Seasons

I was dead tired. Dead, dead tired.

Not the pleasant, after-a-big-meal tired, where you just want to crawl into bed and let sleep take you.

No. This was the why-do-I-even-exist kind of tired.

The kind that made my feet throb to the rhythm of my heartbeat. The kind where everything swam in and out of focus and made the world feel a little less real with every step.

Where's the damn checkpoint? I've been marching for hours now, and still no sign of it.

“Stop playing hide and seek with meee.” I groaned.

“Hold on a second…”

I hugged myself, fingers drumming away on my arms.

A thought nagged at me. Like a drop of water, ringing louder with every second it went on.

“…It is Burnwake season, isn’t it?”

I stopped. Looking around.

The pathway before me was like someone just laid down a giant strip of paving stones and forgot to fill it with anything interesting.

Fifty wagons could drive down it, side by side, without one ever having to worry about turning. And yet, it was totally, strangely empty.

I turned my head.

Same lifeless view.

I swallowed down something bitter.

Heaving a reluctant sigh, I forced one foot in front of the other.

This must be the Neutral Zone. The part of the wall that hadn't been stained by the Blights; the ultimate no man's land.

No wonder it felt so... barren.

No banners. No flags. Nothing to ground me.

If this season wasn’t my ward’s…

I nibbled my bottom lip.

That meant foreign guards.

I didn't even want to imagine what kind of conversation I was about to have.

If they saw me here, they could do any number of things...

For example: assume I'm smuggling a rival Blight and attack without even asking questions.

I wasn't infected, though. I wasn't.

...But.

I stopped.

Then—Smack!

The sting of my palms on my cheeks filled the empty lane with a clap of sound.

Get a grip, Yori.

I had seen it myself—my Immune Systems screen. Detoxified. That was fact. Solid as the ground under my feet.

I inhaled then exhaled. My pulse slowed.

Right. No more distractions. I needed to reach the checkpoint. Overthinking won’t—

I stopped. Again.

A cold sweat ran down my nape.

“Oh, no...”

My fingers dove into my pinafore pocket.

My hand closed around a wad of something.

I gritted my teeth.

I pulled it out gingerly. My body knowing what I didn't want to believe.

I held it up to the sunlight.

Splotches of gold stood out on the white.

All the blood drained from my face.

Then—

[Fomite Identified.]

[Fomite: Burnwake Contaminant]

Blight Type: Burnwake Blight

Fomite Type: Garment

Fomite Description:

Meryl was no ordinary caretaker.

She mopped the floors every morning until they shined, and every week, she washed the bedding till the laundry room smelt of soap.

Whenever anyone got sick, she'd wipe their foreheads with the corner of her sleeve, trying to soothe us all.

When the Burnwake Blight took its toll, her vomit melted through the very floor she used to clean.

She didn't ask for anyone's help. Despite everything she was going through, she still had that small, stubborn pride. But there was a young girl who refused to stand idly by.

She pressed a handkerchief to Meryl's lips, trying to catch the blood wherever it leaked.

One day, Meryl smiled at the children, ruffled a few heads, and left to do her usual nightly errands.

The blast took the whole street.

The children... The children were so damn stupid.

They waited.

She never came back.

Even as her body fell apart. She had been more worried about hurting them than saving herself.

Meryl always called the young girl the unsentimental one.

But she was wrong...

Oh, was she so wrong.]

I stared at the screen.

I couldn't tear my eyes away.

All I could hear was my own rough breathing.

Then, like the entire world fell on my shoulders, I let my head droop forward.

This old thing... I held it in my palms, tracing my thumb over the worn fabric.

The only thing I managed to salvage from my belongings.

I almost forgot I wrote all that.

Haha. Like a stupid diary.

Something wet stained the cloth.

I wiped my eyes.

I should, I had to. But... I wasn't ready to let it go. Not yet. Not now. Maybe never.

It wasn't just a silly keepsake. No, it was more than that—it was a fomite. And therein lay the problem.

A way for the Burnwake Blight to spread.

A piece of my past that could bring about a future I dread.

If foreign guards found me with this.

They wouldn't give me a chance.

I... I could die. Just for being sentimental.

“Okay...” I tucked the rag back into my pocket, then wiped my sweaty palms on my clothes. “Focus. I need to focus.”

First things first. I needed to find out if it was Burnwake season or not.

I walked on, my left hand finding my right shoulder.

I applied pressure on the muscle.

“Out of sight and out of mind.” I mumbled in a daze.

What if the guards did search you, though..? They probably would, and...no, no, stop it!

Focus, find some—

“Gross. Rotten fruit.”

Instinctively, I covered my nose, sidestepping the blue splat in the middle of the road.

“Ugh, it's been there for a while, that's for sure.”

The skin was all burst open and the liquid had been spilling all over the floor.

But... fruit.

It meant trade, right? And where there was trade, there were usually wagons too.

I squinted ahead.

Yes! There it was! The toppled wagon. All its wares were scattered across the floor, creating a trail that led right to me.

There was a shift in my chest, an uncoiling of rope around my heart.

But it was far, far from complete.

I followed the trail. Picking up fruits along the way. By the time I reached the wagon my arms were full.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

One by one, the empty crate I found now began to fill, fruit by fruit.

“Neat and Perfect. Just like completing a puzzle.” I murmured to myself.

“Heyyyy, thanks for the help girlie!”

“Eep!” I whipped my head left then right, expecting a guard.

Instead of that—praise the gods, I was ready to run for my life—I saw something even more unexpected...

A girl.

Lying belly-up in the center of the mess.

Feet and hands in the air.

I stared.

Honestly, I don't know what possessed me, but I craved to touch something that was safe, that wouldn't put my life in danger.

Hopefully.

And so, I raised my hands.

“Uh... Your face is telling me you've got some mischievous thoughts brewing.”

Wiggled my fingers.

“Okaaay. You're definitely up to no good.”

It was a silly, childish idea, but the temptation was just too overpowering.

Every step brought me closer.

And then, in a trance, I crouched down, my hand hovering just above the soft, exposed flesh.

“If you're about to do what I think it is, then I have to warn you—”

I couldn't withstand the urge any longer.

Yes, it's true. I, Hiyori, did the unimaginable.

I tickled the belly of a stranger I had just met for the first time ever.

“Pffft—HAHAHA! You actually did it?!”

Her face mirrored mine—a mess of silly smiles and giggles.

I felt my shoulders relax. It was more than just a playful distraction to me.

She looked like an overexcited pet with her feet kicking in the air.

It was so cute.

But then she stamped down.

And the entire wall shook.

The wagon jumped. Items rolled loose.

...Mouth agape, I stopped. Hands stuck in place.

Underneath us, spiderweb-like cracks splintered from the center, spreading out in all directions.

I shot straight up to my feet. Nope. Nope. NOPE.

Sure, the giggling and squirming were expected, but seismic activity?

This girl had gone from cute to downright destructive in a split second.

“What... the hell was that?”

The girl held her belly trying to calm herself.

“Haha, ha... Sorry, sorry. I tried to warn you though. I'm just too ticklish.”

“The tickling part, I understand. But that doesn't explain why—”

I paused and blinked.

“Wait, could it be... do you... have a Blight?”

She bobbed her head in affirmation.

I breathed faster.

“No.”

“Uh, yes. I have these boils under my feet, see?”

She thrust her feet right at my face. I physically recoiled, regretting everything. Blood and pus smeared her soles.

This girl wasn't just some harmless traveler.

My hands, my hands.

In a panic, I looked at them. They seemed normal.

But they... they touched her. Oh gods, what have I done?

“Hey, breathe, it's alright.”

I raised my head, horror shown on my face.

And this girl...

This girl was smiling, pedaling the air like this was no big deal.

“You don't need to be afraid. Treadplague Blight isn't contagious through touch alone.”

I remained still, barely even daring to breathe.

“It mainly spreads through contact with the pus on my feet.” She wiggled her toes.

“So, as long as you haven't touched that, you'll be fine.”

The notion that I should believe the girl's words did little, so little to push down the rising bile in my throat.

But did I really have any grounds to question her words?

I pursed my lips.

No. The culpability lay solely with me.

Curse me for my impulsiveness.

Nonetheless, the knowledge that I hadn't come into direct contact with the pus provided a small sliver of relief.

I sighed.

Still, I fidgeted with my pinafore.

That heavy weight in my chest wasn't gone.

Meanwhile, the girl chatted on, blissfully ignorant to my discomfort:

“The boils pop when I walk, and it really hurts.”

She said one of the most terribly painful things I had ever heard in my life like she was describing a normal everyday event.

“Oh, and whenever I put my foot down, it uh... causes quakes like the one you just saw. I'm sorry if it scared you. I'm a trader from Treadplague Ward in Octagon City, and—”

As soon as I heard the mention of “Octagon City,” everything clicked into place.

The tremors, the belly-up position, and the blight on her feet... It was right in front of me the whole time.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

“Whoa. Take it easy there, you'll hurt yourself if you keep clapping your face like that. It's already looking awfully red.”

I ignored her.

If she was a trader...

My eyes shifted to the beast-drawn wagon.

It was still lying on its side, merchandise spilled across the stone like someone had gutted it.

Yes the wagon was noteworthy, but the Plaguebeast tied to it, happily munching on a fruit that lay innocently on the ground, had my attention.

Its horns were just as slimy and curved as I remembered, and its back covered in warts.

My initial plan was to ask the trader for the name of the Plaguebeast, yet for some reason, my eyes found the wagon again.

All exposed surfaces, save for the stone wheels, were swaddled in thick cloth.

Thick cloth... Possessed by curiosity, I drifted closer.

I pinched a fold of the material, rubbing it between my thumb and forefinger.

Indeed, the cloth had a weight to it...

This was no flimsy material, that much was certain.

But I needed solid proof.

I brought my hand to my nose and inhaled.

That scent.

The bitter, chemical-laden odor akin to a forge, just moments before it came to life.

My doubts were gone.

I knew this smell all too well.

I turned my head to the trader. “Excuse me, um...”

“You can just call me Aya. Is there something on your mind?”

“Actually, I do have a question. But I should introduce myself properly first.”

I bowed. “My name is Yori.”

“I'm about to become a mother!”

...What?

Aya held her face which grew redder by the second. “B-but I don't have a partner, so... it's not like it could happen anytime soon, right?” She finished, looking my way.

I strained a smile, not sure how to continue our conversation politely.

Just play along.

Bending over, I grabbed my chin and examined the young woman with a critical eye.

She had black hair, eyes that shone bright blue, and fair skin.

Her attire was simple. Shorts, a small bag tied to her waist, and a top exposing her flat abdomen.

“Based on what I see, you don't look to be pregnant at all. Therefore, with all due respect, you're a lunatic I have absolutely no idea what you're on about.”

My smile grew wider.

She blinked.

“A-ah... forgive me. I should’ve considered that not everyone would know about our customs. When an A-name person like myself—” She placed a hand on her chest, “meets someone who has a Y name, like you—” Her finger pointed my way.

“It means we’re destined to bring something new into the world, and that something is usually a baby.”

My hand found my chin as I tilted my head to the side.

“So let me understand. You're telling me that merely standing here, existing as myself, has somehow jump-started your non-existent pregnancy?”

Aya was silent for a long moment.

Then she gave a nod and smiled.

“Yes.”

Well, my existence must be incredibly potent then, because I don't remember impregnating anyone lately.

Is what I would've responded with, if Aya's words hadn't silenced me:

“However, there's also a flip side to this situation. For a Y-name person, meeting an A-name person usually means that your life is... coming to an end.”

I blinked.

“Oh.”

Seeing the worry on my face, Aya quickly added:

“But-but! To be clear: I don't actually believe in those crazy superstitions. I think it's just nonsense. In fact—”

Aya's lips moved, but I wasn't listening.

My hands balled into tight fists around both pockets of my pinafore.

One was empty, the other—

Clap!

I flinched.

“Right... sorry for getting sidetracked.”

Aya spoke in her normal relaxed way, as though she hadn't dumped a bowl of freezing water over my head, extinguishing the little comfort I had worked all day to earn.

“You mentioned that you had a question for me, didn't you?”

I stared at her.

Then at her hands propped under her chin.

Then at her feet still idly pedaling the air.

Then back at her smiling face.

“...Yeah,” I said slowly. “I do.”

I took a breath. It made little difference.

“Your wagon.”

Aya blinked. “Huh?”

I weakly waved a hand at the toppled mess beside her. “You wrapped it in Burnwear.”

I didn't need to form it as a question.

“Oh, you noticed that?” She nodded. “Yeah. You're right.”

Aya put a finger to her lips, pondering my words.

“Um... why do you ask?”

I ignored her, trying to process the information.

I should’ve felt relieved. That would have been the normal, expected reaction. I really, really should've.

But my voice came out with a flatness that I couldn't hide:

“...It’s Burnwake season, then.”

Aya scowled. “Ugh, don't remind me. I wish it could be Treadplague season all year round. Dealing with those Burnwake guards is such a pain. I'd rather deal with Treaders any day.”

I nodded my head up and down.

“Exactly! I'm glad you understand how annoying it is. Dealing with Treader guards is a piece of pie compared to them, right?”

Yes.

I was safe. It was my ward’s season. There was nothing to worry about. Everything would be fine.

And still, no matter how many times I repeated those words, trying to cast a spell on myself... why.

Why can't I convince myself everything will be okay?!

“Yori, listen to me.”

I blinked like I'd been slapped.

“I'll handle the guards. You. From here, you're no longer from Burnwake Ward. You're a foreigner.”

I shook my head in disagreement, dreading not only the memory, but the words that came after:

“Go to the checkpoint and claim you're from another Ward. They won't be able to tell the difference. It's important you do exactly as I say.”

Damn! Damn! Damn! Damn! I might've just missed my only opportunity to escape this cursed city!

I buried my head in my shaking hands, shuddering from rage.

Claiming I'm from another ward? Is he serious? They'd see right through it! There's no way they'd fall for that.

Back then, I'd argued with those very words. But his response was stubborn, final:

“Trust me.”

“Trust... trust,” I repeated the word, feeling my rage build.

I was here, wasn't I? Following his plan without question like a loyal beast obeying its owner's commands.

But my mind... My mind. I understand now. I subconsciously rejected his plan, and in that moment, I regressed into the identity of a Burnwake resident, even though I wanted to escape from it.

Maybe I wasn't even ready to escape from being a Burnwake resident. After all, I still had the Burnwake Fomite. Or was I just scared of the unknown, of the unfamiliar?

But was I to blame? What other Identity did I have? What other Identity could I possibly take on?

“Um... Everything okay?”

I turned my head. Aya was looking at me with worry.

Claim I'm from another ward...

I swallowed hard.

Yes. I gave myself a nod of assurance. Treadplague Ward it is. It's the perfect alibi.

I'll have to learn everything I can from Aya about Treadplague, taking in any and every detail I can about their customs, habits, and above all else:

The nature of their Blight.

I mean, I'll have to tiptoe about it, of course. So she wouldn't get suspicious. But with her help, I might just be able to fool the guards...

Now I'm getting somewhere. I thought with a sigh.

I dropped my eyes to my nervous, shaking hands.

As for the cloth in my pocket.

It was a Fomite, yes. And having it on me was a crime, yes.

The discovery of it was truly the one thing that could lead to my death. No doubt.

But no. The cloth wouldn't get me killed for smuggling.

Since it's Burnwake season, if they found the cloth...

If they found out I was running away...

I squeezed all ten of my fingers until they burned, then one by one, I flexed them feeling the sensation of returning blood.

Again, I did this, trying to force my nerves to obey my will, if only just for a little while.

Finally, I exhaled.

Then—

“If you're worried about the name superstition thing—”

Not bothering to say anything to her.

“I've already told you that I don't believe in it and think it's stupid.”

I walked over Aya.

“You know, what you just did made me remember something. Back in Treadplague Ward, there's this harsh punishment we have for Local Converts. They're beaten till they can't get up, then rolled to make a long row, and Plague God-sama steps on them one by one. It's gruesome as hell!”

I cringed. I could imagine.

My back thumped into the wagon, I let my body go limp, arms flopping uselessly, while my head lolled back to rest on the rough wood.

I gave a tired sigh.

And then, tucking my elbows, I leaned all my weight into the wagon.

From below, Aya’s voice piped up. “Uh… what are you doing?”

I didn’t look at her. “Isn’t it obvious?”

A beat.

“Well, yeah, I can see you’re trying to right the wagon.”

“Then why did you ask?”

“I meant why are you doing it?”

I let out a grunt. “Because,” I winced, “you’re going—”

Creaaak—THUD!

Finally, the wagon had surrendered.

I straightened up, dusting my hands.

“—you’re going to take me to the checkpoint.”

Aya blinked.

Then, with a smile, she sighed.

And to my abject horror—she rose to her feet.

I didn't know what to expect next, and my body sure as hell didn't wait to find out.

Keeping a careful eye on the ground around Aya’s feet, I waited in bated breath for the quake that never came.

Aya looked up and waved at me.

“It's safe to get down now, you don't have to stay up there.”

I looked down.

Oh.

In my blind panic I'd somehow scampered my way to the roof of the wagon.

Huh.

“How did you even get up there so quickly?”

I pretended not to hear her, squinting my eyes instead.

No cracks, shakes, or tremors.

Suspicious.

But I couldn't stay up here forever.

I sighed in reluctance, swinging a leg over the wagon.

Easing myself down, I dangled my feet above the ground.

Then...

I let go.

Aya clapped her hands. “You're quite the agile one, aren't you?”

I folded my arms, waving her comment away. “That's besides the point. What's more important is—”

Aya cocked her head, then followed my eyes to her own feet, wiggling her toes as if to check they were working right.

Something from the conversation we had earlier stuck with me and I crouched low, inspecting her feet.

“Last I looked, your feet were slathered in blood and pus—gross—but no sign of boils. Given the ground isn't rubble now, I'm guessing Treadplague Blight is dormant when the boils are popped, and only becomes active when they reappear?”

I may not know all about Treadplague Blight, but I do remember a similar loophole with Burnwake.

Not so long ago, I used to play make-believe that I didn't have it.

I'd spend all the spare change Fia and Alfred gave me to buy these enormous blocks of ice, then fill up the bathtub with them.

I'd submerge myself up to my neck, until I was hugging my shoulders, shaking with cold.

It was a small price to pay for quick relief. But of course, it was also just pretentious play that never lasted.

Ice melts, body adjusts, symptoms return. Always, always.

Lava would scorch my veins, my skin would catch fire. No escape. No relief.

Despite my semi-resistance to the damage, it never fully numbed me to the pain.

And then, there I'd be; a frown on my face, sitting naked in a pool of steaming hot water.

Aya hummed in thought. “We—ll, the boils do eventually grow back in a minute... but I never bothered to test.”

I nodded in understanding, rising to my feet.

“I see... So you haven't tested further to confirm.”

“Yup.”

I frowned. “Then—”

Aya grinned.

“I don’t have the Treadies anymore.”

To emphasize her point, she made a show of walking a full circle around me, stopping in my front once she was done.

“Tah-dah!”

So she was, in fact, in perfect health. Which meant—

I grabbed my chin.

Did she detoxify it?

Blights could leave their hosts, that much was true; a process called Detoxification. But the speed at which it happened... That was a whole other matter entirely.

It all came down to a person's Immune System tier.

Excitement began to course through me.

Detoxifying Treadplague Blight in a short span of time like that... it's quite rare. Could she be—

No—I cut myself off, trying to calm my joy—there were other possibilities too.

Wasting-born could detoxify as well, but it depended on the severity of the Blight.

I couldn't say for sure where Treadplague Blight fell on the spectrum but it could be anywhere from a Blitzblight to an Endblight...

Seeing my scrunched up brows, Aya decided to chime in with a smirk.

“Heh... There's no need to think that hard about it. I just used this.”

She produced an empty vial, holding it up for me to see.

“A Provisional Tonic. Of course...”

Aya brought both her palms together. “Alright, now that that's all figured out, let's get going.”

She got to work, picking up items and tossing them into crates. Once the crates brimmed with said items, she carefully loaded them into the waiting wagon.

Before heading to the front she turned back to me, a smirk on her face.

“Hop in, hop in. We've got a checkpoint to get to.”

I blinked. “Right.”

As I took a step, my foot accidentally bumped into something small.

I looked down, eyes wide.

A Flare-pin?

A petite, fireproof hairpin shaped like a flame.

In the final three days of my time in Burnwake Ward, Flare-pins had risen to popularity.

The reason wasn't because it was stylish. Nor was it because it was rare.

The reason... The hotter the wearer's body became, the richer the shade of red it took on.

It was a genius idea, really. All one needed to do was glance at a mirror and oh, look, your bright orange pin is now a deep red.

Well, it's bad news, my friend. That red pin is a surefire sign—in all literal sense—that the dreaded Burnwake Blight has come knocking.

Even before your Immune System notified you, you were informed.

The Flare-pin was not just for detecting Burnwake, though. Oh no, people being people had to find other uses for it.

Like couples using the pin to see who was more 'hot' for each other.

If both their pins were red, congratulations, you're soulmates.

If one person's pin didn't budge... That's just an awkward break-up.

And naturally, being a Burnwear accessory, it came with a steep price tag. Aya's just trying to capitalize on the fad. Money talks, I guess.

She must’ve missed it. I crouched to help her pick it up, my fingers curling around it.

[Fomite Identified.]

[Fomite: Treadplague Contaminant]

...

Ah.

I didn’t move a muscle.

Aya called out, easygoing as ever:

“You coming or what?”

I gulped.

A/N: Hope the tickling scene didn't give you tonal whiplash. Thank you for reading. 💚