I pull my hand back from the rabbit, still feeling that ridiculous softness clinging to my fingertips like it’s trying to guilt-trip me into petting it again. The little dude leans in, bumping his nose against my wrist like, Hey, where are you going? We were having a moment here.

It’s been… weirdly sweet.

And maybe I’m projecting, but his glowing red eyes are not giving me murder vibes anymore. If anything, they look kind of thoughtful. Like he recognizes me or something.

Which would’ve been crazy, right?

Unless he’s not just some oversized forest rabbit. Unless—

Ping.

My vision blurs for a split second, then flickers with that now-familiar shimmer. The glowing overlay slides into focus, wrapping around the bunny like it’s starring in its own sci-fi cartoon opening. Numbers, titles, stats, all floating in that soft blue hue.

STATUS SIGHT: ACTIVATED.

And then the data appears. Bold. Way too impressive for what I’m looking at.

________________________________________

Horny Rabbit (Kiiroi)

Level: 1

Title: None

Description: An edible Kiiroi Ikimono. Its meat is tender when roasted or made into a stew—

________________________________________

I blink. Read it again. Blink harder.

Edible.

That adorable, marshmallow-coded fluff ball’s been considered a snack? A stew ingredient?

“Bro, what,” I mutter under my breath.

My eyes flick back to the rabbit, who’s now licking his paw like he totally hasn’t just been labeled a walking pot roast.

“Don’t worry, little buddy. You’re safe with me,” I say, giving him a wobbly smile that’s, honestly, more for my sanity than his comfort. “Ain’t nobody turning you into rabbit nuggets.”

But then another line of the description grabs me by the collar and shakes me.

________________________________________

—Be careful of its horn if it’s a male.

________________________________________

Wait… horn?

Horn??

My gaze drops to the rabbit’s forehead like I’m checking for a pimple. I expect a glowing sign that screams “plot twist.” A unicorn spike. A fancy antenna. Even a little nubby bump would’ve made sense.

But… nothing.

Smooth fur. Clean. Not even a zit.

Zilch.

“Uh. Hello? False advertising?” I whisper, leaning closer.

So either this guy’s female… or someone stole his horn.

Which, let’s be real, raises way more questions than it answers.

Was it removed? Did he shed it? Is this some kind of rabbit puberty thing??

He just stares at me.

Innocent. Fluffy. Deceptively stew-worthy.

“Alright, buddy,” I mutter, rubbing the back of my neck. “Either you’re a late bloomer, or you’ve got some explaining to do.”

He sneezes.

And then everything changes.

His eyes. Those cute, glassy, anime-hero-sidekick eyes? Shift.

One second, all unknowing curiosity.

The next?

Boom. Crimson. Glowing. Full-on “I feast on Japanese teenage boys” mode. It’s like watching a baby chick morph into a velociraptor mid-hop.

I freeze.

“What the heck’s wrong with this bunny?” I say, stepping back so fast I almost trip over my own fear.

’Cause listen. If that adorable murder marshmallow so much as twitches funny, I’m yeeting it into orbit. Shoot first, cuddle never.

That magical little spark we had? That warm, fuzzy anime bonding moment?

Gone.

Poof.

Replaced with static crawling over my skin and the sudden realization that I might be five seconds away from getting murdered by a psychotic forest Pikachu.

Then it happens.

No power-up scream. No boss theme. No warning at all.

The bunny leaps. No windup, no prep. Just launches itself like a furry missile powered by spite and dark magic.

And in that blink-and-you’re-dead moment, I see it.

The horn.

Yeah.

Not on his head.

Not even on his back.

It’s. On. His. Groin.

I swear on every anime I’ve ever binge-watched, I’m not making this up.

A full-blown, sharp-as-sin, boss-fight-finisher groin horn.

And me?

The totally composed, emotionally stable teenage protagonist?

I just stand there.

Like somebody ctrl+alt+deleted my brain.

Do I scream? Cry? Laugh? Just accept that this is my life now?

Nope.

I duck. Hard.

The horn whooshes past my face, way too close for comfort, and I hit the ground in a messy sprawl. Dirt fills my mouth, and my life flashes before my eyes. Mostly the embarrassing parts.

“What the hell?” I gasp, spitting out leaves and panic. “Is this even allowed?”

The rabbit lands with a smug little hop, red eyes gleaming like it’s thinking, Yeah, I missed, but I’ll get your cheeks next time.

Nah.

Not today.

I scramble up into a defensive crouch. My muscles tighten. My hands itch to summon something, anything. And my mouth? It decides to betray me.

“Hey Bunny! If someone’s going to do the screwing here, it’s going to be me!”

Dead silence.

Even the wind pauses like, bro…

The rabbit blinks.

I blink.

“… Did I seriously just say that?”

The bunny twitches.

I twitch harder.

It leaps again, all horn and fury, and what follows isn’t really a fight. It’s more like a chaotic, fur-flying, slapstick disaster.

We roll. We tumble. I’m pretty sure we accidentally do a synchronized somersault at one point. It’s wild. It’s messy. It’s absolutely not PG.

The little freak latches onto my back.

And his horn? Way too close to… yeah, no. You get it. One hell of a compromising position.

“Stop poking your dick at my butt, you little creep!” I yell, flailing like a man on fire. I try to shake him off, but the pervy furball clings on like we’re in some kind of romantic piggyback ride from hell.

He bounces off and launches straight for my face. I duck just in time, spin on pure fear, grab his hind legs, and fling him like a furry discus.

He yeets through the air, smacks into a tree, bounces off like a cursed Super Ball, and boomerangs right back at me. ’Cause of course he does.

But I don’t wait. I charge in, snatch him mid-air by the throat like I’m in some over-the-top action flick, and slam him into the dirt with everything I’ve got.

“Die, you perverted bunny!” My voice cracks.

I breathe hard. Dirt covers me. My eyes are wide.

And then I see it.

Movement.

To my side.

No.

Oh no.

No no no.

Five more rabbits pop out of the bushes like furry little demons summoned by pure spite.

And yeah, whatever cuteness points they’d before? Gone. Completely gone. Replaced by murder stares and creepy cult ambiance. They’re not hopping around like harmless woodland critters anymore.

Nah.

They lock on me like I just ate their last snack, and now I’m public enemy number one.

They glance at the rabbit I just suplexed into the ground.

Then all turn their glowing red eyes on me. In perfect sync.

Silent. Judgy. Terrifying.

“Oh great. Awesome. Just what I needed,” I mutter, rolling my eyes.

I throw up my hands. “What am I supposed to do? Your friend tried to dick me!”

You probably thought I was exaggerating about the crazy forest vibes earlier. Well, turns out, I was underselling it. Big time.

One of them steps forward and shrieks like it’s calling for backup in a Pokémon boss fight. The sound cuts through the forest like a banshee with a megaphone, and suddenly, it clicks.

That was the howling from earlier.

The one that made me think this world was crawling with werewolves, or banshees, or… I don’t know, something less fluffy.

Nope.

Just mutant rabbits with anger issues.

They start closing in, slow at first, but with this creepy coordination that makes my skin crawl. Not even kidding. They move like they rehearsed this. Like they trained in some underground bunny dojo and I just interrupted their grand tournament arc.

I back up. My fists clench. My heart pounds like I’m in the final round of dodgeball and everyone else still’s their balls.

“Bring it on, you little devils.”

The biggest one in the group, probably the alpha, launches itself at me. I sidestep just in time and spin around, now facing the rest of the angry fluff squad.

They don’t even hesitate. They jump in after their leader, bouncing in near-perfect sync like they’re syncing up to boss music. Their legs coil like springs ready to snap. Their eyes? Still glowing. Still locked on me like I owe them rabbit taxes.

This can’t be real.

I’m fighting rabbits. Horny, rage-fueled rabbits.

One of them lunges again. I summon a marble rock and fling it like a fastball straight to the ribs. It lets out a weird yelp and tumbles to the ground.

That’s my cue.

“Alright, party time!” I yell, calling for more ammo. “SŌTEN! SŌTEN! SŌTEN! BODY KICK! SŌTEN! SŌTEN! SŌTEN!”

I let the marbles fly like I’m the world’s angriest gacha machine. One rabbit catches a stone mid-air like it’s going for a clutch block.

Bad move.

It eats dirt.

Another comes at me from the left.

I dodge just enough to land a solid boot to its side. It spins off into the underbrush.

Then it all goes off the rails.

Bunnies everywhere.

Flashes of white fur, red eyes, claws.

I’m in the middle of a full-blown furball melee. They come from every angle, swarming like gremlins.

I sidestep. I punch. I kick. I scream.

I hurl stones. I fling fists. I’m basically doing wrestling choreography, but with fluffier opponents. Their claws scrape my arms. Their teeth snap way too close to my face.

And yeah, I might’ve yelled something about regretting not picking a MAGE class.

But I stay cool. Well, cool-ish.

Instinct takes over, and every move feels natural, like my body’s been waiting for this moment ever since I rage-quit my last fighting game.

And the crazy part?

I’m winning.

I can feel it.

My hits get faster. Stronger.

The rabbits get slower. Sloppier.

They hadn’t been expecting resistance. They definitely weren’t expecting me to go full Street Fighter on their fuzzy butts.

One by one, they drop. Not dead, probably. Just out cold.

Paws up. Eyes spinning.

Until finally, only one’s left.

And I haven’t even touched it.

It looks at me. Looks at its squad. And just… passes out. Drama queen style.

I stand there, panting, hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. Dirt on my face, fur in my mouth, and a scratch on my cheek that’s definitely gonna sting later.

Then the blue screen blinks into existence, floating in front of me like a smug notification pop-up.

________________________________________

Kill Counts: 6

Level Up: +1

Gold: 6

Points: 2

________________________________________

So turns out, each rabbit’s worth one gold. Nice. Not jackpot nice, but “buy myself a snack and still got change” nice.

Still, I’m not about to throw a party. All that noise from the fight might as well’ve been a flare screaming, fresh meat over here.

I start scooping up the marble rocks like a raccoon going after shiny things, cramming them back into my AMMO. No way I’m running around unarmed.

My eyes flick over to the downed rabbits.

Not just dinner. Those furry punks are my first real loot. Which means they’re valuable. Which means they’re going straight into my TOOLS/ITEMS before some level 20 forest goblin shows up for an unsolicited shopping trip.

I crouch down and give their heads a knock to make sure they’re fully dead, then tap each fluffy body. One by one, they vanish in a soft glow like they just got raptured.

Weird. But kind of satisfying.

Inventory management. Ten out of ten. Would collect again.

With the loot secured, I back away from the spot, scanning the trees like I’m in some low-budget horror flick. Every rustle feels personal.

And probably hungry.

“How much time do I even have before night hits?” I mutter.

Not like the sky’s handing out answers. It’s still bright-ish, but that creepy silence is creeping in. The kind that screams something’s about to go down.

Finding a spot to crash just shot to the top of my to-do list.

I slip through the underbrush, staying low, careful not to step on anything that might scream “I’M HERE” in twig language. The foliage gives decent cover, yeah, but it also makes everything feel way too close. Like the trees are leaning in. Listening.

Every tiny noise lights up my nerves.

Leaf falling? Monster.

Branch cracking? Death.

Wind blowing? Okay, that’s just wind… I think.

The whole forest feels like it’s breathing. Waiting.

And me?

I’m just a dude with some rocks, a few killer rabbits, and a rapidly escalating fear of the dark.