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

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

  She hadn’t agreed to anything at all, Kasumi thought bitterly, yet the pile of paperwork ted on her desk without a word. Years of ditioning 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 o take on her own job so she could include this new batch. Kasumi was petent, effit and focused.

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

  Hours that could have bee resting was used oime 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 pany by w so many hours outside her schedule.

  It wasn’t as if she wao. 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 sed job at the uy, 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 sd 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 aive effects so early in her youth.

  It was better than her high school job of being a venieore worker. And most nights it retty 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 subordio do all the work. And upon seeing how diligent Kasumi was, her fellow guardsmen also began to sck off.

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

  Kasumi is so reliable.

  We 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 uood the world more. These were not pliments. They were baded things masked as ies, spoken to make her feel like she would be obliged to do things. Binding her with unsympathetihelpful, meaningless kind words. And if she tried doing the bare minimum, people pined. 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 i. If she finished ara tasks quickly, she could then enjoy some pead quiet.

  In the beginning it used t 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 wao be friendly.

  A, 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 old why she did it. Just that it was always that way.

  “When was the st 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 ged. It okeween 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 clod headed home. 6 AM. The sun hadn’t even e up yet. At least the streetlights were still on. Kasumi idly wondered what she should make for breakfast for everyone whe home. What could she smuggle into a tiny tainer she could sneak into her room that nobody would miss. Her sister was going to be headed to csses, 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 venieore 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 kit to prepare food.

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

  “Not yet, mama.”

  “Don’t fet to do it.”

  The urge to drop what she was doing to get started on undry was strong, but Kasumi held firm – she worked out a proper order of priority and schedule to perfe over the years. If she deviated everything would go to Hell. So long as nothing differentiated, she could get everything dohout ating 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.

  As, that was hardly ever how things went.

  As she ting breakfast (and sneaking a few things into a pstic 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 kit began. She had to get the ptes oable. Quick, quick, quick—

  Kasumi had the st pte 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 ologize as her mother came to eat, too, ign the intense se. This happened often enough that there was no point iing anymore. After all, as long as Kasumi took oirety 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 tht 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 e 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 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 grab 50000 from her and we should still have enough for the bills this week.”

  “Really? Yay~!”

  Just another se, another day. While Kasumi got beaten bd blue while her mother and sister just eheir 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 proteg 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, holy.

  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 smilio a sun with spikes ing 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 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 iion 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 ies. It was just four walls and a floor, essentially.

  “I don’t know what I was expeg,” 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 questio much. In the m, she looked at everything more critically.

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

  And it came after she drew it; this meant that it was lio 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 cept less vague and defining this object`s existeh every stroke of charcoal. A little depth here, a few lio 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 st night, once she put the finishing touch, the item appeared nearby in a fsh of golden light right before her eyes.

  “Wow!” Penelope breathed, amazed. Reag out she touched the bowl, watg 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, simir to the shack she made herself the ht. 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 ear. 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 being e by the time she figured out all that was needed, with thh notes on top of this.

  This was what she uood of her powers:

  The amount of time spent drawing something did ge the quality of her creatioerials she used also ged the quality of her creatioing something costs mana (MP).There was no limit to how many items she made so long as she had mana to make it.The quicker the drawing, the less amount of time it stuck around.

  That st 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 fet.

  There o be i for her power to activate.

  Penelope figured out if she drew aimlessly, nothing would e of it, which made things very manageable. She could only imagine what would happen if she started drawing portraits of people as a ission and a doppelganger appeared! The amount of i 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 terfeiting 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 would be i enough, right?

  Penelope remembered every possible detail of the , 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 thiess and designs…

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

  “Well, this looks real, but….”

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

  Seemed there was yet another important rule ing her power:

  If she doesn’t know the pos of something, the item will appear as something inferior.

  How frustrating and fasating. Penelope could easily bend the metal, which meant it was not a proper 100 yen , as she had no idea what kind of metal was used for them. It was a yellow colour and shone brightly in the sue its fake nature. Well, she was for the most part, an ho person, so it robably better for her in the long run if she didn’t make terfeits of the local currency. Who knew what sort of sequences she may face. She imagihere was not really any teology here to tell them apart, but if her magical creations had a time limit, the not to get herself into unnecessary trouble.

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

  “Status Open!” she called out, summoniatus s once more.

  After everything she went through today, she found that there were other ss besides the main one which dispyed her main stats. There was another one for an ability tree, lio 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 brahat 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 parts. Because there was no i behind it, though, she did not receive a sed olive tree. However, whe i on replig the bowl she drew before, she got a sed one!

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

  “This is really handy!” she said to herself, very pleased that at least she could be fortable for the time being using these abilities and skills. Cooking and ing had no brang abilities, but she assumed that these were probably normal things to have. She really didn’t uand 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 iure than whatever it was supposed to be. However wheried making a simple rice ball that turned out really good! It tasted exactly how she remembered them. Penelope was gd she could have access to that kind of thing from her old home, still. It in, but it was much better thaing those nasty olives!

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

  As it was, she had a small pte of them beside her as she sat by the olive tree, carefully drawing herself a new pce to sleep for the night. It did not o st long as she inteo 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 fortable. The young girl included an interior design as well, o the main drawing of the tent she was making this time. A warm b, 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 ntern she drew ience, another person travelling at night could easily draw anyone’s attention, even an artist like herself who teo be super engrossed in her work (must be the years of ditioning to watch out for others at py, she thought glumly). Penelope hought about what would happen if others knew about her ability and figured she could drag out the skettil 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 mp and relying on the moonlight once more to tinue drawing.

  That was the pn anyways.

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

  Penelope was interrupted in her work when she heard a body colpse oher side of the olive tree, right on the road. She froze, g her hands over her mouth so she wouldn’t make a sound, ed 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 bystao e out and then they got kidnapped? She’d heard more thaory of a good Samaritan ing to a fallen old dy’s rescue or even going to iigate a g baby on the road to only get kidnapped for nefarious reasons! And that was as an adult. Penelope could only imagihe 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 e.

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

  Penelope looked around furtively – aside from her olive tree, the area was basically open pins, 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 che 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 defeool in case somethi wrong. Armed with her bat, she left the safety of her olive tree to che the boy.

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

  After disc that there was no immediate danger, she decided she couldn’t just let him y there on the ground to die (though the fear of watg him pass right o her was also very strong). Whe over her initial uneasiness, she fihe sketch of her tent ara fort 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 bhe night wasn’t that cold and she’d gohout before, though this body wasn’t as used to such ditions (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 te her from being directly in tact with it.

  This boy more.

  Penelope did what she could for him. ing 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 five her a bit for being a little selfish.

  Ah, I haven’t lear all. I’m still falling ba how I was, she thought to herself. Layio 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.

  Ahat lingeriment did not fill her as it normally did whenever her sister came to steal her bed, despite having ohat was softer, warmer, and fier than her own little twin that Kasumi had tio 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 e immediately, but Penelope eventually drifted off, fident she’d dohe 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 pce of soce, of safety. There romise 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 oy 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 k, he was out cold, ying in the dirt. Alone, bloody and on the brink of death.

  The pain seeped out of his body, draining away slowly as he y in the darkness. Was this what dyi 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 fortable. Was this the afterlife?

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

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

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

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

  “Calm down! Filing 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 someories to help you?! Argh! I should have left you on the road, you jerk!”

  Eventually the two of them escaped the colpsed 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 m sun.

  She was youhan him, maybe 9 or 10 years old, judging from her height alohere was baby fat still present in her cheeks. She looked 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 ly oo talk.

  “Hey,” she called out, drawing his attention to her clear blue eyes. She looked at him so directly, he almost wao look away. How could someone have such a straightfaze? “You seem pretty eic. 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 undy-like crossing the distan her hands and knees. Definitely not the daughter of a noble – at least not one he khe girl settled down in front of him holding out her hand, expeg something.

  “e 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 ters? All right, then I’ll introduce myself! My name is Penelope, what’s your he hand she held out now had a different otation, somehow seemingly more inviting than before. She smiled sweetly at him and he holy felt embarrassed looking at her face.

  He looked away and said nothing.

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

  I do have manners, he thought petuntly. 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 dowtle girl in front of him until she just smiled and accepted it. “o meet you, Yule!”

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

  Somehow, she mao vihe boy named ‘Yule’ into letting him check him over.

  Yule was an older boy, probably on the cusp of adolesce, if not already in it. A boy with slightly mussed ptinum 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 set of experiments ing her unusual abilities. But! It would be him greatly, if it worked. If it didn’t, well, Penelope had back-up pns.

  Her powers activated if she had i and could visualize it. So maybe if she thought about it hard enough, she could magically heal Yule’s wounds! The mind owerful 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 ing away from her, as if she were about to take a ko him, but she was not having any of it. Besides, pared to how her little sister had been in her old life, dealing with a sulky, overly cautious boy like Yule iece of cake! Her sister used to bite, kid 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 spped her hand over the spot oo gently and closed her eyes, ting ‘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 holy a shog 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 disappoio see that it did minimal ge. The skin was healed, but there was still evidence of an injury. Looked like she o 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 uood 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 a 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 iing 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 mao get from him was his (dubious) name, his age (14) and that he came from ‘far away’.

  Not that she was aer.

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

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

  “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?