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Do not look into any fire for too long a time, or it will jump out and engulf your eyes. It will curse you; and you will wish you had never been able to see in the first place.
Ginko took a drag of his cigarette and puffed the thin, white smoke out from his lungs. “What’s that amazing smell, I wonder?” He mumbled to himself, his stomach grumbling with hunger. All around him there was greenery, uninterrupted but for a brown, traditionally Japanese house in the middle of the forest he hiked through.
The house was his current destination. He made his way further into the thicket of the trees, heaving his rectangular pack, a tan and cumbersome thing, further onto his back. “Is that food I smell?” He smiled at the thought of good food. Having little money due to his somewhat odd profession, ‘good’ food—as in home-cooked food--wasn’t all that common for Ginko. And to Ginko, this definitely smelled like good food.
As Ginko approached the house, the smell grew stronger and his mouth began to water. The pangs of hunger resonating in his stomach smile grew, as well. Finally, he arrived at the front of the house and knocked gently. “Hello?” He called out. A quiet, gentle voice answered back, “Come in.”
If it had not been for the fact that he was actually listening for a voice, he would have dismissed the sound as the whispering of the wind.
An eyebrow raised, Ginko pulled back the screen of the home and entered. “Close it! Close it quickly,” The voice implored, panicked about letting in the light for some reason Ginko couldn’t fathom. He did as commanded and for a moment, he was unable to see anything. There was just pitch black darkness coating the inside of the house, like a smothering blanket of onyx colored material.
As his eyes adjusted, however, he began to see outlines of things. He saw a small, short table in the center of the room, next to a dim pit of fire, the embers of which were just barley lit. He saw a sleeping mat rolled up in the corner of the room. The rest of the room was bare, except for one other thing. A frail-seeming woman sat quietly in front of the small table, her eyes shut tightly.
“Are you the one who sent for me?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper. The silence was so heavy in that large home, he dared not break it. The woman nodded, then spoke, barley louder than before.
“I was told by a friend that you have the power to tell me what is wrong with me, why I see these things in the light, and that maybe, possibly, you could cure me.” Ginko shrugged and eyed the woman carefully. “I might be able to. It all depends what’s wrong with you. You said it was something to do with your eyes, I believe.” The woman nodded again and slowly opened her eyes.
There was nothing special about them, Ginko noticed. They are dark, obsidian eyes, dimly glowing by the light of the almost-dead embers. “I can see you, yet the colors don’t appear. The fireflies haven’t appeared yet, either. How odd.”
She sighed and closed her eyes quickly, bringing down a veil of darkness worse than the one that filled the house. She pinched the bridge of her nose, suddenly in thought, and sat quietly. “The fireflies?” Ginko asked curiously, watching her movements. She nodded.
“The fireflies.”
Ginko rubbed his chin and, slowly put down his pack. He then walked over to the little table before the woman. He sat down and watched her, thinking about what to do next, how to diagnose her.
“Tell me about yourself and how these fireflies came to be.” The woman nodded and opened her eyes slightly, staring at the table. Her gaze switched upward, toward the space between Ginko’s eyes, a trick to make him believe that she was actually staring into his eyes.
“My name is Shizu. I am twenty-two years old. I have lived in this house all my life. And it is my own fault that I have never left it.”
As a young girl, Shizu had been attracted to the flames that burned at night throughout her home. She was so afraid of the dark, young Shizu was, that during the night, all lights to be found had to be used, for fear that the darkness might consume her.
Her mother and father found nothing wrong with her fear of the dark, nor her affinity for fire. The mystery of fire was something every human being pondered at some point. They just thought Shizu had chosen her childhood to ponder it. They were wrong.
Shizu never told her parents for fear that they would never understand. She saw strange creatures floating about the rooms of her home, particularly around the flames that burned in the night. They were phantom-esque beings that glowed a soft, pearly white, like the fabric of the wedding kimono her mother had once taken out of a box and shown her. They came in so many shapes and sizes and were so very wonderful to Shizu.
The dark haired girl heard their whispers and saw them dance. She never knew what they said, these formless creatures, for their speech was so soft. All she knew was that she had to understand them. She took to staring into the fire for long periods of time, shutting her eyes tightly, and then opening them again. When she did this, firefly-like creatures would appear, just in the corners of her eyes, though. If she turned her eye to look directly at them, they would disappear.
At first, the fireflies only lasted for a short time, five minutes, at the most. But as time marched on and Shizu stared into the fire longer and longer, the fireflies stayed in her vision for more and more time. They were so beautiful, the way the little fireflies danced for her. They shimmered and swayed and she wanted them there forever, always accompanying her and chasing away the darkness of the night time.
One night, she stared into the fire for a long time. It must’ve been an hour that she stared. She hardly blinked, even when the embers began to die. Finally, when she closed her watery, tired eyes and opened them again, the fireflies danced lazily about. She smiled and watched them for a while. Then, feeling tired, began to get ready for bed time. Thinking they would be gone by morning, Shizu went to sleep.
The next morning, the fireflies were still in her vision. Shizu felt panic rise up in her. They should have gone away, she thought to herself. Why are they still here? Shizu tried to go about her day normally, but it was impossible. Everywhere she looked, an outline of colors made by the little fireflies in her vision would form around everything living. Some would appear white or blue in the outlines. But others would appear in varying shades of red. The colors terrified her endlessly.
She told her parents, but they had no idea what it could be or what the colors could mean. They visited every doctor, every person they thought could help their daughter be rid of the colors that surrounded everything she saw. None of them found anything in her eyes that would cause such a thing to occur. “She’s probably just imagining it,” they would say. Shizu wanted to cry because she could see the colors, they were horrible, and the meaning of them became clear to her quite quickly after she told her parents.
She could see how close someone was to dying. She knew when they would die due to the intensity of the color. So for the sake of her already decaying sanity, she stayed in her home more and more often, until eventually, she never went out. She was too afraid of stepping outside and seeing the numbered days that were left of everything that was alive all around her.
It so happened that one day, she looked at her mother and saw a bright red color, burning like the sun. Shizu bit her lip to keep her mother from seeing the tears that welled up in her eyes. “Mother? Have you been feeling alright lately?” In the darkness of their home, her mother lifted her eyes up from the clothes she had been folding and looked at Shizu quizzically. “Yes, of course I have, dear. Why wouldn’t I?” Still, the colors plagued Shizu and she felt her mother was in danger.
Five days after seeing the first shade of red on her mother’s outline, her mother died of an unknown illness. Shizu was beside herself with greif.
Maybe…Maybe if I had told her, she might’ve done something different and she would still be alive, Shizu thought to herself.
Shizu was left with only her father now, and even he did not know what the strange colors she saw foretold. She could not bring herself to tell him. Then, about a year after her mother had died, her father’s outline appeared dim scarlet, a warning that her father had little time left of his life.
Again, as she had done with her mother, Shizu asked, “Father, have you been feeling alright lately?” Her father nodded, his voice stuck in his dry throat. His grief over his wife dying a year before was still as strong as it had been on the day she died.
“I’m fine, Shizu,” he murmured hoarsely. Shizu bit her lip and tried to muster the courage to tell her father what she knew would happen, but just couldn’t bring herself to. A month later, her father died. He hung himself just outside of Shizu’s home.
Shizu never told anyone the truth of his death, however. She managed to bury him herself and told a half-lie to those who asked regarding the circumstances of his death. “He died of a broken heart,” she would whisper to anyone who visited.
And in some ways, he really had.
That had been eight years before, when Shizu was fourteen. She had lived alone after that. She survived on the small amounts of food the villagers near the edge of the forest gave her out of pity that resulted from the fact that she had lost both her parents. She told them to leave the food outside and let almost no one enter her home, but for a select few. And so, Shizu lived in loneliness and silence until the day she was told of Ginko, the man who might be able to cure her of the horrible fireflies that lived in her eyes.
“That’s my story, Ginko,” Shizu said, bowing her head lower. She pursed her lips upon ending her story. Ginko was silent for a few moments, thinking. Suddenly, he rose from his place in front of her and rushed to his pack to retrieve a scroll of some form. Unrolling it, he pointed to a creature. Opening her eyes slightly and staring at the paper, Shizu stared at the drawing of the creature. It looked nothing like the fireflies she saw in her eyes.
“What is it?”
“It’s called Hoka-han.”
“I see that from the words under the drawing, but what kind of creature? It looks like one of the creatures I saw around the fire as a child. What are those things?” Ginko smiled. “They’re called mushi.”
Shizu raised an eyebrow. “Mushi?”
Ginko nodded. “Think about it like this.” Ginko held up his left arm for her to see. “Imagine each of the five fingers on your hand represents all life. The tip of your middle finger would be us, humans, as we’re the farthest away from the original life forms that once filled the Earth. Plants, animals and all kinds of other creatures all people see are the other four fingers. Now, if you trace the veins that flow from each of your fingers, they all join together at your wrist, right?” Shizu nodded, tracing her index from the middle finger of her left hand to the wrist.
“As you move upward, the life forms become more and more simple, more and more like the earliest creatures that inhabited the Earth. Eventually, around here,” Ginko pointed at the area above his heart. “You reach the earliest life forms, the ghost-like beings only certain people can see, called mushi.”
Shizu nodded. “So, if I’m correct, mushi are alive, but most people can’t see them?” Ginko nodded. “Their closest to what’s known as the River of Life, or Koki.” Shizu nodded. “Alright, so I can see these things. Why is it important?”
“Because those Hoka-han are what’s in your eyes. There might be a way to get them out, even if they’ve been there for so long. I just need to see the condition of your eyes better.” Shizu shut her eyes. “No. I’m afraid that I’ll see the colors.”
Ginko sighed loudly. “No you won’t. If you haven’t seen them by now, you won’t see them the duration of my stay. I have a tendency to disturb mushi, put them out of their normal habits. Besides, it’ll only take a few moments.” Shizu sighed, still wary, and slowly let her eyes flutter open.
“Fine,” She mumbled. Ginko’s mouth remained a straight line as he reached into his pack and pulled out a candle and a tool that appeared to be a telescope.
“Sit directly in front of me.” Shizu obeyed him and sat down in front of him. “Open your eyes wide.” Again, Shizu obeyed, bracing herself for the colors. There was nothing. She sighed in relief. The fireflies buzzed about her eyes, dancing quickly.
As Ginko peered in her eyes with the telescope tool, she spoke. “How did they get in my eyes?” Ginko replied slowly, as he was distracted.
“When you kept staring at the fire. That one time you kept your eyes open to long, they were able to get in and set up a colony. They glow if you look close enough into the eye. You’ve got them for sure.” Ginko put the telescope away. “Close your eyes.”
Shizu nodded and let her eyelids slide closed over her eyes. Familiar darkness enveloped her. “You can cure me, then?” Ginko nodded, then realized that she had closed your eyes on his command. “Yes, I can. The cure is simple. You get them out the way you brought them in.” A knot of fear began to tie itself in Shizu’s stomach. “You don’t mean..?”
“You have to stare into the fire like last time, Shizu.” Shizu gulped. After a few moments of silence, Shizu spoke. “If that’s what will cure me from seeing all these premonitions, then it is what I must do.” Ginko lit the candle and put out the embers in the small fire pit in the center of the room.
“I’m going to put the candle in front of your eyes and you must stare at it, unblinkingly, until I tell you to close your eyes.” Shizu nodded. “Alright, I’m ready.” Ginko lifted the flickering flame close to Shizu’s eyes. “Open your eyes.”
Shizu opened her eyes wide. For a moment, nothing seemed to happen. Then, Ginko saw a white, flurry of a creature slide through her eye and sway into the candle’s fire, moving around it like a moth. Soon, more of the creatures slid out of her eyes, all of them gathering around the flame, dancing and whispering softly.
“They’re so beautiful,” Shizu murmured, her eyes unblinking. Ginko nodded, blinking every so often and watching the dance of the silvery, shimmering Hoka-han. Finally, when the last straggler of the mushi was out of Shizu’s eyes, Ginko snapped into action.
“Close your eyes quickly, Shizu!”
Shizu shut her eyes and waited. Ginko blew out the candle, leaving the room in pitch darkness. He watched, his eyes narrowed, as the Hoka-han floated up toward the ceiling and in a soft pulse of white light, faded away. “You can open your eyes, Shizu. They’re gone.”
Slowly, Shizu opened her eyes. “I won’t see the colors now?” Ginko nodded. “Do you want me to open a screen?” Shizu nodded eagerly, then realized Ginko probably couldn’t see her in the darkness of her home. “Yes! Please!” Ginko got up and slowly pulled back a screen door.
Shizu squinted her eyes, the brightness of the outdoors hurting her, at first. After a few moments, her eyes adjusted and she laughed in joy. “The colors are gone! Gone!” She jumped up and ran outside, twirling in the brightness of the sun, dancing joyously.
“Thank you! Thank you so much!” She laughed loudly and ran up to Ginko, who watched her running around like a small child. “Thank you so much, Ginko.” She murmured softly, smiling. Ginko waved her away, a grin appearing on his face. “I’ve done this before, although, I’ve never seen a case quite as bad as yours. Still, it wasn’t incurable.”
“What happened to the Hoka-han, anyway?” Although the mushi terrified her, a part of her still worried about them. “They’re fine. They floated away to go find another fire. They’re traveling mushi and often don’t put down roots, unless they can find a living host, like you.” Shizu nodded.
“I’m glad. Even though they scare me, they were still the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.”Ginko nodded. “Mushi are often like that.” Ginko smiled, although barley. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must be off.” Shizu frowned. “But you’ve traveled such a long way! You must be hungry.”
Ginko was about to protest when his stomach growled again. The memory of his aching stomach returned to him. He smiled and scratched the back of his head, slightly ashamed. “I guess a little food wouldn’t hurt. But then I’ve got to go. I’ll consider the food payment for helping you.” Shizu nodded, smiling.
She and Ginko ate their meal outside, watching the sunset and the trees turn bright crimson in the dying light of the day. “Hey, Ginko. Can I have a scroll or two of the mushi information? Cures included?” Ginko raised an eyebrow.
“I want to help others, like you helped me. I want to live in a village and help people. I mean, I really don’t have anything else to do here,” Shizu said, gesturing wildly at her house. Ginko thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Sure. It can’t hurt to have someone who knows about mushi in a village. I’ll leave you a couple.”
It is said that there was once a girl who could see the colors of death and shut herself away to prevent herself and others from the suffering those colors caused. Rumors of the girl went away slowly, after it was told that the girl had been cured and was not to be found anywhere. Although, a short while later, tales of a girl who could see odd, phantom-like creatures and help those who had strange ailments no doctor could cure arose.