[Memory] Sixth
WHO: [Ginko/Cloud], (iattractmushi)
SENSES: [Sight/Sound]
SUMMARY: [Ginko has a serious talk about what motivates him to save a certain girl with a close friend--who he still doesn't really remember.]
PERMISSIONS: [Free for use]
---
It was still dark, a few moments later, but it was the darkness of night, not the darkness of having your eyesight taken away. There was the quiet slap of water nearby, the quiet sound of murmuring voices farther away.
“Be honest.” It was a familiar voice, though Ginko couldn’t place it immediately. “Even after all this effort, you really don’t know if these nets will actually snag that girl, do you?”
“No.” His voice sounded quiet, maybe a little rough. His vision was fixed ahead, looking out at water-the sea, perhaps? Out of the corner of his eye he could see flames dancing in the breeze, the breeze that he couldn’t feel, and people sitting near them. “But it’s the only chance I think we have of saving her.”
The other man’s back was to him, and he wasn’t looking at him. He could only hear that voice, that hauntingly familiar voice, as he continued, “Tell me. Why is this so important to you? This girl. Why does she weigh so heavy on your conscience?” His vision shifted then, turning to look down at the mop of dark hair, his vision good enough that he could still pick out the place the hair stopped and the night began with ease. He could see an ear, the curve of the other’s jawbone as it dipped down to form his chin, and what looked like the side of a pair of glasses… but not the face. “I could sympathize with your concern better if the girl had said she wanted to live. But from what you told me, it sounds like her sole desire was to become part of the swamp. Perhaps this path she has chosen brings her happiness. And if that’s so, should we deny her fate, however cruel it may seem?”
His body shifted forward; even though he couldn’t feel it, he could tell by the way his line of sight shifted, and he looked away from the other man. “You know that green cup that I brought you?”
There was a murmur of inquiry from the other, and he seemed to take it as an invitation to continue.
“It’s a recreation of one that belonged to that young man’s grandmother. She brought the original to a mushi banquet that was unfortunately cut short. That left her trapped in limbo between two worlds, and in a ghostly state that was neither mushi nor human. Recreating that cup allowed her grandson to see her again, but that stole her humanity. I made her mushi because she requested it, but I… question if I did the right thing or not.
“Becoming a mushi isn’t like a traditional death. Mushi occupy a spot between the living, and the dead. That means, the person still lives in one sense, but then they’re dead in yet another. Imagine what that must be like. Wouldn’t a natural death be more tolerable than living for eons? A life where everything that made you human is whittled away, bit by bit, until absolutely none of it remains. That’s the sad fate for which the girl is headed. She even dressed up for the occasion-her kimono would suit a wedding. Or in her case, someone’s funeral.
“So, yes, this cruel fate of hers? It is one to be denied.”
----
SENSES: [Sight/Sound]
SUMMARY: [Ginko has a serious talk about what motivates him to save a certain girl with a close friend--who he still doesn't really remember.]
PERMISSIONS: [Free for use]
---
It was still dark, a few moments later, but it was the darkness of night, not the darkness of having your eyesight taken away. There was the quiet slap of water nearby, the quiet sound of murmuring voices farther away.
“Be honest.” It was a familiar voice, though Ginko couldn’t place it immediately. “Even after all this effort, you really don’t know if these nets will actually snag that girl, do you?”
“No.” His voice sounded quiet, maybe a little rough. His vision was fixed ahead, looking out at water-the sea, perhaps? Out of the corner of his eye he could see flames dancing in the breeze, the breeze that he couldn’t feel, and people sitting near them. “But it’s the only chance I think we have of saving her.”
The other man’s back was to him, and he wasn’t looking at him. He could only hear that voice, that hauntingly familiar voice, as he continued, “Tell me. Why is this so important to you? This girl. Why does she weigh so heavy on your conscience?” His vision shifted then, turning to look down at the mop of dark hair, his vision good enough that he could still pick out the place the hair stopped and the night began with ease. He could see an ear, the curve of the other’s jawbone as it dipped down to form his chin, and what looked like the side of a pair of glasses… but not the face. “I could sympathize with your concern better if the girl had said she wanted to live. But from what you told me, it sounds like her sole desire was to become part of the swamp. Perhaps this path she has chosen brings her happiness. And if that’s so, should we deny her fate, however cruel it may seem?”
His body shifted forward; even though he couldn’t feel it, he could tell by the way his line of sight shifted, and he looked away from the other man. “You know that green cup that I brought you?”
There was a murmur of inquiry from the other, and he seemed to take it as an invitation to continue.
“It’s a recreation of one that belonged to that young man’s grandmother. She brought the original to a mushi banquet that was unfortunately cut short. That left her trapped in limbo between two worlds, and in a ghostly state that was neither mushi nor human. Recreating that cup allowed her grandson to see her again, but that stole her humanity. I made her mushi because she requested it, but I… question if I did the right thing or not.
“Becoming a mushi isn’t like a traditional death. Mushi occupy a spot between the living, and the dead. That means, the person still lives in one sense, but then they’re dead in yet another. Imagine what that must be like. Wouldn’t a natural death be more tolerable than living for eons? A life where everything that made you human is whittled away, bit by bit, until absolutely none of it remains. That’s the sad fate for which the girl is headed. She even dressed up for the occasion-her kimono would suit a wedding. Or in her case, someone’s funeral.
“So, yes, this cruel fate of hers? It is one to be denied.”
----