, he caved the man's face in.
The wet crack of bone.
The silence that followed.
The Famine Serpent lunged forward, swallowing what was left.
His screams dissolved into gurgled agony, his body ripped apart by the writhing mass of hunger-driven flesh. Teeth shredded muscle. Flesh peeled away, swallowed in chunks.
By the time it was over, there was nothing left.
Was this even necessary? No. But necessary had never mattered.
Blood soaked the ground. The walls. Amatsu.
But it wasn't his blood.
It never was.
He exhaled slowly, staring at his Kagune. It was changing.
The red of his Kagune deepened.
He felt it—thicker, heavier, like a second heartbeat within him.
It was evolution.
His muscles felt denser, heavier. His heartbeat slower, yet deeper, as if something was expanding inside him, waiting to unfurl.
The Rc cells. The power surging through him.