The Artist Tests Her Limits

Once upon a time, there was a diligent young woman named Hokusai Kasumi.

“Hey, Kasumi-chan~ Can you do this for me? Thanks~”

She hadn’t agreed to anything at all, Kasumi thought bitterly, yet the pile of paperwork was accepted on her desk without a word. Years of conditioning to just accept the status quo kept her from opening her mouth. No, not just not open it, but to bite her tongue. Literally. Kasumi hadn’t tasted anything normally in a long time…

Sighing, she mentally adjusted the time she needed to take on her own job so she could include this new batch. Kasumi was competent, efficient and focused.

And this was a curse rather than a blessing, more times than not.

Hours that could have been spent resting was used on overtime that got paid half the time. Arguments with higher ups resulted in veiled threats of being dismissed, so she was just grateful for when she was given the money. People telling her about why she was so slow. What was taking her so long. Why was she stealing money from the company by working so many hours outside her schedule.

It wasn’t as if she wanted to. Not her fault others in the office just had to clock out at 5, saying they had important things to do. Of course, came the bitter thoughts, it’s not like I don’t have things to do, too.

It was more or less the same at her second job at the university, a job that she got out of sheer dumb luck. It paid much more than her day job, but unfortunately, they could only hire her on a part time basis during the night. Donning her uniform of a security guard, she monitored the halls in the science and engineering wing of the school. And this meant no sitting down, ever. The only time she got to sit was during her desk job by day. And she would be lucky to get enough sleep to stave off any negative effects so early in her youth.

It was better than her high school job of being a convenience store worker. And most nights it was pretty quiet and peaceful at her night job. It was much more liked, because she had moments to herself while patrolling.

What about breaks? Someone should be spotting her, right? Normally, yes, but her boss preferred to sleep through the entire shift, leaving his subordinates to do all the work. And upon seeing how diligent Kasumi was, her fellow guardsmen also began to slack off.

It’s all right as long as we have Kasumi.

Kasumi is so reliable.

We can depend on Kasumi.

It’s better if Kasumi does it.

Words like this that used to give her pride as a teen made her want to throw up as a fully grown adult who understood the world more. These were not compliments. They were backhanded things masked as niceties, spoken to make her feel like she would be obliged to do things. Binding her with unsympathetic, unhelpful, meaningless kind words. And if she tried doing the bare minimum, people complained. Because why wasn’t she doing what she did before? It was disappointing.

Jerks. Useless. Lazy assholes.

So many thoughts like this circled in her unhappy mind during those days. But she barely had to interact. If she finished any extra tasks quickly, she could then enjoy some peace and quiet.

In the beginning it used to bring her joy. Doing a little service here and there made people smile and show her gratitude. People still said their thanks. So Kasumi had done a little more, here and there, because it was her way of showing she cared. That she wanted to be friendly.

And yet, instead of these acts remaining as little gifts of service, they became givens.

And it went downhill over the years as new workers came in, old workers left. Younger people who were told that Kasumi assumed those responsibilities, but never told why she did it. Just that it was always that way.

“When was the last time someone said ‘good job’? I wonder…”

Not even in passing had she heard those works. Just a careless ‘good work’ that was normally thrown around as the shift changed. It was spoken between others, but it never echoed when she said it. Even when she smiled and put in a bit of cheerful energy she did not feel.

“Good work!”

“…”

“…Ah.”

It happened again. But she kept up that smile as she punched off of the clock and headed home. 6 AM. The sun hadn’t even come up yet. At least the streetlights were still on. Kasumi idly wondered what she should make for breakfast for everyone when she got home. What could she smuggle into a tiny container she could sneak into her room that nobody would miss. Her sister was going to be headed to classes, too, so maybe she should make something with plenty of protein…

Right on time, with the right timing. When Kasumi stepped in, it started immediately.

“Kasumi, I’m hungry!”

It was 7 AM, right on schedule. “Yes, I know, I’ll get to it right away.”

“Kasumi, did you buy me any beer?”

Kasumi held up the bag from the convenience store with a smile. It was swiped from her hands and she fought back the urge to sigh; more drinking at this time of day?

“Yes, papa. I also added a bag of your favourite snacks.”

A grunt of response as her father went back to the living room and Kasumi kicked off her shoes to go to the kitchen to prepare food.

“Kasumi, have you started laundry yet?” her mother called from down the hall.

“Not yet, mama.”

“Don’t forget to do it.”

The urge to drop what she was doing to get started on laundry was strong, but Kasumi held firm – she worked out a proper order of priority and schedule to perfection over the years. If she deviated everything would go to Hell. So long as nothing differentiated, she could get everything done without anyone getting mad.

She must not let anyone feel irritated or mad, or it would be her fault. And she would get it again. Kasumi touched her left arm out of habit. There was an echo of a throb.

Alas, that was hardly ever how things went.

As she was plating breakfast (and sneaking a few things into a plastic baggy she slipped into her pocket) the roar of her father’s voice rang through the entire apartment. Kasumi’s heart raced as she hurried to do things as the stomp of feet from the living room to the kitchen began. She had to get the plates on the table. Quick, quick, quick—

Kasumi had the last plate down as both her sister and her father came into the dining room. Her sister sat down calmly as if nothing was wrong as their father came round to smack Kasumi’s left arm and another, lighter (but no less painful) chop upside her head. Kasumi did her best not to flinch or act at all surprised, but not brave. No. No brave face. It got worse with a brave face.

He began yelling, words slurred. Looks like he speedran through his beer faster than she could cook this time. Damn.

All she could do was apologize as her mother came to eat, too, ignoring the intense scene. This happened often enough that there was no point in reacting anymore. After all, as long as Kasumi took on the entirety of the family head’s wrath, then they need not worry and just enjoy their lives.

“Mama, I’m going to go out again today,” her sister said as Kasumi took another hit to her right arm now, her dominant arm. The arm she used for drawing.

“Papa I’m sorry.”

“Useless girl, what the hell is this snack supposed to be?!”

Her mother just looked at her younger sister, smiling as they discussed things to come that day. “Oh, the rich doctor’s son? How nice. Do you need money?”

“He’s going to pay for everything, but it wouldn’t hurt to have pocket money.”

“Well, you can grab some from Kasumi’s wallet. I’m sure she doesn’t mind. Anything for her cute little sister.”

“Okay, I think about….10000 yen? No 20000!”

“Oh, darling, that’s no good. Kasumi should have gotten paid already, so I think you can grab 50000 from her and we should still have enough for the bills this week.”

“Really? Yay~!”

Just another scene, another day. While Kasumi got beaten black and blue while her mother and sister just enjoyed their lives peacefully. And when her father lost all steam, lumbering back to the living room after his tantrum, Kasumi would turn to her family and ask if they were all right.

Long ago, her mother would apologize and her little sister would thank her for protecting them. But now, they just looked coldly at her. Indifferent as Kasumi smiled through the pain, heading to her room afterwards without another word. At least it was just one of them losing their minds that day. A plus, honestly.

Kasumi didn’t cry. Tomorrow will be better. She’s sure things will get better.

It had to.

Even with her hands busted up, there was enough strength left for her to make a quick doodle to calm her soul and to soften the blow to her heart. A little house, a childish stick figure of Kasumi smiling next to a sun with spikes coming out of it. A simple drawing, but of something happy. A dream for someone who barely got enough sleep to dream.

A happy her. A little home. It will get better soon…she can reach that if she worked hard.

Penelope slept safely through the night. She had a dream about a day in her old life which left a gross taste in her mouth (or maybe that was the olives she ate the night before and will have to eat again).

On inspection of the house that appeared out of nowhere, it was exactly as she had drawn on her paper. Including the size, to her personal irritation. However this came to be, what she drew became real. Opening the door found the inside bare of any necessities. It was just four walls and a floor, essentially.

“I don’t know what I was expecting,” she sighed that night with a slight chuckle. But it had a door (that locked) and was shelter from the elements, so for the time she had not questioned it much. In the morning, she looked at everything more critically.

Tapping the walls and floors revealed everything was solid enough. The wood was pretty flimsy in all honesty, like something you would use to make a shack. And, honestly, looking at it now, that seemed generous as a description. However, it worked for what she needed; a place to sleep with enough room for a child of ten years.

And it came after she drew it; this meant that it was linked to her Artistry Skill, somehow. Penelope took out her paper and charcoal, having decided on drawing something else to test out her abilities.

A simple circle. It could be anything really. However nothing came out.

Taking a moment, she added a few more details, making the idea and concept less vague and defining this object`s existence with every stroke of charcoal. A little depth here, a few lines to indicate a shadow there – just a rough and quick sketch of a bowl. In her mind’s eye, she was thinking of a simple wooden bowl. And just like last night, once she put the finishing touch, the item appeared nearby in a flash of golden light right before her eyes.

“Wow!” Penelope breathed, amazed. Reaching out she touched the bowl, watching it wobble slightly on the ground in front of her. Seeing it actually be there, she grasped it firmly, lifting it up and feeling the weight.

It was a bowl, just as she had imagined, more or less. Pretty flimsy material, though, similar to the shack she made herself the other night. It was definitely wood, but its thinness reminded her of thick cardboard bowls from take out restaurants. But knowing this worked, her mind was alight with possibilities.

And so Penelope tested herself in earnest. This went on all day, with her alternating taking breaks to drink from the pond or eating a few (very bitter) olives to keep her energy up. The sky was once again becoming orange by the time she figured out all that was needed, with thorough notes on top of this.

This was what she understood of her powers:

That last one was an important point; she found this out after the shack disappeared halfway through the afternoon, just before dusk began to set in. Not even a full day; even less for the bowl she made. It disappeared after a few hours.

There was one more point as well that Penelope added to her notes so she would not forget.

Penelope figured out if she drew aimlessly, nothing would come of it, which made things very manageable. She could only imagine what would happen if she started drawing portraits of people as a commission and a doppelganger appeared! The amount of intent also mattered, too. When Penelope was desperate enough to want something and drew it, it would appear.

Of course, for a short, weak moment, she thought about counterfeiting some gold or whatever the currency was in this world. And, indeed, she did try – at least making something from her own world. A 100 yen coin would be innocent enough, right?

Penelope remembered every possible detail of the coin, having scrimped and saved harder than a super miser over the years to afford the meagre luxuries that she could from the 100 yen store. So whenever she had one in hand, she used to memorize the feel of them, their weight, their thickness and designs…

“Man, looking back at it now, I was kind of sad, huh?” Penelope commented aloud, a hand to her cheek. Without the fetters of her family and the constant anxiety of awful things happening to her, it seemed surprisingly easy to look back and judge herself. Hindsight truly is 20/20.

“Well, this looks real, but….”

Penelope couldn’t help, but to laugh at the faux metal coin she held.

Seemed there was yet another important rule concerning her power:

How frustrating and fascinating. Penelope could easily bend the metal, which meant it was not a proper 100 yen coin, as she had no idea what kind of metal was used for them. It was a yellow colour and shone brightly in the sun, despite its fake nature. Well, she was for the most part, an honest person, so it was probably better for her in the long run if she didn’t make counterfeits of the local currency. Who knew what sort of consequences she may face. She imagined there was not really any technology here to tell them apart, but if her magical creations had a time limit, then best not to get herself into unnecessary trouble.

However, due to the nostalgia of having it, she pocketed the coin to keep as a momento of the day she spent learning about her abilities.

“Status Open!” she called out, summoning her status screen once more.

After everything she went through today, she found that there were other screens besides the main one which displayed her main stats. There was another one for an ability tree, linked to her skills. These were subsets of what she had in Artistry and Imagination, among the others she possessed.

For instance: In her ability trees Penelope saw branches that spread out to subset abilities which were named Copy and Create, both at level 1, to Artistry and Imagination respectively.

The description under ‘Copy’ was [An ability to replicate whatever the user sees into a paper drawing.] Trying it out, it was like seeing a photocopy of exactly whatever she saw. She tried it out on the olive tree and got a 1:1 picture on one of her parchments. Because there was no intent behind it, though, she did not receive a second olive tree. However, when she put intent on replicating the bowl she drew before, she got a second one!

‘Create’ was an ability she accidentally began using since last night. In the proper description it said [An ability to create any subject the user can visualize.] In other words, it was this strange ability that allowed her to create a spot to sleep as well as the other miscellaneous items she created since discovering it.

“This is really handy!” she said to herself, very pleased that at least she could be comfortable for the time being using these abilities and skills. Cooking and Cleaning had no branching abilities, but she assumed that these were probably normal things to have. She really didn’t understand the whole system yet, but she was sure she’ll get it with time.

She did try making food using Create as one of her obvious attempts to test out her ability. Seemed as if that was also limited, currently; Penelope tried to create a Beef Wellington, but since she never had one before, it came out tasting more like a meat pie in texture than whatever it was supposed to be. However when she tried making a simple rice ball that turned out really good! It tasted exactly how she remembered them. Penelope was glad she could have access to that kind of thing from her old home, still. It was plain, but it was much better than eating those nasty olives!

She didn’t really consider the ramifications of eating something that could disappear hours later, so she didn’t think too hard about it.

As it was, she had a small plate of them beside her as she sat by the olive tree, carefully drawing herself a new place to sleep for the night. It did not need to last long as she intended to finally make way to town now that she had an idea of how her abilities worked, but she did want it to be a bit more comfortable. The young girl included an interior design as well, next to the main drawing of the tent she was making this time. A warm blanket, a soft mat, and a little pillow for her head. Tonight she was going to get another restful night of sleep!

It was on her finishing touches that she noticed movement further down the road. As she drew by the light of a simple lantern she drew into existence, another person travelling at night could easily draw anyone’s attention, even an artist like herself who tended to be super engrossed in her work (must be the years of conditioning to watch out for others at play, she thought glumly). Penelope never thought about what would happen if others knew about her ability and figured she could drag out the sketch until she was sure nobody would witness her doing anything strange. She even rearranged herself to sit on the opposite side so it would be more difficult to spot her, turning off her lamp and relying on the moonlight once more to continue drawing.

That was the plan anyways.

However, fate had a funny way of messing with the best laid ideas.

Penelope was interrupted in her work when she heard a body collapse on the other side of the olive tree, right on the road. She froze, clamping her hands over her mouth so she wouldn’t make a sound, concerned that something scary had happened.

She waited a few moments, her heartbeat pounding loudly in her ears.

There was no other moment or noise.

Do I look?

Time seemed to creep by slowly as she struggled to make her decision, worried about being attacked. What if this was a rouse? A ploy to get unwary bystanders to come out and then they got kidnapped? She’d heard more than one story of a good Samaritan coming to a fallen old lady’s rescue or even going to investigate a crying baby on the road to only get kidnapped for nefarious reasons! And that was as an adult. Penelope could only imagine the danger an unknown world with unknown rules possessed for a defenseless little girl.

Penelope remained like that a little while longer, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but nothing came.

Eventually, against her better judgement, she peeked around the tree to have a look and was surprised to see a young boy sprawled face first on the dirt road. His clothes were dirty and bloodied and he seemed quite injured. Just what happened? Had he been chased and battered? If so, where were his pursuers? Penelope had waited quite a bit, but nobody else seemed to come.

Or maybe they’re just waiting for me to come out?!

Penelope looked around furtively – aside from her olive tree, the area was basically open plains, so there was nowhere really for someone else to hide in waiting to kidnap her. Seeing that boy there and thinking about the risk associated with going to help, she decided she would go and check on the boy.

“But not without something to attack with!”

Thankfully, baseball bats were easy enough to sketch up in a jiffy. It may not be the most hardy of bats, but it would serve its purpose as a defense tool in case something went wrong. Armed with her bat, she left the safety of her olive tree to check on the boy.

Just what in the world possessed me to do this? Penelope thought as she looked at the sleeping boy.

After discovering that there was no immediate danger, she decided she couldn’t just let him lay there on the ground to die (though the fear of watching him pass right next to her was also very strong). When she got over her initial uneasiness, she finished the sketch of her tent and extra comfort items, before unceremoniously dragging him over and into it. Good thing she had decided to make it bigger!

Penelope was even kind enough to let him have the bedroll and blanket. The night wasn’t that cold and she’d gone without before, though this body wasn’t as used to such conditions (a good thing, she surmised). She simply did not have the energy to make more items. The ground wasn’t that hard and at least the tent kept her from being directly in contact with it.

This boy needed it more.

Penelope did what she could for him. Cleaning off his skin where she could reach with the water from the pond and a rag she was able to use from his own torn up clothes. She mentally apologized for ruining them a bit more, but his tunic was long enough that it wouldn’t matter so much. And she only just got the dress of her dreams, she wasn’t about to go ripping it up already. The goddesses and this boy could forgive her a bit for being a little selfish.

Ah, I haven’t learned at all. I’m still falling back on how I was, she thought to herself. Laying next to the boy without any cushion; it reminded her of nights where she had to stay on the floor because her sister insisted on sleeping in her bed. Her sister’s own room was locked when she was not in there, so it wasn’t like they could simply switch beds and their father was camped out in the living room more often than not. So to the floor she often was, using a pile of unwashed clothes to cushion her sleep. She was doing it again.

And yet, that lingering resentment did not fill her as it normally did whenever her sister came to steal her bed, despite having one that was softer, warmer, and comfier than her own little twin that Kasumi had continued to use since first receiving it in childhood.

No, it felt…proper. This is someone who actually needed help. And Penelope strived to still be a good and proud person who did the right thing, even if it was hard.

“Good night,” she whispered, curling up on her side of the tent.

Sleep did not come immediately, but Penelope eventually drifted off, confident she’d done the right thing.

The world had been on fire for so long, he didn’t know where the pain started or ended anymore. Wandering on the road for so long, just looking for a place of solace, of safety. There was a promise lingering in his heart that drove his feet forward. Above all else, he had to remain safe.

Or everything would have been for nothing.

But he had been running on empty for so long, it had only been a matter of time before it felt useless to resist the call of rest, of sleep, of oblivion. And before he knew it, he was out cold, laying in the dirt. Alone, bloody and on the brink of death.

The pain seeped out of his body, draining away slowly as he lay in the darkness. Was this what dying felt like? Was it always such a restful feeling? A soft light began to break through in front of his eyes, drawing him closer and closer…

His eyes softly fluttered open. Above his head fabric stretched across supports from which bright sunlight filtered through. The sound of a bird rang through the air and he felt warm and comfortable. Was this the afterlife?

The boy moved to sit up and hissed in pain, almost throwing himself back onto the soft mat he had been laying on. Pain? So, did that mean…he survived? He was still alive? Suddenly alert, he whipped his head around, trying to discern where he was.

He froze when he sensed movement before seeing it. Another person was in here with him. In his panicked state, he rushed back and away, ignoring the searing pain as he forced his battered body to move away. In doing so, he caused the tent they were in to collapse as the supports were nowhere near strong enough to withstand his weight.

The tent toppled, falling down on the both of them like a net and the two of them got tangled. He heard the other person’s voice shrieking and complaining. It was shrill with surprise. A girl’s voice.

As they both fought to get out of the mess of a tent, they would unintentionally hit each other. The boy got slapped a good few times (and he was sure he must have hit the girl, too, in his bid to get free).

“Calm down! Flailing around like a fish isn’t going to help – hey, ow! Stop hitting me!”

“You stop hitting me first!”

“Is this how you act when someone tries to help you?! Argh! I should have left you on the road, you jerk!”

Eventually the two of them escaped the collapsed tent, puffing and worse for the wear.

The boy remained by the tent, nursing himself, while the girl retreated to a nearby olive tree, still in a tizzy.

They stared at each other, wide-eyed and bedraggled, just taking in each other in the morning sun.

She was younger than him, maybe 9 or 10 years old, judging from her height alone. There was baby fat still present in her cheeks. She looked clean and well cared for, as far as he knew. A noble’s child, maybe? But no, that didn’t make sense, he thought, why would the child of a noble be all alone in the middle of nowhere?

Then again, he was not exactly one to talk.

“Hey,” she called out, drawing his attention to her clear blue eyes. She looked at him so directly, he almost wanted to look away. How could someone have such a straightforward gaze? “You seem pretty energetic. Guess you’re not that hurt.”

The reminder of his injuries made him wince a little. She tilted her head.

“Or maybe you are? Dummy. Here, let me have a look…”

She came over to him, looking pretty unlady-like crossing the distance on her hands and knees. Definitely not the daughter of a noble – at least not one he knew. The girl settled down in front of him holding out her hand, expecting something.

“Come on,” she coaxed, pushing her hand closer. “Let me see where it hurts.”

The boy remained unmoving, just staring at the hand.

After a long pause, the girl sighed at him.

“What? You don’t talk to strangers? All right, then I’ll introduce myself! My name is Penelope, what’s your name?” The hand she held out now had a different connotation, somehow seemingly more inviting than before. She smiled sweetly at him and he honestly felt embarrassed looking at her face.

He looked away and said nothing.

“Come on now. Don’t tell me nobody ever taught you manners?” she asked, voice teasing.

I do have manners, he thought petulantly. However, he really couldn’t be saying who he was. Who knew who this girl really was…

“I’m…U….Uh…Yule.”

“Yule?” she repeated, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she heard. ‘Yule’ sucked in a breath, staring down the little girl in front of him until she just smiled and accepted it. “Nice to meet you, Yule!”

What’s with that obviously fake name? Is this kid some kind of criminal or something?

Somehow, she managed to convince the boy named ‘Yule’ into letting him check him over.

Yule was an older boy, probably on the cusp of adolescence, if not already in it. A boy with slightly mussed platinum hair and careful, cautious periwinkle eyes that followed everything she did.

And he was very injured. And as far as Penelope knew, she was not blessed with healing abilities.

However she did have an idea in mind, though she felt bad that Yule was going to be a guinea pig for her next set of experiments concerning her unusual abilities. But! It would benefit him greatly, if it worked. If it didn’t, well, Penelope had back-up plans.

Her powers activated if she had intent and could visualize it. So maybe if she thought about it hard enough, she could magically heal Yule’s wounds! The mind was a powerful thing, after all – it was all mind over matter!

Pulling out one of her softer pieces of charcoal, she set to taking care of the worst of his injuries. Yule tried inching away from her, as if she were about to take a knife to him, but she was not having any of it. Besides, compared to how her little sister had been in her old life, dealing with a sulky, overly cautious boy like Yule was a piece of cake! Her sister used to bite, kick and scream just from having alcohol applied to small cuts! No way was she letting Yule get away from her aid so easily!

Penelope was small, but tenacious, holding his hand as she wrote down the word for ‘heal’ in Japanese on his cut up arm. Yule, not knowing what the characters were, kept trying to pull away more, even going so far as shoving his good hand into her face to keep her away.

“Just what are you doing, you weird girl?!”

Penelope had to resist to bite his fingers digging into her cheek. “Trying to heal you up, you dummy!” Once she got the word written down, she slapped her hand over the spot none too gently and closed her eyes, chanting ‘heal’ over and over in her head, thinking really hard on his body mending itself. Muscles knitting back together, bones no longer being sore.

A small golden light emanated from under her hand before fading quickly. It was honestly a shocking moment for the two of them. Yule, because he was not sure what he was seeing, and Penelope, because she was surprised her crazy idea actually worked.

However, pulling her hand away, she was disappointed to see that it did minimal change. The skin was healed, but there was still evidence of an injury. Looked like she needed to do this a bit more.

“What did you do? It doesn’t hurt anymore,” Yule asked, stunned.

Penelope wasn’t sure what she’d done herself. “I…I healed you, obviously!”

Not so obviously, I barely understood what I did!!!

“But hey, it worked, right Yule! Now hold still as I heal you all over!”

“Wh—No, waiiiiiiiiiii—!”

“Now, now, don’t be shy, take off your shirt and let Miss Penelope take care of all your wounds~”

“Aaaaaaaaaargh!!!!!”

In the end, Penelope used up two whole charcoal sticks to take care of Yule’s injuries until she was satisfied. By doing this she discovered two things: words worked as well as fast doodles did and that Yule was a very mysterious boy.

“So why were you so hurt?” she asked, bringing out some rice balls from her satchel to share.

“It’s none of your business,” Yule replied while inspecting the rice ball.

“….”

It was like this the whole time she was healing his body. No matter what question she asked he said it was either none of her business or simply looked away sullenly. All she managed to get from him was his (dubious) name, his age (14) and that he came from ‘far away’.

Not that she was any better.

“Why are you out here, you weird girl?”

“I….ran away from home?” she replied, uncertainly as he gave her the most bombastic side eye. No, wait, he was looking at her directly with suspicion!

“Oh, and by the way…my name is Penelope! Pen-el-o-pe!”

“…Weird girl.”

Penelope sighed.

It was going to be another long day, wasn’t it?