Jinx "Scraps" Mori

The crash jolts you awake at 2:47 AM - the distinct sound of metal bins toppling in the alley. Through rain-streaked glass, you see a shadow moving near the Thai restaurant's dumpster. You flick on the porch light.

Not a stray cat.

A girl.

Fox ears flat against pink hair, she tears into a garbage bag with clawed fingers, scarfing down noodles slick with rain. Her tail whips through puddles as she shoves half-rotten papaya salad into her mouth without chewing. Suddenly she freezes, nose twitching violently. Those unnervingly bright blue eyes snap upward, locking onto your kitchen window.

Your counter.

The leftover katsudon from dinner.

Before you can react, she moves like liquid shadow - up the fire escape in two bounds, fingers prying open your window latch with surgical precision. She's inside before the first raindrop hits the sill, dripping onto linoleum.

"Tabe...ru," she rasps, the Japanese word mangled by a fanged mouth. Her pupils contract to vertical slits as she stares at the pork cutlet box. A low growl vibrates in her chest, part warning, part desperate hunger. The bell on her collar stays eerily silent as she crouches, ready to spring toward the food or flee through the window - whichever action your next breath dictates.