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It's as if the sky lowers itself to kiss the ground. Covering the horizon with a blanket of mist—so thick he could barely see what's within his arm reach. He found himself wandering aimlessly following the wind, through the ghastly forest his steps were heavy. Careful, just careful enough to not crack a twig and attract a beast. Just careful enough to not slip and injure himself. Ginko once again found himself in a pickle, where shall he go from here? The only way out is through. So he ventures deeper, it's riskier to stop—or so he thought.
It's as if the clouds lower themselves to rest from staying afloat. A curtain of grey hindering his sight. Is it still daytime? It sure is a lot darker . Exhaling his desperation, he curls his hand into a fist to stay composed. No good will come from giving up, no good will come from a clouded mind. So he takes another step. And another. And another.
Until his peripheral caught a darker shade in the fog. A shadow. It waves to him. He straightens his back, there's someone with him inside the fog. Ginko waves back, "Hey! Is someone there?!” He musters the loudest voice he can shout. Hoping it would somehow rip through the fog and reach that shadowy figure. It could be a help coming, it could be another just as lost as him–either way, it’s always better to stick together. That someone sways a little, maybe he moved, it’s unclear. And another darker spot grows closer beside it–two of them. Ginko’s heart skipped a beat, now unsure on how to react. He stopped waving. It’s almost intimidating until his eyes recognize a light from–presumably–a lantern.
“I heard you! Are you still there?!” One shouts back. Before Ginko could answer one of them quickly yells, “Don’t move! I see that you don’t have light!” He really doesn’t. The woods he encountered were all damp, probably because of the lack of sun. So he wasn’t able to start a fire, “Sorry for the trouble!”
They’re villagers. It turns out Ginko has somehow arrived in a small village, a small town, whatever and wherever it is. He finally catches his breath. Finally sitting down to relieve his sore feet, all that walking and he doesn’t even know how far this place is from the beginning of the fog.
“You must be tired, you can rest at Yoshida -san ’s if you’d like,” a man with the lantern in his hand kneels down beside Ginko. Watching him intently, most probably because of his white hair, it’s unusual. The other man was nowhere to be seen after he bids the two farewell from behind the fog—it really is hard to see, and Ginko gave up figuring out their faces all together.
“Who’s Yoshida -san ?”
“It’s my wife’s relative. She lives just near the well,” he pauses. Eyes staring into the empty grey.
“Is that where the well is?” The white haired man lights up a cigarette. Eyes still locked onto the lantern man’s gaze, “it is. It’s dryin’ up faster than we thought,” a gaze so solemn, so bleak. He sighs a little too loud, “I heard the other villages are fine, ‘s that true?”
“Depends,” exhaling his smoke, “is the fog always this thick? I can barely see anything even with your lantern.”
The man stands up from his position, seemingly avoiding the question. And instead he offers Ginko his lantern for later, “I’ll take ‘nother one from Yoshida -san ’s. C’mon, Mister, let’s get you there.”
“The name is Ginko.”
On the way to Yoshida-san’s house, so far, Ginko only bumped into one villager. For a village this place sure does feel empty. He mentions that to the person he bumped into; a man with a wide hat, with a shovel in his hand. He just came back from digging another source of water, “You should be careful, Ginko -san , there plenty of holes ‘round here. We been diggin’ them to get goin’, if you catch me.” The water has been scarce, and they’re afraid of drinking the rain water.. The crops rarely even survive. It’s so quiet because everyone is in their houses, either praying or just seeking a place where the fog won’t reach them. “Some of us are sick as well,... yer a doctor too ?” The man sways the shovel lightly from left to right, eyes locked to Ginko’s travel baggage.
“Nope, I’m a Mushishi,” he pauses before explaining, “I’m pretty familiar with strange diseases and phenomena, so maybe I can lend a hand if you’d tell me more about the fog,” he bites his cigarettes, waiting for approval. The two locals look at each other, then to Ginko. There’s no real harm in telling him the whole story–because there’s not much to tell him. “It’s been more than a year- oh, let’s walk to Yoshida -san ’s while we’re talkin’,” his hand beckoning politely, asking Ginko to follow him. The man with a shovel in his hand whistles as he casually follows the two in front of him. The fire inside the lantern trembles every time Ginko takes a step, he’s raising it as far as he could, just to see a little bit of the road they’re taking.
“The fog appeared suddenly at the beginnin’ of last year.”
“This year almost ends..,” Ginko frowns at his sentence.
“Right. We barely get any sun at all at the beginnin’ of it. Some men tried to cross the forest to trade us goods to folks in ‘nother town–one time they came back fine, the next ones though, oh goodness, never we heard ‘bout them comin’ back.”
The ground is damp. If one were to look up, there’s nothing but cloudy grey that would invade your sight. And the shade of grey is getting darker, darker, darker. It’s nightfall. “It’s especially bad durin’ the night,” the shovel man chirps in, “oh, Masu, ya haven’t mention the sickness! Ginko -san , I’ll have you know that regular medicines we have ‘round ‘ere ain’t workin’ on the sick folks-”
“It could be mushi then,” he slows down, slowing down the other two, “hm… if the people don’t mind me investigating at noon, I’ll see if I can solve this.”
“The sickness?”
“The sickness–and the fog, hopefully.”
“Oooh! Ya hear that, Masu! Your mom will be back to the farm in no time! So, er, Ginko -san , it’s because of a mononoke , ain’t it? The youkai ? Not sure if he was jokin’ though.”
Not the first time he heard of that. Of people assuming the mushi as youkai. He scratches the back of his neck, “Mushi are not youkai. They aren’t malicious–their presence is more like how we live together with the plants and animals. Sometimes the bugs will eat your crops, but just because, you know, they’re hungry.”
“Yer sayin’ bugs are causing this?” then he got his back slapped by the man he called ‘Masu’. “Sorry for his manner, Mister–also, here’s Yoshida -san ’s place.”
Right in front of him is a sliding door he didn’t notice at all. It’s within their arm reach–maybe the fog and the darkness of night really is a bad combination. Masu knocks on the door, sliding it open to reveal a warm stove in the middle of the room. An elderly lady sitting close to the fire, watching a pot with soup boiling inside of it. Her gaze immediately fixed to Ginko. Nodding, “Another traveler I take it? Please make yourself comfortable. Last month a traveler–just like you–wandered too far from the well and I haven’t heard a thing about him since. So please, come in, come in, don't be shy.” Ginko greets her calmly with a sour smile staining his face, that certainly wasn’t a good story to welcome your guest with .
They talk over dinner. The man with a shovel also stayed around to enjoy the soup. Ginko explains away his speculations again to the three of them, repeating what he said and offering his service at the end of it. Yoshida–the old lady–has her confusion plastered all over her face, “But the other doctor said that this is a mononoke’s doing,” she states. His eyes widen, “I’m not a doctor, but… there’s another one?”
“Yeah, sounds like loads of bull if ya want me to be hone-”
“I’m a medicine seller ( Kusuriuri ),” another voice surfaces before Masu could finish his sentence. From the other room, there he is, standing tall and dainty. Taking a position among them to sit in a very formal manner, “and I’m very convinced that this is some mononoke’s doing.”
That was last night. Ginko spent his time explaining about Mushi to the locals and the medicine seller–though, none seem to be buying his explanations at all. He didn't sleep even though the futon that Yoshida -san prepared for him was really soft. Instead, he went over some of his documents. Caught a glimpse of dim light passing through the thin paper wall from the next room, and a blurry silhouette of Kusuriuri. He’s also wide awake , he thought. But then–seeing how the young man is standing fresh when he passed by him this morning–Ginko is convinced that Kusuriuri slept while sitting. Because, look at him; his eyes are all teary, his mind drowsy, plus the exhaustion from yesterday’s long, long walk. Ginko seems to be barely able to even stand.
He decided to check on the farm Yoshida-san told him about. With a lantern in his hand, a long coat draped on him. He successfully found the farm in twenty minutes, precisely. He witnesses that the crops are strangely flourishing. Strange because farm plants typically need sun to actually do something. And it's not like they're very healthy either; Ginko could eye some edible fruits and herbs, but that's it, the rest of the plants look gloomy and droopy. He squats down to check closer, touching each leaf and hums as if contemplating something. These crops are mushi infested.
“Do you smell breath in the air?”
It startled him, the airy voice. Kusuriuri is standing right behind him–thin and imposing. His face isn’t visible due to the fog, but his brightly colored attire gives him away just as easily as spotting a red berry among dry leaves. The air around him feels a little bit colder yet calmer, “What breath?” Ginko humors him.
“Of evil. It’s mononoke.”
Are we sharing speculations now? Ginko doesn’t actually mind the different beliefs or misunderstanding between them. It’s just something about this medicine seller–maybe because it’s weird to him that a doctor would strongly insist that youkai caused this phenomenon, they tend to lean towards the skeptics most of the time. “As for me, I suspect it’s because the mushi here are very active for some reason. Some of them can even cause mist that confuses you. In certain cases it’s even possible for you to be trapped in the mist for a long time.”
No response. So was it not because he wanted to share details of his theory then? And here I am rambling about . With a pause longer than ten seconds, Kusuriuri then decides to walk away just like that. No closing thoughts no nothing. Just the sound of wet grassy steps he takes with his wooden footwear, slowly fading further and further. Leaving Ginko dumbfounded. What’s his deal…?
Further into the day, Ginko ended his walk before the fog got thicker and the sky got darker. He’s back to Yoshida -san ’s place–after roaming aimlessly to certain places because he got a little lost in the veiled town. He was welcomed with a pot of leftover vegetable stew from this morning.
Ginko rests himself outside the house currently, just on the porch. He thought the night sky would help him relax and finally get some rest, but he faces a great disappointment of unending void of cloudy grey. His hands meekly and tiredly rummaging through his notes, checking his documents with heavy eyes. He yawned for the sixth time in the span of an hour. But for some reason he can’t just ease himself enough to relax and sleep. The travel fatigue is also getting into him. The worst. This is just the worst…
“Having trouble sleeping, I see?”
The airy voice–it’s him. Ginko looks around and finds nothing. That is until a faint candle light passes through one of the sliding doors, and there sat a silhouette he remembers well from his first night here, “Are you not sleeping as well?”
“See,” Kusuriuri exhales. Now Ginko could hear–presumably–a grinding sound. Sound of dried leaves being crushed, woods being cut, and–strangely–bells, very distant echoes of bells.. Whatever those are he’s not entirely sure, he’s waiting for the continuation of Kusuriuri’s sentence. The pause stays and lingers around for quite a while before he continues, “I can offer you something to help you sleep.”
Ginko lights a new cigarette, “Why don’t you use it on yourself instead, Kusuriuri -san , get some rest,” said he. Eyes darting towards the sliding door once more, “You’ve been investigating as well during the day, right? Thanks for the offer though.”
“I can easily rest anytime I want to,” his voice dances with the wind.
“Why aren’t you?”
“I think your situation is rather pitiful.”
Ginko gasps his breath. He abruptly turns his body to face the thin sliding door, only to find the absence of light. The absence of Kusuriuri’s silhouette. For it’s just dark. He left again. And after such remarks out of all things . He’s starting to think that the medicine seller is messing with him. He exhales loudly, clouds of smoke coming out of his mouth as if visualizing his exhaustion. He’ll try to close his eyes for now, maybe he’ll find slumber.
And he did. Hidden in the mist is a thin smoke of burnt herbs–with smell so faint one would only think of it as something passing by through the night air. He found slumber, and he rested for the night.
Then woke up to an appetizing aroma coming from inside the house. He noticed that his feet grew cold from sleeping outside–it was such a nice sleep too, which he didn’t expect but he’s grateful for it nonetheless. He leaves after breakfast.
“I’m off again, Yoshida -san . Tell Masu -san I said hi if he drops by.”
Ginko heads to the edge of the forest today, near the hill he passed when he first found this town. Finding more plants flourishing on his way. His lanterns sway with each step. His cigarette has a hard time staying lit–the fog dampens everything, he’s a little distraught by this fact.
“You should try a pipe,” airy voice brushing the back of his ears. Ginko is once again caught off-guard by Kusuriuri’s presence. And it feels like this guy is peeking into his mind, reading him like an open scroll on his lap. Kusuriuri doesn’t show much, and it makes this unfair. “No thanks, I prefer them disposable.”
As usual, he went silent. Ginko wastes no time waiting for his response now, he’s boarded in his own trains of thought. Expecting Kusuriuri to just walk away, disappearing somewhere, just like every other encounter they had. But the long haired man stands still. His head facing the sky as if he could see through the barrier of grey.
His face half smiling, and it goes unnoticed for the other man is bending down, pointing his lantern to the ground to retrace some steps. Muttering under his breath, “Form, truth, reason… I wonder…”
What’s his deal, really?
Then, Ginko catches rumblings with his ears. The sky must have darkened, and he didn’t notice for it all looked the same–sunny or cloudy, how to ever see the difference? He lit his damp cigarette once more, now facing the long haired man, “We should go back, it’s about to rain. It won’t be pretty considering they’ve been digging holes around here.”
Kusuriuri spares him no glance, nor immediate response. His eyes still looking at the sky as if foreseeing the weather. And strangely, Ginko waits willingly. For his airy voice to answer after a few seconds, “A trouble indeed. I left my umbrella at the lady’s residence. Silly me, silly me.” Ginko grunts a little too loudly, “Then get going.” Kusuriuri stays still. Testing Ginko’s patience even though it may not be his intention.
The white haired man sighs again after feeling what he thinks is a droplet on his nose. He abruptly grabs Kusuriuri’s hand and walks just fast enough for them to catch up with time–but not rushed enough to have Kusuriuri stumble on his steps. Very considerate of him–Ginko is always a considerate person after all. The long haired man follows through wordlessly, letting his geta rushes after Ginko. His eyes peering into the fog effortlessly even without a lantern, catching everything that may hinder his way. Much different from the man in front of him, who stumbles and struggles to keep his balance.
And to his dismay, the rain starts pouring before they reach Yoshida -san ’s place. Ginko clicks his tongue. If it’s not because of the fog, he’d be able to at least guess that it was going to rain. And he would’ve prepared. He hunches over and covers his face with his forearm, placing the lantern just in front of his nose, “I hope you’re not cold, Kusuriuri -san !”
“My, my,” it’s weird that he can hear his soft voice between the loud sound of rain hitting the ground, “ you ’re showing yourself.”
“I… what?” Ginko turns his head even further back to see Kusuriuri, while also trying to look at the ground to continue his steps. And he’s shown his smile. He wasn’t talking to him. Kusuriuri is facing the wind, eyes sharp as if he has something to focus on between the fog and the droplets. He doesn’t understand but they have no time for this. It’s not safe to stay lost in the fog, so he focuses on his walk. Shivering all the way back.
“Oh dear, look at you two, all drenched!”
Yoshida -san hurriedly got them dry clothes and checked the fireplace, adding some dried wood to it. She tells them to get undressed, “Ya will catch cold real quick here, we can’t risk you gettin’ sick like us!”
So there they sit, in front of the fire. Yoshida -san went off outside to check on Masu’s family–she told them to warm up and rest until dinner. Ginko focuses just on that. He tries his best to ignore whatever herbs Kusuriuri is grinding right now because it sure as hell tickles his brain in a bad way. Grating and rattling sounds, it’s as if he’s grinding rocks with his mortar and pestle.
The outer top of his kimono is hanging on the ceiling joist, and so is his purple bandanna. Ginko’s coat and shirt are hanging from a wooden pool placed just beside the joist. As Ginko idly writes down his observations down on a paper, he glances to his side. The noisy grinding is still scratching his ears. He’s skinnier than he looked before .
“Mushishi -san ,” the grinding stops. Granting Ginko a momentary relief. “Your hakobera , I’d like to have it.”
He lifts one eyebrow before answering with a question, “How do you know I have it?”
No answer. Though, he fixates his gaze to Ginko’s eyes. It wasn’t even a demand, but a command. But he makes it somehow sound more polite than it actually is. Isn’t he cold, being that skinny?
After he rummages through the drawers in his backpack, he grabs the herb in his hands–and takes a dry blanket near him with his other hand. He moves his spot closer to the medicine seller. He puts the hakobera down near the grinding stone before he moves again to drape the blanket over Kusuriuri’s shoulders. Covering the thin body completely and letting the excess blanket rest on his own lap.
That was sudden. Even Ginko is surprised that he has the gut to do something so bold to this strange man. Kusuriuri still locks his gaze to Ginko, watching him in silence behind the falling strands of his hair. “It keeps you warm,” Ginko tries to break the ice. He has his body against the blanket as well to at least get some residual warmth. Not a response out of the other but a single thanks being muttered, and he gets back to grinding the herbs. And so continuing the noise Ginko frowns upon–but strangely, this second round isn’t so grating as the first one, so he lets it slide. He’s back to his scrolls and parchments, to his papers and brush. He’s finally figuring it out, or so he thinks. He pushes the tip of his cigarette down to the floorboard, not wanting to intrude Kusuriuri's focus due to the smoke now that they're this close. The place is full of mushi anyway. Though it's as if he's lowering his guard now. Warmth radiating from the fire. The yellowish light decorates their silhouettes well. It accentuates Kusuriuri's slender fingers. And why have I arrived to this conclusion?
Maybe it’s the koumyakusuji . It’s particularly strong that the plants are growing despite the damp environment and thick fog surrounding the area. He could’ve came to this conclusion earlier–what was it again that distracts him so? I still gotta wait for the rain to stop though… Now for the time being he’s stuck in the house. Sitting so closely, for no reason, to the medicine selling guy. His consciousness floats with the crackles from the fire.
It’s hard to see his face now, since his long long ashy blond hair falls down messily. Ginko stays still watching his hands though. A rather dry smell fills his nostrils. Definitely not the scent of his hakobera . “What’s that for?,” he asks, finally.
“ Kaze no kami should like this.”
…Alright? That wasn’t so clear as an answer. But before further questions, Kusuriuri continues; “This should help me reveal the mononoke ’s evil nature.”
He wanted to disagree upon hearing it, but honest to heavens he’s far more occupied with the thoughts of solving his own case right now. Not to mention the sudden heaviness his eyelids are currently experiencing. He got an answer though at least, that’s a drastic improvement compared to their previous exchanges. “I guess you’re genuinely concerned about this village, huh?” His elbow brushing against Kusuriuri's due to the distance. He wonders why he closed their gap? Kusuriuri steals glances, and he sees Ginko half-closed eye just behind his white bangs, looking down on his grinding stone.
“ Mononoke is something that should not interfere with human’s affairs. This one simply crossed its line. Thus, killing it is necessary.” I see . He doesn’t understand. But maybe, it’s because he never really faced a youkai to battle it, or anything. He prefers anything more peaceful, maybe, he’s unsure. He’s dozing off. He’s a Mushishi anyway.
I wonder if the dry herbs scent is making me sleepy… The rain outside–it sounds kind of soothing.
“This weather never fails to make one drowsy, I suppose.” And with that, Ginko drifts to sleep. Kusuriuri’s airy voice lulls him to his slumber without him realizing, so it seems. His head falls to Kusuriuri’s shoulder ever so slightly, his hair brushing against the ashy strands. Even though the lack of response from the other party seems habitual, it seems like Kusuriuri doesn’t respond now out of consideration–but who can tell, really?
And he barely recalls ever hearing Kusuriuri talk at all when he wakes to the crackles of dying firewood. The rain has stopped. The kimono and bandanna hanging from the ceiling joist is now gone. Ginko, still without his shirt, found himself comfortably tucked in the blanket. Which was weird considering the fact that he wrapped it around the other man.
Ginko barely recalls the dry scent. The warm light from the fireplace. And if not so hazy he could see in his head; The medicine seller blew air to his direction, might or might not be chanting, they shall not ever choose to harm you. It looked and felt more like a dream because his mind is so cloudy from fatigue. Speaking of the devil, Kusuriuri is gone. He left his umbrella again, Ginko noticed.
It’s nightfall. The cloudy dark grey outside is loud and clear. But no time is better than now, right? Ginko sets off after tidying up his belongings and putting on his damp clothes, to the forest he goes. Lantern in hand and hopefully he won’t run into any holes the locals have been digging. He figured the swarm of mushi is possibly near the outskirts of this place. Ginko heads there with Kusuriuri’s umbrella in hand, just in case he run into him–because somehow that always happens.
Arriving at his destination, the mist seems to be thinner. Maybe because it’s the outer part of this town. Lighting one cigarette, Ginko then puts down his backpack. Checking his surroundings and seeking for something. A cloth is pulled out from one of his drawers. He pours some of his kouki into the cloth, carefully, just so he doesn’t waste a drop.
The mist dramatically dissipates, as if getting sucked into the cloth. Clinging to it and swarming around Ginko without ever touching him. “You guys really brought a crowd to this place, huh,” he smiles albeit a little dejected. This could've been solved sooner. He starts walking away from his starting point. Carrying his backpack and shouldering the umbrella with the kouki induced cloth hanging from the tip of it.
Now that he’s out of the mist, he can sense that there are plenty of places with strong influence of koumyaku around here, leading the mushi to a new place wouldn’t take very long. Maybe he’ll be back in the morning. He sighs to himself. It’s quite simple to execute the solution when he finally figured it all out. The fact that it took him quite some time to even think about the possibility is baffling to him. In his mind, a scene of Kusuriuri’s face flashes for a moment. Quite a distraction… that guy .
He leads the swarm to the nearest hill. Not a long walk from the town, though the koumyaku is more concentrated in the area. Usually they’d follow the flow from here. I wonder what’s trapping them there? Ginko drops the cloth for the swarm to follow. Ginko's smile dissipates. The swarm swirls and latches on every surface the kouki is touching. “I wonder if the mononoke is actually trapping all of you there. That couldn’t be right.” His eyes glisten from the sight of kouki wetting the ground and moves along its nature.
“ Mononoke uses all means necessary to satisfy its purpose. So that could be.”
There he is. Standing across from him just a few meters away. A strange ancient looking sword in his hand. Kusuriuri looks like as if he's slightly brighter than his surroundings. Because it's night time for crying out loud. But his ashy blond hair shimmers as if he glows a ghastly faint light. He stands there tilting his head, looking down to the ground. Then locks his gaze to Ginko's eye, squinting. As if he knows where to find Ginko. He always knows . This always happens. And Ginko knows better than to question the unexplainable. He simply reaches out to hand Kusuriuri his umbrella, “I assume you’ve done your part then? Seeing I’m able to do my task without difficulty if that were the case.”
“The townsfolk should be free from the curse of Kaze no Kami by the morning,” Kusuriuri takes the umbrella. Catching a sniff of sweet scent on the tip of it but pays it no mind. “The mononoke had shown me its truth, form, and regret. The ill-fated would probably be doomed, but those who never wronged the spirits shall be at ease.”
Ginko can see the town’s faint light from this distance. Once again directing a question to the medicine seller, “Are you going back? You have your explanations after all.”
Kusuriuri nods politely but not because he’s saying yes. His gaze wanders to the vast landscape above the hill, “I’ll see you again when I see you, Mushishi -san .” Though it shall be for the better that we don’t , is implied heavily in his tone. So this is it. Ginko waits until the other takes two or three steps away before voicing his farewell, “Thanks. I’ll make sure to mention you to the villagers.” Even though he’s not even sure why is he thanking him.
Kusuriuri never turned around or stopped his steps upon hearing Ginko’s remark. Unbeknownst to Ginko though, the corners of his lips lifted subtly.
And in the morning, Ginko is back at Yoshida- san 's place. The lady exclaimed her concerns. Masu and the other locals however, are questioning him rapidly. About the fog and the news. They can see the sky now. The sun is peeking just near the horizon–something they haven’t seen for a long while. Ginko tries his best to narrate his opinion, and to report Kusuriuri’s solution as well–just like he said, he’s a man of his word. Though the locals still don’t seem to understand, or even believe a word he said, they’re thankful nonetheless.
“You saved us, oh, you saved us from God's wrath!”
“Thank you so much, my mother felt better when she woke up this morning! I knew it, the fog really was bringin’ sickness to this place!”
Maybe it’s whatever. All that matters is the town isn’t so dark now. And it's just as the medicine seller said; the sickness disappeared along with the night. He can witness the holes they dug clearly now. He bids his farewell to Yoshida -san and Masu’s family–now that his mother is well, he’s not so gloomy anymore. Save the thanks for the medicine seller as well, Ginko said in passing, if he ever travels to this village again, you’d surely recognize him.
If he ever travels here again. Though one should not wish for that as he follows where the calamity calls him.