A Tree in its Infinite Slumber

Footsteps. Resonating through the forest, the alien sound engaged the attention of every living being in the vicinity. An uncommon presence. A silence breaker. Feet, dragging through the soil, leaving a thick trail as they advanced. An indistinct human figure trudging along towards the heart of the forest, grazing past the trees that he perceived to be obstacles. Clinging on to his own strength, the man staggered through the coarse soil, almost as if he was being followed by a vicious predator. Running from the unknown. The voices of the forest died down, accentuating the sound of the footsteps. Much to the man's oblivion, the eyes and ears of every sentient being residing in the forest were focused on his movements. He was exhausted, made clear by his heavy panting. Every breath seemed to have enough strength to blow down a tree, but his faltering vigour would soon mark the end of his mobility. The man had physically reached his limits, but his mind refused to let him stop. He had to run. Not from any man or beast, nor from any calamity. He was in a state of mind where running was the only apparent solution. Running from himself. He dragged his feet further, reeling aimlessly, deeper into the thick forest following a small path that seemed naturally made. Every time he lost his strength and lowered his head, he averted his gaze from his own feet, as if they were a despicable sight to behold. His vision was fading, and his breath had gone silent. He took a few more steps and collapsed on a bed of dried leaves, making a rustling and crackling noise. A couple of leaves hovered for a few seconds before they gently caressed the ground, contrary to the preceding ungraceful thud. He had no more strength to move, but he lifted his head, struggling to continue running from the indiscernible 'danger'. He swayed his head desperately, trying to use up the last drop of energy he had to cover a little more ground, trivial as it may be. Unwillingly, he accepted his incompetence and resigned to his fate. He had lost complete control over all his senses. His world went silent and blank. As his eyes shut, he caught a momentary glimpse of an approaching figure with white hair and a large backpack.

"Slumbering timber." came a voice.

The man had just opened his eyes. He found himself comfortably rested on what felt like a soft mattress. He hadn't recovered nearly enough strength to turn his body around to confirm what he lay on, but the softness led him to believe it was a well-cushioned futon. He noticed he was still in the forest, as his view of the sky was blocked by the dense trees. He looked to his left, where he determined the source of the voice was. The relief of regaining his senses, to be able to see, hear and smell was bliss beyond anything he had yet experienced. He saw the young man seated next to him. Rough, white hair falling on his face, covered the left eye entirely. His right eye was an unearthly shade of blue-green, presumably a birth defect. The man sat in a casual manner, with his left arm rested on his left knee. The large rectangular backpack was placed at a reachable distance from him. A calming aura shrouded this young wanderer and gave the ailing man a sense of serenity. The strange bit, however, was the tobacco he was smoking. The white smoke was a little thicker than normal and much to his surprise, it moved downwards in a faux natural way.

"An inert-type forest mushi." The white-haired man spoke. "They generally rest at the base of an oak tree and spend their life in deep, uninterrupted sleep." He gave the man a sharp, contemptuous look.

"W-who are you?" asked the man, in a hoarse voice. He let out two small coughs.

"I'm Ginko, a Mushi-shi." came the revelationary reply.

"Mushi-… shi?" The man looked more confused than he did before. These familiar terms suddenly seemed outlandish.

"Hm." said Ginko, almost inaudibly. He rubbed his head. "You see, um…"

"Kichirou."

Ginko smiled, happy that the man immediately understood the reason behind his pause. He continued,

"Mushi, Kichirou-san, are life forms that inhabit this Earth, incomprehensible to most sentient species. They exist in the purest form, commonly mistaken to be spirits or magical beings."

He points at Kichirou's legs. "And they are the reason for that."

Kichirou gave an impassive expression. Though he did not comprehend everything Ginko tried to explain, he fully understood the facts of what he was experiencing. Something he refused to accept all this time. Something he decided was best to run from. A phenomenon bound to his flesh, and his inability to escape from the same. He understood it was time he stopped living in agonizing denial. He raised his head and looked at his own legs. His mind insisted on looking away and living in ignorance, but he made up his mind to accept his condition.

Protrusions, more than half a dozen of them, each nearly a foot long. Wooden protuberances, or branches. Some with leaves on them, fully or partially developed.

Branches, growing from his legs. The ones closer to his feet were longer and thicker while the ones around his knees were gradually growing. His eyes filled up. He bit his lips to stop himself from bawling in unbridled anguish.

Ginko abruptly started off. "Slumbering Timbers are one of the most hazardous mushi to encounter. They are born in the roots of trees and spend their entire life inside, disappearing once the tree dies. Their life is limited to that of their parent, and hence..."

Ginko's eyebrows lowered, probably with displeasure.

"…they tend to instinctually choose a parent with a considerably long life span and minimal risks of being harmed."

Kichirou, still staring at his own legs, listened on attentively, although he had a faint idea of what Ginko was hinting towards.

"But if, for some reason, the parent tree is cut down" Ginko insinuated, "the Slumbering Timber moves to the closest sustainable life form. As it can only survive inside a tree, the new "parent" develops attributes pertaining to that of trees…"

Kichirou let out a gulp. Ginko inferred it to be a sign of grasping the situation.

"And eventually turns into a full blown tree."

Kichirou was dumbstruck. He turned his head towards Ginko, and Ginko noticed the terror on his face. Kichirou no longer made any efforts to conceal his agony. Tears began to roll down his cheeks and his face turned red. Ginko continued to assume a blank expression, although his concern for Kichirou was eminent.

"Trees are the purest source of natural energy, as they are extensions of the Earth itself. Most mushi tend to gather around trees. Your metamorphosis from a human to a tree is attracting a swarm of mushi. You probably can't see them, but there are hundreds around us right now."

"I can see them." interrupted Kichirou, closing his eyes. "I can see them very well." Ginko was slightly surprised by this comment.

Kichirou raised his left hand and wiped his tears. He could slowly feel his strength returning. He tilted sideways and placed his hand on the soft surface to get up, when he noticed something strange. Beneath his lain body was a layer of thick, white smoke. Kichirou looked at Ginko. Ginko pulled the peculiar cigarette out of his mouth and held it up. The smoke spewed from its end flowed downwards towards Kichirou and maintained a thick layer under his body.

"It is a tobacco-mushi. It exudes a certain vibe that repels mushi. It is acting as a safeguard to prevent mushi from gathering around you."

"C-can't you kill the mushi? Is there a way?"

Ginko lowered his eyebrow further.

"Mushi are simply trying to survive, like any other living species. Although some may have some harmful effects, there is no dire need to kill them."

"Then what do I do? How do I stop this?" asked Kichirou frantically, signalling towards the growth in his legs. Ginko observed the branches carefully.

"An oak tree." He murmured to himself.

Kichirou stared at Ginko, expecting a response. Ginko pushed the ground to get up in a lethargic manner and said, "We have to move. Is there a village East from here?"

"U-ah, yeah… My village is at a small distance from here… But you must help me! You would know how to cure this, right?"

Ginko showed some sympathy, but expressed subtle contempt for an unknown reason.

"There is a way, but I need some materials. Could you guide me to the village? Don't worry about the mushi, the smoke will keep them away." Kichirou nodded hesitantly and got up with a little struggle. They made headway for his village. The branches on his legs grew bit by bit after every small interval. Ginko remained silent the entire journey, despite Kichirou making numerous, although futile, attempts to initiate conversation. The smoke from Ginko's cigarette trailed behind them, still in effect. The sun had set by the time they reached the village. As they neared the village, Kichirou stopped. Ginko turned his head and glared at him.

"I… cannot go back there." announced Kichirou. "I'll wait here. You get the materials you need. The village may be small but we get a huge supply of materials, rare ones too. You shouldn't have a problem finding what you need."

Ginko maintained his inexpressive face and says, "You will stay by my side. The smoke is what is keeping those mushi away. Although I didn't notice any of the dangerous kind at the beginning, we may have picked some along on the way. That forest is overflowing with mushi, beyond its natural capacity, and they will pounce on you as soon as this smoke stops protecting you."

Kichirou looked down remorsefully. The fact that he attracts mushi had completely skipped his mind. He considered asking Ginko if he could borrow his cigarette, but decided he shouldn't trouble him anymore. He recalled the events of the same morning, when the 'warts' on his body began to grow exponentially. His age-long friends and co-workers chased him out of the village mercilessly, deeming him to be a "demon of the forest".

The village was said to have been hunting-grounds for demons of old that emerged from the forest. It was said that the villagers' ancestors managed to seal off the demons at the heart of the forest and put an end to the danger. This legend was passed on to every new generation and became a heroic tale that was taught in schools and temples. Children grew up with this knowledge, and a law was introduced that prohibited the villagers from cutting down trees from the forest to avoid angering the 'forest spirits' and witness an onslaught of bloodthirsty demons. The houses were all made of stones, hay and dried leaves and the villagers were accustomed to this style of living for generations. Since firewood was scarce, a group of villagers would often travel great distances to procure clothing for the entire village to survive the harsh winters. It was a reasonable lifestyle and none had any complaints.

Ginko and Kichirou walked past several villagers who made no attempts to hide their dismay. Some blatantly ran away screaming, and Ginko noticed Kichirou's grief.

"I need some candles."

"I have some at home. We could go fetch them."

Ginko squinted. "Do you live alone?"

Kichirou nodded. He made a gesture to follow him and walked to the right. They crossed a few similar-looking houses and approached a slightly larger house at the top of a small hill. Kichirou pointed at it, signalling that that was his house. Ginko followed him, lazily climbing the hill with short steps. He wondered why his house was isolated.

"My mother died giving birth to me, and I lost my father at a young age." said Kichirou, "He was a tree lover. Knew everything there was to know about trees. And trees were the death of him."

Ginko didn't react, indirectly urging him to continue.

"We were in the forest one evening. There was a thunderstorm. We were heading home, when lightning struck a gigantic tree beside us, ripping its stem apart. The tree fell and crushed my father to death."

Kichirou turned towards Ginko and said, "The next day, in a fit of rage, I ran to the forest and cut down an oak tree. I was young, and I wanted to take my revenge on the forest… That must be when th-…the mushi…"

Kichirou began to weep before finishing his sentence.

"A couple of years ago, they finally forgave me for that incident as no untoward harm had befallen the villagers since. I began to work in the fields and no longer had to survive on my own. There were warts on my body that I paid no heed to because I believed they would go away eventually." Kichirou wiped the tears on his face with his palms.

"As soon as the warts began to grow today, the villagers turned hostile without a moment's hesitation. The last few years of kindness and compassion were nothing but a façade. To think all this time, they held on to the fear that I had brought about the destruction of this village…"

Some new branches had started to grow on his thighs and had torn through his kimono. The branches closer to his feet had developed immensely. Ginko prompted him to hurry, and Kichirou turned swiftly to walk when he suddenly tripped and fell on the grass.

"I… can't feel my right leg…"

Ginko hurried and lifted him. He held Kichirou's hand across his shoulder and supported him into the house. He helped him lay down on the tatami mat. The branches on the back of his thighs cracked and broke off while the stronger ones below remained firm and disallowed him to place his feet on the floor. "Where are the candles? Quick!"

Kichirou pointed at the wooden cupboard on the other side of the room. Ginko hurried to it, pulled it open and grabbed some candles with a quick sleight of hand. He used his last match to light one up, and the subsequent ones with the candle itself, and placed them under the branches. Kichirou displayed discomfort, as the branches were extensions of his body. They burned with bright blue flames, proving that even the most undesirable existence can possess aesthetic value.

"The only way to kill the Slumbering Timber is by feeding it its own ashes." said Ginko.

Kichirou let out a smirk. "Kill, huh?" He found Ginko's hypocrisy amusing, but understood that it was the only way.

Ginko observed that Kichirou was sweating profusely. He walked over to the earthen pot at the corner of the room and filled water in a small bowl. He walked back to Kichirou and sat beside him. As soon as some ashes fell to the surface, he picked them up and mixed them in the water. 'This isn't nearly enough', he said to himself. A lot more ash was required to have an effect on the mushi inside Kichirou, and the branches burned slowly. More branches kept growing on his body, and had reached his stomach region. Ginko waited patiently for more ashes, letting out an anxious sweat drop. He looked out the window to his right, facing the forest. The base of the hill directly connects to the forest. Only then did he realise the village had been uphill from the forest this entire time. The soft grass he walked on misled him into thinking they were on the same level. Suddenly, he noticed a flash of light from behind him. He turned swiftly and saw something that made his eye widen.

"KICHIROU!"

The voice echoed throughout the house. Ginko panicked and ran towards the door. He rushed outside and witnessed a large crowd of people. An angry mob, with weapons and torches.

"You! You have brought the demon back to our village!" said the short man at the front, holding a shovel towards Ginko.

Ginko responded with his loudest voice, which was hardly audible past the first few rows of people.

"He is no demon! He's been infected by a lethal mushi. Please, I'm a Mushi-shi! I can cure him!"

"We do not want to hear your reasons! Get that monster out of our peaceful village! We drove him out just today and he promised to never return! He swore he would run to the heart of the forest before he turned into an uncontrollable demon and killed us all!"

Ginko lowered his stance. He was familiar with the legend of this village. He now understood why Kichirou was running deeper into the forest when he ran into him. Kichirou must have believed he was a turning into a demon and that he should hurry to where the demons of the legend were sealed to avoid causing harm to the villagers. It also explained the relief on Kichirou's face when he was told about the mushi in his body, what Ginko believed was an illusion.

"Move out of the way! We don't want to hurt you!" said a slightly taller villager. All weapons were pointed at Ginko, and Ginko knew how futile it was to attempt to reason with them. He knew he had to somehow escape from the village so he could cure Kichirou. He took a step back and leapt into the house.

"Kichirou-san, we have t-!" and stopped his exclamation midway. The house was empty, the bowl of water was untouched, and the window facing the forest was wide open. The front row villagers entered the house and walked past Ginko, brushing him to the corner. They noticed that Kichirou was gone and let out sighs of relief. Ginko heard an indiscreet "Good riddance". They exited the house and returned to their respective homes down the hill.

"That idiot-!" said Ginko, and picked up his backpack. He considered following Kichirou down the slope, but realised it was too steep for a safe landing. He ran outside the door and retraced his way to the forest. The sky had turned a dark shade of blue and the lavish crescent moon shone in its fullest glory. The grey clouds receded to nothingness and the forest echoed with the sound of the mushi. Ginko called out to Kichirou several times, but he was nowhere to be found. Ginko leaned on a tree and contemplated about all the events that took place in the day. He began to place everything he had gathered so far in a comprehensible order.

Kichirou's father loved trees, and a tree was what killed him. That made Kichirou despise trees and he went on a rampage where he ended up cutting a tree, when the mushi entered his body. He became estranged from the rest of the village for performing this taboo and was forced to live a life of isolation. Several years passed, when they ultimately decided to accept him. Then the branches on his legs began to grow without warning and the villagers immediately turned on him. Drove him away to the heart of the forest, where the demons of the legend were said to have been sealed. Fortunately, he encountered Ginko enroute, who said he could help him. But it all seemed too late now. To escape the villagers' wrath, Kichirou jumped down the hill that led to the forest. The chances of him surviving that steep slope itself were significantly low. Adding to that, the effect of the Slumbering Timber had begun to escalate.

But Ginko did not give up. He searched thoroughly, wearing his usual demeanour. He appeared calm and composed, with the cigarette still in his mouth. He frequently pulled the strap of his backpack back on to his shoulder whenever it felt like it was slipping off. It seemed a little strange to Ginko. The Slumbering Timber generally takes a few years to have an effect on its parent, but Kichirou managed to endure for much longer. There were limited records on this mushi, as they were one of the rarest types to encounter. They were known to have a natural instinct to inhabit a parent that had a minimal risk of danger. This was the first time Ginko had to deal with a Slumbering Timber, and he was a little disappointed that he never got to see its real appearance. As a mushi-shi, Ginko deemed knowledge to be most crucial. He continued to look for Kichirou, holding on the forlorn hope of ever finding him in this huge forest. At that exact moment, he stepped on a torn piece of fabric. He picked it up and confirmed that it was from Kichirou's kimono. He looked in all the places surrounding that area, and returned to where he picked up the cloth.

He instinctively looked up, and noticed a giant oak tree. The mushi on the tree began to float away owing to the smoke. Shreds of Kichirou's kimono hung from its branches. The tree stood tall and gracefully; leaves flourished its limbs and its elegance radiated across the forest. It stood out in every aspect, and its prominent existence brought the forest to life. Its leaves rustled in the gentle wind, and an inestimable amount of acorns bloomed on its surface.

Ginko put out his smoke and a swarm of colourful mushi coursed towards the oak tree from all sides, illuminating the night sky like variegated clouds. Tiny orbs of light fell to the ground, glowing fainter and fainter till they gently kissed the grass. Witnessing this rare spectacle imperceivable to most, Ginko disappeared as inconspicuously as he had arrived.

-END-