When he was twelve, Ginko found himself staring down a mushi for the first time in his life. He'd seen them up close, even mere centimeters away, but this one, thin as a blade of grass but long as a snake, was settled around his neck. And even though it lacked eyes, it was considering him.

This particular mushi was known for crawling into its host's mouth and settling itself near the heart, surviving off its host's energy until death. But Ginko stared at it steadily, without a tremble.

The mushishi traveling with Ginko hung back, sharing an uncharacteristically nervous expression, until it seemed to come to a decision, slithering down Ginko's back and into the ground.

When he told the story to Tanyuu, years later, she watched him, just as steadily. "What were you thinking at the time?" she asked, eyebrows raised.

"Well..." Ginko grinned wryly. "Probably something like, 'It would be a problem if I died, huh?'"

"A problem?" Tanyuu echoed, smiling.

He looked back at her incredulously. "Is something funny?" he sighed.

"Nothing, really." She bit her lip. "Some of the other mushishi I've met... they pretend to be fearless, but I really think they would have panicked then."

Ginko's traveling companions had said the same thing, back then. "Weren't you scared?" they'd demanded, hoping for an affirmative to assuage their embarrassment.

"Not really." Ginko had blinked up at them. "Everything is what it is, right?"

The other mushishi smiled down at him, praising him for his maturity. And Ginko tried to smile back, tried to feel proud and mature - but he couldn't stop that familiar feeling, as if something was stirring in the back of his head. Something telling him that the words he just spoke weren't his own.