[Yandere Meowscarada x Reader] I'll Make Them All Disappear!

64.5 | And Die to Survive

Way back when, longer than Zoroark could easily remember, there had come a day when people started looking at her funny. Battles ending in her victory also ended in shock and awe, and she could feel distant eyeballs penetrating the back of her skull before she looked up to see them. There had been a young boy she was facing off against, a boy with smooth skin—a baby face, honestly—with eyes that bore the slightest green undertint. That was the very first time Zoroark actually locked eyes with the other trainer after a battle (every other time she'd been too busy reveling in her victory and prestige to care what the other person looked like), and what she saw made her fur stand on end.

He was not celebrating her victory the same as she was, he couldn't even offer her a brief round of applause if anything; the young boy with smooth skin and pretty green eyes had been looking at her with fear and, at a deeper gauge of his reaction, contempt. There weren't tears in those gorgeous eyes, not yet, anyway, but Zoroark could tell he was moments away from shedding what humans called angry tears and making himself look like a soggy rat. A soggy rat with a bad case of baby face. She liked looking into his eyes momentarily, liked the way proof of his youth was abundant in the way radiance gleamed out of his eyes, and she discovered that maybe he was handsome, but that discovery fell through the second she figured he wasn't looking at her with admiration but dread.

He wasn't looking at her like she was a Pokémon; he was looking at her like she was a monster.

And then it clicked, perhaps a minute too late for Zoroark to care much, that she had earned this distant, petrified stare for what was in her hands. No, not her hands—her claws. They had anchored deep down into the flesh of a Pokémon, specifically a Lilligant, and were grabbing so hard that blood was gingerly pouring over Zoroark's fur. And she didn't have a clue how long it had been doing that. And since when could a Lilligant bleed? Just then, she realized how cold she was. Although it wasn't her who was cold, exactly; it was the blood, which was a freakish conclusion to come to because that blood was still warm, but as it was touched by the air and slicked over her palms, she had no doubt it felt chilly.

It wasn't only her claws and palms that were covered in blood—her mouth, too. Zoroark licked her chops. Hot metal stung her tongue, and the warmth of blood ran between her teeth. Still looking on at the young boy behind her, Zoroark opened her mouth to make a sound, the only sound a creature like her could make (naturally, her own name), but she stopped short when she felt jellied clumps of blood stretch from her top and bottom gums and canines, like saliva that collects too long in your mouth and grows thick.

Something else clicked, and suddenly she cared a whole lot. Scattered along the delicate torso of Lilligant and arms made up of leaves were bite marks. Real deep ones, at that. A few were so deep they had punched through to the other side of the grass-type's thin green arms, as though an overgrown Caterpie chews through its meal and leaves behind little specks of rot and holes.

Zoroark had been eating her opponent. The distant, petrified stare from the young boy over there—she was getting it because she was eating his partner. For a split second, Zoroark wondered why he wouldn't first rush over to push her off, stop her in her tracks before she could get as far as she had, but it was too late for that now. He had stood there like a scared (not yet soggy) rat and let it happen.