Day One: Early Morning

[Bujin]

“Walk, walk, walk,” Bujin groaned to himself as he lugged his “equipment” around with him. “It’s just like last year. All I do is walk.”

The azure competitor grudgingly trotted along a path that he was making himself – in other words, he was making his way through a shitload of brush when he could have been walking down a path. It was easier, sure, but taking the easier route was to take the expected route, and that wasn’t the name of the game. Besides, he couldn’t afford to meet anyone at the point in the game – not when so many questions were left so unanswered. So far, nothing had triggered any memory or revelation of any worth. All he found was a pain in the ass weapon to carry.

He glared at the contraption as he walked, trying to figure out any use the item had. As he passed through the bumps of the path, Bujin grew weary of carrying the damned thing – hell, he was tired of doing anything in general. Noting that he had cleared that particular area and had another in eyeshot, he sighed and stopped to rest for a moment, using his weapon as a chair. It served that purpose adequately, though it was apparent that that wasn’t its original use as it tended to tip with he put any sort of weight on one side. Though Bujin was sure that he had this process down, the item tipped over, causing the midget to hit the back of his head on the ground. Frustration filled his mind as he quickly got up and kicked the object. It sailed off in the distance, and though he couldn’t see where it landed, he could hear it.

Plunk!

Bujin exhaled as he thought about what he had just done. Though the weapon didn’t seem like much, he felt like he still needed it somehow. Maybe it was because he was certain that every item delegated had its own use, or maybe…did Bujin feel guilty? He sighed and rubbed his eyes as he considered his actions – even though it was an inanimate object, he felt bad for kicking it. He shook his head when those thoughts crossed his mind. It was stupid to feel sorry for hitting something that wasn’t alive, but he had to go out of it. He just had to.

Sighing, he followed the sound of the fallen item. Luckily, it was where he was heading, anyway. As he followed it, he started to feel funny. Something about the area started to quell up some memories, which was just what he needed. He looked ahead at the water, watching the ripples move away from him, apparently still from where the object hit it. Bujin was here last year. In fact, this was close to where it had all started. The point of origin was obviously where he had to begin, but when he looked around the area of closely, he didn’t learn anything new. Sighing and shaking his head, he went closer to the water in order to retrieve his lost object.

When it came into view, the guilty feeling in the pit of his stomach grew worse. It just floated there, seeming as though it was staring at him sadly as it bumped into the wood. He shook his head furiously when that sentiment came; it was silly to grow attached to a simple weapon. Gritting his teeth, he bent down and began his attempt to fish it out. Trying to get it out with stubby appendages like his own turned the endeavor into a very bad idea, and instead of getting the object out, he fell in with it. His head broke the surface of the water under his floating turban. Spitting the water in his mouth out, he glared at the weapon once more. The pink heart on one of its sides was right in his face, mocking him.

“Shut up,” Bujin sighed as he grabbed the weapon and pulled himself out.