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Years change as often as seasons. From the smallest organisms to the largest of mammals, they feel their effects as time inexorably marches on and what was once found may not be the same when retrieved at a later date.
Ginko walks the lands, both familiar and new. To the untrained eye, the trees, the mountains, the flowers, the animals would all blend together, but not for Ginko. He can see the subtle differences between them. The river of light flows equally through it all, seeping through the gaps on the earth, giving every space a unique hue, a unique harmony. Mushi can vary wildly from place to place: a mushi from the coast was not equal to one from the forest. Living in the spaces between living and not-living, they follow a logic all of their own, they form their own ideas of ecosystems, their own symbiotic or parasitic relationships.
His feet take him inevitably, from one biome to the next. He leaves his print on the surface of the snow; on wet mud; on white sands; on nothing at all. Rolling hills and rice paddies give way to high mountains; prairies with lush pastures to tall, and dense evergreens, and blooming flowers. Presently, he walks a familiar land, treading on grass disturbed by a morning spring shower that has mercifully abated. He feels the cold seep through the soles of his boots, the crunch of the grass, the resistance of the mud, as if reluctant to let him go. A butterfly crosses his path, orange with black and white dots. It is soon joined by another, then another. A gust of wind hinders their flight but the insects persist.
So focused is he on the little butterflies that he doesn’t notice the man sitting on the side of the road before him. He spots a boy, no, a man—young, mid to late teenage years perhaps—sitting in the clearing, his eyes closed, back against a tree trunk. A gathering of harmless mushi swirls above his head and shoulders, a longish one curls around an outstretched finger. Ginko wonders if the man can see them and what they are doing. Then the man opens his eyes. A spark of recognition crosses his features.
“Ginko-san!” he exclaims standing up. The mushi scatter, except for the one curling around his finger. The corner of Ginko’s lip curls upward. He’s used to this kind of outburst from seeming strangers. “It’s me, Miharu, don’t you remember me?”
Ginko’s eyes round slightly. He takes a puff off his cigarette. “Oh, Miharu. It’s been a while.” As if surprised by the passage of time, each man gave the other an appraising look. Almost as tall as Ginko, but broader in the shoulders and back, the bright and curious, but slightly sullen Miharu has turned into a fine young man.
“You never did come back,” he says. Ah. The pout he remembered is back. Ginko chuckles softly.
“Sorry about that.”
Miharu just looks on, as if it’s the first time he’s seeing Ginko. He shakes his head and asks. “Mind if I walk with you?”
“Not at all,” he replies, and puts his cigarette back between his lips. “How’s that sister of yours?”
Miharu’s expression sours for an instant. Ah. He remembers that expression as well. “She’s fine,” Miharu answers distractedly.
They soon reach the point where he figures they’ll separate, for he can see what he remembers to be Miharu’s house off in the distance.
“Say, Ginko-san,” Miharu starts with some hesitation. “Are there mushi that can change somebody’s scent?”
He takes a drag off his cigarette, more out of habit than to think about the question. “Many,” he answers readily. “Why do you ask?”
“I have this friend. His name’s Taki,” he explains, “he has a little sister who has been experiencing something strange. It all started about a month ago, when the snow melted and the first flowers started to sprout. Or at least that’s what Taki told me.”
He makes a pause. Ginko notices the buzzing of a nearby beehive before Miharu continues. “He says he woke up one day to the scent of flowers in his house. It was faint, just a whiff coming from nowhere in particular.”
“It didn’t stay that way, I presume.”
Miharu shakes his head. “He says it started getting stronger as the days went on, that it would change from day to day: one day it was gardenia, the next lily of the valley, honeysuckle, oleander, you name it,” he clarifies. “At this point Taki continues to be oblivious to the source.”
Ginko opts to remain silent, occasionally nodding or letting out sounds of agreement as Miharu continues his story. “He can be oblivious like that,” Miharu chuckles. “He thought that somebody was giving Saji flowers and keeping it secret from him. She’s very pretty, after all.”
“Oh?” Ginko interjects, as neutral as he could. Was that a blush he noticed on Miharu’s cheeks?
Miharu clears his throat. “Anyway, it got worse after a while. Saji was attracting wildlife. Bees, specifically. She got stung a couple of times while trying to get them out of her hair,” he continues, frowning. “And then, well…” he falls silent.
“What is it?” Ginko prompts.
“I can’t be entirely sure,” he starts after some hesitation, voice dripping with concern. “I noticed her coughing up pollen, Ginko-san. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Ginko hums. The picture in his mind becomes clearer with each revelation. Then, Miharu stops, suddenly taking Ginko’s arm. When he speaks, his voice is pleading.
“Would you accompany me to their house? They’re my friends, Ginko-san, and I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to them, but I don’t know what I can do for them.”
Ginko takes another drag of his cigarette, mulling over the request. He looks into the younger man’s eyes—etched with worry lines—and he notices the darkness under them. “Take me there,” he says.
Miharu lets out a sigh of relief and they start walking in the opposite direction.
It is his nose what first alerts him to the arrival of their destination. A faint scent of lily, or is it daisy? He’s not sure. A lone house sits quietly in the distance, bathed in the dying light of the sunset. The closer they get, the stronger the scent becomes. He’s much more unsure what the flowers are, so blended it has become. By the time Miharu calls its inhabitants from the outside, he wants to cover his nose and mouth.
“Miharu? What are you doing here?” A young man appears at the door—presumably Taki. His nose and mouth are hidden behind a handkerchief.
“Sorry to come by so late,” he says by way of greeting. “This is Ginko-san. I think he might be able to help Saji.”
His expression appears skeptical as he eyes Ginko. He’s about to say something when Ginko interrupts. “Hello. I’m a mushishi,” he explains, “Miharu has filled me in on the situation, but I’ll need to examine your sister to confirm my suspicions. May I?”
They are soon taken inside, to the room where the smell emanates from. In it sits a young woman, looking out the window. Her thick and lustrous black hair spills down her back in soft waves. She greets Ginko with a languid smile after her brother makes the appropriate introductions. Once in her presence, Ginko detects a slight change in the scent, a very faint undercurrent of decay. Ginko frowns as he examines her: her breathing is labored, her eyes water, and her nose runs with a clear fluid that she wipes with a soiled handkerchief from time to time. There are bits of pollen on it, either stuck or hovering closely to the surface.
“May I see that, please?” He stretches out his hand. Inspecting the handkerchief closely, he calls Miharu over. “See these?” The spores have an iridescent quality to them, pale yellow and thin. More importantly they have a triradially symmetrical form with spiky lobes, like a tiny pinwheel. Miharu’s eyes bulge.
Saji observes the exchange with a creased brow. “Do you know what’s wrong with me?”
Ginko rubs his nose. “Nearly, but first, have you picked up any flowers recently?” he asks. “Or gotten them?”
“I like to sit in the shadow of trees,” she answers evasively. “There may have been flowers around but I can’t recall.”
Ginko remains skeptical. “Really?”
She caves under his doubtful look, “Fine,” she exclaims, rolling her eyes. “Miharu here gave me some flowers some time ago. I thought it was sweet. What? It’s not weird. We’ve known each other forever.”
Ginko shoots him a look, as if to ask why he hadn’t mentioned it. The boy shuffles uncomfortably, while the older brother snickers. Saji sticks her tongue out at him. Ginko sighs, reminding himself that despite their looks, they’re all children still. He gets up. “Well, the situation is tricky but not dire,” he says. “I’m taking this if you don’t mind.” He tucks the soiled handkerchief in his pocket.
“So I’m not dying?” she asks.
Ginko represses the urge to chuckle, “No, you’ll be fine,” he reassures. “Miharu and I need to check on some things, but we’ll come back first thing tomorrow.”
“It’s gotten quite dark,” Taki says. “Let me get you a lantern.” They say their thanks and goodbyes at the door, and start making the trek back.
“I didn’t mean to hide it,” Miharu mumbles under his breath.
“Huh?”
“The flowers,” he explains. “It’s just a bit…you know.” His eyes are downcast as he shrugs, leaving the sentence unfinished.
Ginko chuckles softly, “Miharu, you can give flowers to whomever you want. It’s none of my business,” he says and adds. “I’ve been young too.”
“Could have fooled me.”
“Watch it,” Ginko snaps back with no real bite in his tone. “More importantly, is the place where you got the flowers from far from here?”
“Oh, no, not at all,” he says, then looks around. “It’s this way.”
They step out of the road, in the direction of the hills. Not long after they reach a small forest. Right in the middle, there’s copse, with tall leafy trees, taller than all the other ones around, almost as if it doesn’t belong. A small patch of wild flowers grows on the shadow of the trees. The place is quiet, the silence broken by the occasional gust of wind rustling the leaves, the chirp of a cricket here and there, and the hoot of a lonely owl. Ginko crouches to inspect the flowers, and opens his second eyelid.
It is as he thought: an offshoot of the river of light gives life to this area, creating the phenomenon of flowers that thrive in almost complete darkness. He motions Miharu to join him, and pulls out the handkerchief. “Notice the resemblance?” The spores in the handkerchief are identical to the ones emanating from the flowers.
He gapes a couple of times, clearly astounded. “I didn’t notice. I just assumed they were normal bits of pollen.”
He picks up a pale pink cosmos, plucking it from the stem delicately. Then hands it over to Miharu.
"Now give it a sniff," Ginko instructs.
Miharu takes the little flower in his hand, pressing it closer to his nose and inhaling cautiously. "Lavender?" He says, frowning with confusion as his brain tries to process the oddness of the aroma.
"Look closely."
As he turns it over to peer at the underside, he notices a faint glow lining the petals, almost unnoticeable. It is thin like a hair—thinner still—and pale yellow. As he reaches to touch the hair, it coils around his finger, then adjusts to the outline of his hand, stretching and adapting to its contour. Finding it unsuitable, it returns to the flower, changing its scent once more. "Rose," he says by way of explanation. "I don't know how I could have missed it. It's so obvious now."
Ginko hums his agreement. "Probably skipped over it. Then again," he says. "You were never one to pay close attention during lessons. Very bright, but wholly unfocused." He chuckles remembering their often unproductive lessons.
Miharu rubs the back of his neck feeling embarrassed, and Ginko chuckles softly. "C'mon," Ginko says at length. "It's probably time you got a refresher."
—
It's slightly before midnight by the time they reach Miharu's house, and yet they are still greeted by Suzu at the door. Her eyes open widely when she notices Ginko.
“Ginko-san!” She exclaims by way of greeting.
“Yo,” he replies.
“What–,” she starts saying before Miharu interrupts her.
“Sis, can Ginko-san stay over?” .
She looks from one man to the other, confused. "I'll prepare a futon and some blankets," she says instead.
"Oh, don't trouble yourself," Ginko starts to say, but thinks better than to finish the sentence—the look Suzu gives him leaves no room for argument. "I appreciate your hospitality, then."
"Anytime," she replies, leaving the room to sort out Ginko's sleeping arrangements.
They settle next to the light of a lamp, and Ginko pulls out several scrolls, opening and closing them one by one until he finds the right one. The sense of deja vu is strong once more. He hands it to Miharu.
"On the origin of mushi?"
"Just skip over the introduction."
He scrolls the first few pages, until, "these are the mushi we saw earlier," he says, pointing at the scroll, then reads. "The anemushi and entomushi are some of the most common as well as puzzling mushi that have ever been studied. Their behavior, seemingly their preference to work alongside animals and avoid humans altogether, has led some experts to propose these species of mushi as the missing link between the observable world and the supernatural, a theory which has been widely disputed to this day.
Endemic to mountainous and secluded regions, they enjoy a quasi symbiotic relationship with insects such as bees, wasps and hornets, with which the entomushi and the anemushi work in tandem to attract the vectors in order to use them to spread themselves in a radial pattern which mimics the look of the entomushi. Side effects observed include irregularity in flight patterns and confusion, leading affected vectors away from their colonies or natural habitats for the duration of spring. In rare occurrences the high concentration of these kinds of mushi have been linked to colony collapse disorder in bees. Wasp and hornets remain unaffected by this phenomenon.
Contact with humans is common, but not life threatening. Notable effects include watery eyes, cough, runny nose and general itchiness. Subjects infected inform noticing a faint smell of flowers emanating from their pores and an unusual need to stay in the sun and lethargy when away from it. As a consequence, subjects are prone to getting sunburnt and dehydrated.”
Miharu finishes and scrolls past the end of the section, and way past the end of the scroll. He even inspects the underside of the pages, looking for more information.
"Doesn't say anything about treatment," he exclaims with some confusion.
Ginko shrugs. "It's not life threatening and resembles normal ailments associated with spring."
"But it attracts bees!"
"No more than going outside does."
"Then what about Saji?" He demands. "You went into that house. That scent was not faint by any stretch of the imagination. And the scroll doesn't describe anything remotely similar to what is happening to her."
"All fair points," he concedes, pleased that Miharu is finally getting the lesson. "Which is why hands-on experience is important. A scroll can only take you so far."
"What can be done then?"
Ginko takes a drag of his cigarette, considering his options. He has never thought about getting an apprentice, let alone an assistant. Associations between mushishi can often turn sour due to differing and conflicting philosophies.
But he likes Miharu.
The boy is smart, inquisitive and stubborn as a mule, all traits that a mushishi should have in good supply. He's fascinated by mushi without fearing them or reverencing them over much.
"What would you do?" He returns the question back to the younger man.
"Me?" He points to his chest in astonishment.
“Why not you?” he replies. "Think about the facts of the situation and see if you can come to a solution. You have all the information at your disposal." He hopes his little speech is enough to push him in the right direction.
Miharu's expression becomes pensive, turning back his attention to the scroll in his hands. He pours over it with renewed enthusiasm, while Ginko checks his supply of mushi tobacco and other materials. Finally, Miharu takes his eyes off the scroll.
"Well," he starts, "I guess the first thing we need to know is if the mushi are emanating from the patch where I found them or if that was their destination."
"And how are you going to do that?"
"By studying the flight patterns of the nearby insects. They should guide us to where the next colony of mushi."
"And then?"
"We can take Saji there? Or thereabouts?" There's a lot of doubt in his voice, but he still needs to reveal one more piece to the puzzle.
"And how are you going to get the mushi out of her body?"
Miharu stops to think, racking his brain for the answer. He consults the scroll again, and Ginko deliberately takes his cigarette out of his mouth slowly, tapping imaginary ash out of it for effect. The smoke lingers in between. Miharu raises his eyes and suddenly slaps his thigh, the sound reverberating in the room.
"With that," he points to the cigarette. "The scroll says that's a mushi repellent. The smoke will drive the mushi out of her body and then the insects can carry the spores away."
Ginko smiles faintly. "Well done," he says. They reached nearly the same conclusion.
Miharu beams, basking in the glory of having passed a test he didn't know he was taking. But falls as soon as it rises. "But she can't go out," he says, crestfallen. "She'll get attacked by the bees."
Ginko waves his concerns away. "Let me worry about that," he says, getting up from the floor. He stretches his arms above his head and yawns big, suddenly feeling the exhaustion from the day. "Tomorrow you'll retrace your steps and study the flight patterns of the insects. "
Miharu gets up as well, nodding resolutely before stepping out of the room.
Next day, Miharu wakes up at dawn, packs a light lunch made from the leftovers from the night before and heads out to study the bees. Ginko stays behind. Not one to stay idle for too long, he prepares to make the trek back to Saji and Taki’s house. As he’s putting his shoes at the genkan, Suzu shows up behind him.
“Ginko-san, have you seen Miharu? I can’t find him anywhere.” There’s a slight edge of concern in her tone.
He finishes tying up his shoe and says, without further explanation. “I sent him to study the bees”
She opens her mouth to question his words, but says instead. “You’ve taken him under your wing again. I’m glad.” She walks away silently, and Ginko prepares to leave the house.
He heads over to Saji’s place, where he is greeted by the girl herself. He explains the conclusions to which Miharu and he arrived the night before and assures her that the problem will be solved in the next few days. She thanks him and offers him a cup of tea, which he refuses politely.
After, he sets out to survey the countryside, taking notes on the local plant and animal life as well as on the mushi. He compares his findings to his past knowledge of the area. It hasn’t changed much in the years he’s been away. By the time he finishes, the sun is setting. He makes the trek back to where he’s staying, and waits for Miharu to return.
Ginko doesn’t see him again until the afternoon of the third day, when he returns home looking haggard but with a triumphant expression on his face.
“I know where the mushi are going,” he says by way of greeting.
Ginko doesn’t reply but smiles and pats him on the shoulder.
Once he recovers—with a meal and a hot bath—he explains the results of his findings.
“This house,” he says, making an expansive gesture to encompass the space. “Is right in the middle of their path. All we need to do is bring Saji over.”
“We’ll bring her over tonight, then.”
Something in Miharu’s expression prompts Ginko to elaborate. “Bees, wasps, and hornets are all diurnal animals. It’ll be safer for her.”
Miharu opens and closes his mouth a couple of times. “That could have saved me some sleepless nights,” he says with chagrin.
Ginko chuckles. “We’ll leave at nightfall. Better tell your sister.”
—
This time around it’s Ginko’s turn to wake up before dawn. All is quiet around the house, and the light chill of the early morning hits his face and the soles of his feet as he steps outside. He stretches his arms and legs, shivering slightly. He regrets not getting his jacket. He opens his pack and takes out the mushi tobacco from its little drawer. He portions it out, five grams should work, but six would be better. He packs them into individual containers and puts one aside. He takes out a piece of parchment paper, cuts it in about the same size as the opening of the container. It doesn’t have to be perfect. He punches a small hole through the middle and passes a piece of string through it. He ties a small knot on the underside of the paper and tests it for strength. He covers the container with the paper and repeats the same process for the remaining five. By the time he’s finished, the sun is barely peeking behind the mountains, bathing the land in the cool light of dawn.
It is time.
He first rouses Miharu. The young man rubs his eyes blearily as he trudges over to where Saji’s sleeping form is curled under a blanket. She takes a little more effort to get up, batting Miharu’s hand away when he attempts to gently shake her shoulder.
“Can we have breakfast?” she says, and lets out a big yawn.
“Later,” Ginko says. “We have something to take care of first.” He instructs her to sit on a piece of cloth he stretched out on the floor previously. He then arranges the containers with mushi tobacco all around it. She watches the proceedings with curious eyes.
“What are those for?”
“To get the mushi out,” he explains. “Do not step out of this circle under any circumstance.”
“Will it hurt?”
“You shouldn’t feel much.”
Her face blanches at the uncertainty of the response, but nods resolutely. Ginko walks away, uncoiling the string as he goes. He rejoins Miharu, poised for action from a safe distance.
The bees don’t make themselves wait for long. As if on cue, as the sun climbs higher in the sky, they start hearing the faint buzz of a lonely bee, then another and another. Soon, the buzzing becomes deafening, as they are attracted by the strong scent of flowers emanating from Saji’s body. Three heads turn, looking in the direction of the house. A black cloud, shivering and vibrating appears over the roof, diving quickly in the direction of where Saji sits. She stumbles back, hand on her mouth, eyes bulging in alarm, but doesn’t leave mushi tobacco barrier.
It is Ginko’s cue. He janks the lids off the containers with the string and the mushi-infused smoke is free. It goes into Saji’s body with alacrity, getting inside her system through her nose, her mouth, her eyes, from any cavity it can find to expel the anemushi and entomushi in an iridescent pale green cloud. If he were closer, he would be able to distinguish the outlines of both, but from where he’s sitting he can only admire the combination of the color of both. The swarm, having found a better target, rushes towards the cloud, accelerating the expulsion process further, carrying it away in a southward direction, to where the next mushi colony will form, and the cycle is completed.
Once the bees are gone, Ginko and Miharu approach Saji. The unnatural flowery scent is gone, leaving behind only the smell of fresh grass, earth and morning dew. Miharu helps her get up from the ground. “C’mon, let’s get some breakfast,” he tells her, smiling widely as they walk back inside.
Ginko stays behind, and wonders where the wind will carry the scent.