He drifted in a sleep that had no measure.
Time dissolved underwater. Darkness bled into light, light into darkness, and he floated through it all, half-dreaming, half-aware.
Then, with a twitch, his fins stirred. His tail flicked. His mind sharpened.
He was awake again.
The current nudged his battered body through reeds and rocks. Above, sunlight fractured into wavering ribbons. Silver fish scattered past, darting quick and sleek.
He was not like them.
He could only bounce.
Instinct drove his tail. A jerk. Then another. Then another. His movements were spasms more than strokes, but they carried him forward. He swam endlessly, mind numb, body aching—until a new sensation clawed at him.
Hunger.
At first, an empty ache. Then it sharpened, a twisting pain that hollowed him. His stomach growled without sound. Had he ever eaten since becoming a koi? He couldn't remember.
Food…
The thought thundered louder than anything else.
So he swam. Endlessly. Searching.
Near the surface, shadows dangled into the water—thin strings ending in wriggling shapes. The smell struck him instantly: oily, rich, irresistible. His gut clenched.
Bait.
Other fish knew what to do. They darted forward, mouths snapping. One by one, they bit down—and were yanked upward, vanishing forever.
The koi stared, transfixed. His body shook with hunger. He wanted the same. But there was one problem.
He didn't know how.
He flopped against the bait, brushed it with his lips. Nothing. He smacked it with his fins. Nothing. He even bounced against it. Nothing.
What the hell?! he thought furiously. How do you even bite?!
His jaw worked clumsily, useless. Teeth, if he even had them, refused to act. The bait slipped away again and again.
The hunger gnawed deeper. His body weakened. He drifted closer, desperate.
And then—
A sharp pain tore through his side.
He convulsed as a hook pierced him, agony yanking him upward. He flailed, bouncing in panic, but the pull was merciless.
"Got something!" a voice shouted above the surface.
The koi burst from the river, sunlight burning his eyes. Rough hands seized him, tossing him into a bucket.
"What is this? Never seen a fish like this before…" The voice was curious, almost awed—then hardened. "…but meat's still meat."
The koi thrashed uselessly as the knife fell.
Hot, white pain.
Darkness.
—
[Host terminated.]
[Entering long sleep.]
[Revival in progress…]
His mind reeled. WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!
[Do not worry, Host. You will not feel death. You will only sleep. And wake again.]
And so he did.
—
When his senses returned, he was back in the river. His body whole, as if nothing had happened. But the hunger remained, gnawing, endless.
He swam again. Searching.
The bait appeared sooner this time. His body lunged without thought.
Snap.
The hook ripped into him again.
He was yanked skyward, sizzling on a pan before he understood.
Darkness.
[Host terminated.]
[Long sleep. Revival in progress…]
He woke. Again.
And again.
And again.
Each time different.
Boiled.
Grilled.
Skewered over fire.
Drowned in sauce and praised as a delicacy.
Every time, humans devoured him. Every time, his scream was only silence. To them, he was nothing more than tender flesh.
Death lost its sting. It became absurd ritual. Wake. Hunger. Bait. Pain. Knife. Sleep.
Repeat.
The System's calm voice never faltered.
[Do not worry, Host. This is natural. You cannot die. You will only sleep.]
The koi wanted to strangle it—but he had no hands.
After the fifth or tenth death—he lost count—his fury boiled hotter than hunger.
No more! I won't just get eaten forever!
As if listening, the System flickered.
[Condition met. Host has suffered repeated death by consumption. Adaptation triggered.]
He froze. "…Adaptation?"
[New skill unlocked: Bite.]
A new word gleamed across his mind, brighter than sunlight on water.
[Skill: Bite]
Type: Active
Description: Allows Host to use jaws to tear or consume targets.
Effect: Enables consumption of food, baits, or enemies.
His fins trembled. He stared upward at the endless wriggling bait.
A slow, dangerous thought coiled inside him.
Now… I can bite back.
—
The river no longer felt the same. It felt sharper. Hungrier.
The koi flicked his tail, swimming toward the surface. His jaw worked awkwardly, then clenched with new purpose.
The hunger that had tormented him now burned with possibility.
For the first time since his absurd rebirth, he didn't feel like prey.
He felt like something else.
Something beginning.