"When..when will this..nightmare end.."

That was the poor samurai womens please with any being that could hear her, but alas to her current missfortunes, it was to deaf ears. She had now long since lost track of the time since her "condition", though to her mind, she was simply cursed.

At first she did not notice the suttle changes in her skin since her trip through the burned town, but one warm day upon her travels through the forest, just as the rain began she could not have neglected how her sandles repeatively began to break from her feet, or how easily her footing began to stick with each step and how tired simply standing began to leave her. Her focus was not its best, she thought best to rest to the cover of a near dying tree to give her some freedom from the pouring water from the sky, unable to even let her body ease itself to gravities force to alow her to lay to the ground, she simply removed her sword beside her and lay a hand against the bark, resting her forhead against the palm of her hand as she shut her eyes to gather her breath.

The sluggish nature of her mind, blinded her to the odd sensation as almost hair thin structures began to streach from her hand, anchoring deep and greedily into the bark of the tree, nore that the same occured for one of her feet. Soon she began to gain her second wind, but as she began to pull her water drenched form from the tree, did the imobility of her limbs suddenly register as her weight did little to free them "What?!"

She was still unable to focus, at first she began to pull and tug with her still freed limbs, thinking perhaps them stuck to the tree, but then she began to clear her mind, only for the flood of terror to spread in its wake. The small strands spreading from her hand and foot, were roots, her own roots. She began to think in a panic, but the image began to form in her mind, as if the curse was tormenting her. The monsters of the village before, were mushroom people, Matango. And the clouds of ash she had breathed in, were spores, she was becoming a monster she had intended to end with her blade. "No..no!" in a furry, she began to reach for her sword, the arkward angle at which she began to twist not aiding as her blade hand rendered useless, but she had managed to grasp the handle a bit clumsly in her grasp, steadily freeing it from sheeth.

But as the luster of metal began to shine, a sudden clap of thunder and lightning, broke a near tree beside her, the start enough but the crashing of the tree next to her own caused her blade to fall well out of reach, she cried out in panic, begining to reach for her weapon again, but fell ill as she felt her remaining foot begin to spread her roots. Soon she was to tried from her struggles, quickly falling to unconciousness. For how long she still did not know, but when she awoke, her mantango transformation was becoming far too apparent

It was quit some time ago, the sloth nature of the matango pulling her to prolonged sleep as her body continued to change against her will. She knew the nearest human populace was well out of her reach and hope of rescue was bleak, she could not even end her own suffering, as the roots of her new form entwined as if to torment her further along thet blade of her sword, her samurai soul itself and rot it. She began to cry, for the first time in decades since she began to train with her father, soon her mind would be broken to the disease of the monster she was becoming, leaving her only wondering to how long the prossess would let her suffer before that occured. And even then, she may never know freedom from the pain of becoming a monster and ender of human life..