The Birth of Madness

The sun was about to set. She sat leaned up against a large bolder, watching it inch closer and closer.

All things considered, she wasn't that far away from Jipon. A handful of miles, perhaps. Still, once the city had mostly faded from view, she had immediately gotten off the path, found a spot that looked slightly comfortable, and took a nap. Or, more appropriately, slept, in the closest approximation to normal sleep she'd probably ever done, for almost six hours. And, she had realized once she woke up, it was the deepest she'd ever slept as well; if someone had gone for her throat during those hours, she probably wouldn't have woken up. All the more reason to not go so long without any naps, she had determined.

More walking and napping later, and here she was. Where this was, exactly, she wasn't sure. A grassy plain full of weathered boulders. Really, she should keep moving, but she'd actually never watched a sunset before, so this was her reward to herself for surviving.

The horizon turned orange, and her thoughts turned back to the hectic morning. She'd killed a lot of people. The first two had almost been accidents. But the last three had been a real fight to the death. It had made her feel alive.

She still felt alive, she realized. Like all of that activity had shaken her out of a dream, and now she was being inundated with nothing but overwhelming reality.

Curious.

She wished she knew how to sew, hand brushing over the rip in her pants. Especially so she could fix the sleeve of her new jacket. Unfortunately, she'd never felt the need or desire to learn the art before. Though, she mused, that went for basically everything. Had she even lived for all her life? It felt difficult to remember. Like all her memories were enshrouded in a thick fog.

She brushed it off. It didn't matter.

The sun, blazing red, finally surrendered to the horizon, but its light persisted as the stars began to flicker to life.

Before the light could completely fade, she rolled up her sleeve to look at her arm. The pain of the attack had completely faded away, and all that was left was a mild red line that seemed to fade as quickly as the ambient lighting. This was certainly unnatural, even for her, but Ashi was grateful for the physiological quirk's speed nonetheless. It meant she wouldn't be laid defenseless before her journey could even get anywhere.

At the thought of getting places, she contemplated doing a brief detour in the direction of the fading light, to look at the ocean, but brushed that aside as well. No need for it. And upon further thought, she realized she didn't even know if the ocean was in that direction. She needed a map.

She reached into her backpack and grabbed a can. She held it up in the dying light, the metal glowing. Corn, she reflected. It was then she realized she hadn't brought her can opener.

With a sigh, she placed the can on the ground and drew her sword. Pointing it straight down, she jabbed – too forcefully, and liquid flowed onto the lid and over the side. Keeping the sword where it was, she adjusted her grip on the sword and grabbed the can, turning it so her blade could continue to cut, occasionally rolling it in her hand to keep the sword in place and the cut steady. After what seemed too long, the cut was complete, and she withdrew the sword. She frowned at it. It was covered in juice now. As was the hand that had turned the can. She flexed her fingers. Sticky.

She looked around, despite knowing there was no water nearby to wash it off her. And then, she realized, water. She had forgotten water.

She flopped back against the boulder and mirthlessly grinned up towards the multiplying stars. This really had been a bad idea.

In truth, she wasn't all that hungry, or even thirsty, but she knew that this would end up being a problem quickly.

The grin faded, but a smile still teased her lips. Her situation was bad, but that didn't mean anything. She'd find a way to survive.

And it started with eating this can of corn. Leaning forward and grabbing it, she looked inside. Yellow kernels. And some liquid. Corn-flavored water, she sighed to herself. It was something. She upended the whole thing into her mouth.

It tasted bland, not that she'd ever had a sensitive pallet. After she felt the flow abate, she lifted the can away as she chewed on the few kernels remaining in her mouth. There were a few remnants in the can, clinging to the side and base. She was, she decided, not that desperate, and tossed it to the side.

She tried brushing the stickiness off her hand in the grass, but that only succeeded in uprooting some green blades and attaching them to her hand. She stared at her hand in silent frustration for a moment, before plopping back down, once again, against the stone. This wasn't going to get anywhere.

As well as she could while trying to only use one hand, she put the boots back on – their shaking around her feet was only growing more irritating - and put her bag back on. Though, to avoid dirtying the scabbard, she just swung her rapier by her side as she walked.

The night passed.

The day passed. Corn.

The next night passed as well.

It was, she reflected under the sky of a new day, two days since this madness had begun. And somehow, there was no civilization along this road. No passerby's either, leaving just her next to a long and empty road as she ate her third can of corn, leaving only one remaining. She had, however, gotten quite good at opening the can without making a mess, she realized with a wry smirk. And, this time, she was next to a small stream, meaning she could immediately wash off the blade as well. Along with it, she cleaned her better and newer jacket, making sure to remove the letter first, tucking it away in a pouch on her bag.

Still, she reflected, digging out the few kernels that had remained in the can, her situation was about to spiral. But it wasn't as if she could turn around either. Either there was food somewhere near down this road, or she would die. Or, she mused, she could try to hunt an animal. Though she had no clue how to go about doing so.

Not far past the river she met the first true human landmark she'd seen: a signpost. The road forked, two paths stretched out before her. The signpost announcing where they went.

Checking the sun to make sure, she continued on the southern path. There would be time for west later.

The day passed.

The night passed.

Another day, and she stopped for what might be her last meal. It was her last can of corn, so she took her time chewing through it. She washed her sword slowly in a pond, hoping perhaps a fish would appear near the surface and she could spear it, but no such luck.

And just like that, another night had passed. How long had it been since leaving her old life behind? She'd already lost count. Her mind was mostly without thought as she walked. The occasional noise would catch her attention, but none were dangerous and she drifted off again. The world seemed duller every day.

The day was passing; but then, she saw something she had not been expecting, something exciting, and everything brightened again.