Adashino had never before seen Ginko in such fervor. He watched as the other man dug hurriedly through various papers, old Mushi documents, and his own small chest of possessions. The sound of vials clinking together and little drawers sliding open drifted through the room. Occasionally Ginko would curse or think aloud over some item.
Adashino smiled.
That man was trying so hard...
It was good to know;
That Ginko thought of him as more than a means for making money.
Certainly, Adashino's collection had grown quite a bit thanks to
the Mushi-shi, but he had hoped that business wasn't the only thing
that brought Ginko to his door.
Ah, but it was the
"business" part of things, his prized collection, that had caused
this situation to arise. That particular Mushi-infested item, which
had, after time, left Adashino bedridden, all color draining slowly
away.
Yes, the collection had
brought them to this. He should have been more careful.
But through such a
situation, it was certain now that there was something valued shared
between them. There was a bond there, beyond idle banter and
sale pitches.
It was a comforting knowledge.
Across the room, Ginko kicked over the chest. The box skidded upright for a few feet, then slammed into a wall and crashed sideways. Most of the drawers fell out, sending all the oddments inside scattering across the floor. He sat, defeated, with his head in his hands. Ginko was so desperate for time, but he had already been too late days ago.
A tense silence fell over the two men.
So. This was it. There was nothing left to do.
Together, quietly, they listened to the minutes passing by.
Finally, Ginko looked up, just as Adashino's eyes were closing.