The Birth of Madness

The night was quiet in Jipon, and the ceiling fan gave a low hum as it spun in the out-of-the-way Chickadee Charms, a small but successful store full of bird symbolism. Part of the reason for its success was that it was among the only stores in the entirety of the city to stay open all night, meaning that anyone with a late night craving within several blocks really only had this one option.

Despite the length of the night, only one cashier was needed.

Currently, her head was in her arms, the only sign of her being aware of anything showing in the cat ears poking out of the top of her head, occasionally twitching when the fan's buzz changed pitch slightly; and the tail that hung off the chair and onto the floor, where it slowly brushed back and forth across the ground.

The jingle of the bell attached to the door gave its call, and her head lifted from where it lay, icy blue eyes blinking open. They focused immediately on the person who had entered, a young man who was dressed too barrenly for the icy weather.

The cashier leaned back and stretched out, releasing the kinks from her neck. The young man worked his way into the back of the store, before looping around to the desk, now carrying a package of gummy birds. He paid the appropriate amount, before making to leave.

She made to put her head on the counter again, ready to resume her nap, and for a moment it seemed like everything would remain normal.

The bell jingled as the door was slammed into the wall and her eyes darted up to see the young man retreating back into the store from two somehow even-less-dressed men. On their thin t-shirts was a blue triangle – gang members. From their stumbling to the fact they had intruded on the premises, they were also clearly inebriated.

The cashier sighed. Fortunately, even though she'd never actually had to deal with this kind of situation before, she was prepared. Reaching down under the counter, she felt the handle of her prized possession – a finely crafted rapier, that her father had always claimed was a gift from her mother. She pulled it out, briefly seeing her reflection in the clear gemstone inlaid near the top of the hilt, right under the guard.

“Hey, you two,” she said, voice dry as ice, “no violence in the store.”

The two intruders, who had managed to push the original man into the back wall, turned and leered at her. “And what will you do,” one slurred, clearly not processing the weapon.

“Scratch us, probably!” his fellow guffawed, and they both laughed. Her ears twitched in irritation. Clearly, they were not going to be reasoned with.

The original man, seeing an opportunity, hurriedly started looping around the room. When the two oafs went to pursue, the cashier stepped in-between.

“Outta the way,” one roared, rushing forward. The cashier ducked forward under his swing, and delivered a swift vertical cut deep through the body. The man stumbled back, and looked down at his now destroyed shirt, at the red growing, filling the blue triangle –

He fell to the floor.

The cashier looked at the man on the ground, and at the blood now running down the length of her blade. For a second, the world seemed to explode in color and sound. Nothing seemed real, and yet everything was more tangible than it had ever been before.

Suddenly, a heavy blow impacted the side of her face and she stumbled back, half-falling onto the floor. The second man was yelling something, his face red, but she couldn't hear it. The hum of the ceiling fan was roaring inside her mind, echoing.

As the man lunged forward again, she sidestepped his attempt to recreate the early hit and jabbed the rapier deep into his side. His momentum carried him forward to where he lay on the ground.

Blood was dripping off the rapier and onto the floor. It would stain.

Ashi lifted her blade to look more closely at the blood left behind from her strikes. Her reflection was red.

The humming was fading; she heard something. Turning around, she saw the customer quietly whimpering in the corner. His eyes focused on those on the floor.

“You may want to settle whatever debt you have to the Triblues,” she told him as she walked over to the supply closet. She found a rag and wiped the blood off her sword.

“You killed them,” the man finally said, sounding stunned. Ashi looked over her shoulder at them, confirming they had indeed stopped breathing, before looking back up to him.

“Yes?” she asked.

The man could only stare back at her, before shaking his head slightly. “I'm going to get the police.” And he ran out the door, still open – it had apparently become wedged into the wall from the forceful opening.

Now that she reflected on it, perhaps the man had a point. Shouldn't she be more concerned about the bodies on the ground? Or that she had killed them? Instead the only thing she felt was annoyance that she would have to clean up the mess. And, of course, she could feel something else...

She stopped the train of thought. Whatever had happened in the fight didn't matter. Trying to bolster that thought she made her way over to the counter, and sheathed her weapon. But then she could do nothing but wait as she watched the blood puddles on the ground slowly creep outward.

They were dead. She had killed them. And yet, none of the emotions that she thought should be happening were happening.

She looked down at her hands. She noticed a bit of blood on the sleeve of her jacket.

“Who am I?” she whispered to herself.

The next hour happened with her only paying half attention, lost in thought as the man returned with, as he had said, police, who did a brief questioning before escorting her to her house.

Ashi had always known that she was abnormal. Most people laughed because they were happy, cried because they were sad, yelled because they were angry. She had never done these things, because she had never felt their motivators. It had always stuck her as odd, and potentially concerning, but it had some benefits: the most notable being her ability to live without interacting with others. Life was as empty with or without company.

As she entered into her modest home, she waved goodbye to the police who had escorted her back. There would be no charge, as they were gang members who were attacking her, but the store would be closed for a few days, to repair the door and whatnot.

She closed the door and bee-lined the bathroom mirror. She stared at herself in it.

A black jacket covered her arms and shoulders, dropping down to past her waist and tail. It covered a loosely-fitting gray shirt, which itself partially covered long black pants. Then there was her hair and fur, which was a dirty off-white no matter what her father had tried, hanging messily to her shoulders. The only color on her person was her eyes, which almost seemed to glow in the dark bathroom, an icy blue color, a complement to her usually dead stare. But there was something else in her eyes now. Her pupils seemed more dilated than before, shifting slightly side to side, as if looking for something.

She touched her cheek. The punch had hurt, but it didn't look like it had bruised at all.

She stepped back out into the hall. She didn't want to look at herself anymore.

She paced right.

She paced left.

Right.

Left.

Right.

Left.

Right.

She paused.

She had to confront this.

She had killed two people.

And...

She had enjoyed doing it.

She slumped against a wall. It was less of a realization, and more of an admission. She had somewhat enjoyed killing those two people. It felt invigorating.

Somehow, though her logical mind thought it should be sickening, her body couldn't help but shake from excitement. No nausea, all tension.

She realized she was dancing her fingers along the rapier's hilt, and quickly unbuckled it, resting it on a small table in the middle of the hall.

She made her way deeper into the house, and reaching the door she wanted, entered the room. It had been her father's, until a few months ago, when age and sickness finally caught him. The funeral was a sad affair – as he had moved to Jipon soon after Ashi was born, and with no other family, the entire procession had been just her, wishing her father had someone to appropriately grieve him.

She wasn't here for grief now. Under his bed, there was a box full of papers. She had put off searching it before, but now, full of energy that wanted to go back into the world, she needed to find an answer.

She pulled it out, and rested it on the sheets. Removing the lid, she saw the tall stack of creased papers that she knew awaited her. But now, just on the chance there was something here, she had to search it.

The next few hours were anguishing. Her eyes skimmed over page after page, all the while her legs wanted to run, her arms to swing. But she confined herself to the room, and read page after page after page, until somehow golden light was steaming past the closed blinds, the box was nearly empty, and Ashi had what she was looking for. A letter to her father, dated from 20 years ago.

Dr. Kuki,

This letter is notification of the fact that you have been drawn in our random lottery. As such, you are tasked with caring for one of our remaining experiments, raising it, training it, and keeping it under control until we regain the resources to Collar them from Caldera's ruins.

I also wanted to take this opportunity to update you on our progress.

The Key to the laboratory has unfortunately been lost. However, we have reason to believe that the remains of the Empire managed to get ahold of it. We've worked on sending operatives, but deep ocean remains impassable, their harbors remain unfriendly, and the Wastes seem to only be worsening.

Our new base of operations is in Lugarden, 3rd Main Street. If you really need aid, you will be able to find us there.

All the best with your new ward.

Dr. Veran

Director of Live Experiments

Indigo Research

Ashi turned the words over in her mind. She wished she had paid more attention to geography, but still, she knew the Wastes were north of here, desolate and barren, crawling with all manner of monsters. The Empire was... northwest? No, northeast. Probably. She'd need to check a library.

There was more than places though. If she wasn't misunderstanding, the 'ward,' the 'remaining experiment,' would have to be her. So she was adopted? It wasn't too much of a surprise, she supposed, they had looked strikingly different, not to mention he lacked any feline features.

She felt as she always did, really, but yet also hurt. Why had her father, adopted or not, never told her? What was she an experiment for?

She looked back at the letter. Whatever it was talking about, it was more interesting than another night shift. She'd have to submit her resignation. This was certainly more important.

There was a knock on the door.