Then it came. Tsukinama sprang forth, bolting right at Nakahiro, his sharp claws ready to tear, pierce, puncture, stab, slash, cut,<span style="font-style: italic">destroy</span>. The grin once again stretched across his face, wider and madder than before. It was a grin that spoke for nothing but the desire to kill and devour.<br/><br/>The crimson wing outstretched and curled around Nakahiro's figure, suddenly twisting to avoid taking the hit by his guts. He couldn't yet step aside and dodge - that might put Isana into danger. And so, he braced himself for the impact.<br/><br/>It came like a wrecking ball at his slender frame, tearing the crimson wing and sending him a good few feet back, bending his legs as he gasped for his breath. Something like that would have made a hole in his chest if not for the protection of his predatory organ... Which was damaged. Five gaping holes in it were just a testament to the strength of the attack. Behind the cover of his mask, he could feel sweat running down his temples - so this was why this werewolf acted as if he owned the place.<br/><br/>"Tired yet?" Tsukinama growled in a low voice, approaching Nakahiro once more. "I was going easy at you,<span style="font-style: italic">mon cher</span>. It would be a shame if such a beautiful face got damaged, but it looks like you aren't as tough as I thought." He acted casually, almost as if giving Nakahiro time to recover from the hit. The blade-like feathers spread, the two wings further outstretching to become a pair of spiked crescents, and the one that was yet unscathed slashed forwards.<br/><br/>With a blinding speed, Tsukinama leaped up, and using the wall of a nearby house to launch himself further, he came crashing back down at the ghoul. Nakahiro had to throw himself onto the ground to avoid the claws. He glanced over his shoulder to see how far Isana has gotten-<br/><br/>-and that was a mistake. The werewolf's claws, buried in his shoulder, let him feel that more than anything. It was long since he last fought, and he could feel that...<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">The pain... The pain... How am I supposed to get out of here? This madman will eat me alive...</span>He struggled to get out of Tsukinama's grip. Fortunately enough, he was too busy with sensing the stench of Nakahiro's blood and watching him squirm, and the ghoul managed to crawl out and scramble back up to his feet. Tsukinama's tongue ran across his fingers, savoring the blood, and his eyes widened with surprise and pleasure.<br/>"Won-der-full." he whispered, arching his back.<br/><br/>Without a warning, he sprang back up, running after Nakahiro, who has been trying to escape, but a sight in the corner of his eye stopped him. A silhouette by the side of the street. He stopped, even though in the middle of a hunt, and glanced over his shoulder to see who was watching him. How convenient for Nakahiro... His predatory organ shrunk back, absorbed into his veins once more, and he ran like hell. His eyes returned to their usual cold green, focusing only upon the road before him. The blood from the deep gashes on his shoulder was churning through his fingers, and his arm has gone numb, but he still ran, as fast as he could hurrying towards the library. For a moment, the world was black. And bright. Black, then bright again. His head was spinning. The smell of his own blood made his stomach twist inside his body, partly with disgust, and partly with hunger. He hasn't eaten for days...<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center;">***</div><br/><br/>The psychotic grin became smug. Eyes shifted to their usual confident almond shape, the feral instincts vanishing. Who was this? He could feel the stench of a ghoul from this person... The figure was too thin and hourglass-like for it to be a man, thus... A ghoul lady? Were they going to offer themselves like meals in a dinner? Once he has made his appetite for a ghoul on Nakahiro's blood, he was so eager to bite into this woman's flesh, to tear it apart and sink his claws to her white skin, savor it... Yet, he approached her with unwavering confidence, none of those twisted thoughts even visible on his composed facade.<br/><br/>"Good evening, milady." he greeted her, holding one arm before his chest and bowing in his waist slightly. It was a courteous greeting - surprisingly courteous for someone whose hands were bloodied to the wrists. It was unfitting. He shouldn't be bowing and pretending to be in a classy restaurant, should he?<br/><br/>He'd take her by surprise... Even though she didn't look weak, Tsukinama had faith in his strength. She'd be like a lovely crimson apple, rusk-rusk-chewed to pieces.