~~~

Mistaking the light emanating from the ryokan window for an especially large [and out of season] firefly, the tree frog leapt up onto the wooden balcony and stuck its tongue out.

It held it there for a few seconds, hoping a stray mosquito didn’t cruise by.

Nothing worse than one of those.

When it was younger, sure, they were fun, their little bodies vibrating even when they’d been swallowed down into the stomach, but as an adult…nope.

A cold gust of wind blew past, bringing dirt particles up from the courtyard below.

Feeling the chill, the frog reeled its tongue back in and, with a confused sense of direction, jumped forward through the gap in the door panel.

The wisteria bonsai tree on the desk only confused it further, as the rest of the space seemed to be a snugly-lit cave.

Ah, it thought, not a bad place to settle down. Assuming no one else is occupying it. Doesn’t look like they are.

Intercepting the frog’s thought, a groaning sound emanated from the nearby futon, followed by a gigantic arm swinging around and hitting the yukata-covered body it was attached to.

The frog’s human nearby alarm blared and it leapt quickly back through the gap and out into the forest beyond.

Groaning again, Akira raised his head and looked around the room. From his blurred perspective, there were twelve walls, five paintings of Mt Fuji and a beautiful collection of okiandon.

He pulled himself up higher and tried to re-focus, but when he did, his head started to ache and he was forced back down again. Groaning a third time, he looked towards the balcony, the slight gap between the wall and the panel showing something oddly green and shiny.

Pushing his head forward an inch along the pillow, he squinted and narrowed it down to two floating balls of glowing, green light.

Fireflies? he wondered, squinting so hard his eyes hurt.

On the other side of the room, the door panel slid open and, following the drawn-out shuffling sound of someone taking off their zori, Miho appeared.

‘Temporary break,’ he said, walking over to the balcony door panel and sliding it shut. ‘Five minutes then back down to the kitchen.’

‘Not like that…’ mumbled Akira, pointing at the wisteria bonsai tree on the desk, his whole arm shaking. ‘Fireflies…watching me…’

Frowning, Miho came over and bent down next to Akira’s head. Gently lowering the samurai’s arm with an accompanying ‘hush’ sound, he put his hand on Akira’s forehead and muttered, ‘wah, like a volcano.’

‘Thought there were two, sure of it, but…who would the other one be? Can’t be Kenji, not after the bridge thing, but who then?’

‘Okay, try to sleep again,’ said Miho, reaching over for the face towel on the other futon. ‘I’ll wet this a little bit, cool you down.’

‘No, you have to open…they’re out there, guarding me…greenest little fireflies…’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.’

Miho got up to wet the towel, but was pulled back down by Akira, who rose up from his pillow with a manic look in his eyes. His arm attempted to jab at the door panel, but got as far as Miho’s shoulder before dropping.

Then his eyelids fluttered, closed and he was out again.

~~~

‘What exactly did she say to you?’

‘I told you.’

‘Nothing else?’

‘No.’

Himiko looked at the chopping knife sticking out from the end of her right hand and Aya’s position backed up tight against the kitchen wall, realised the optics, and placed it gently back down on the surface.

‘Sorry, I didn’t know I was holding that.’

‘For nearly five minutes,’ replied Aya, relaxing slightly as Himiko followed up her apology by moving back to the soup station and folding her arms.

‘I just don’t understand what she’s playing at. It’s been over four hours. Did you tell her I was angry with her?’

‘Not really. I think. I don’t know, it’s all a little hazy.’

‘Did she seem scared?’

‘Err…the opposite, actually.’

‘Not scared?’

‘More like annoyed. It was a bit strange. She told us to leave in quite a sharp tone, as if we’d done something wrong and she was…’

Himiko waited for the key word to slide out, but Aya was too busy running her fingertip over her lip. ‘She was what?’

‘Well…you. As if she were in your position, the boss of the place.’

Himiko glanced at Chef, who was over on the other side of the kitchen, chopping the head off a chicken that had an unusually resigned look on its face. As if it had known all along that this is where it would end up.

‘Do you have any idea where she might be?’

‘A few. Let me finish with this chicken then I’ll go and look for her.’

‘No, no…we have to finish the whole meal first. Guests take priority above all else. Golden rule of Ryokan hospitality.’

Chef paused his chopping and looked through the hole in the wall, into the dining area. Apart from Miho walking round the side and almost knocking a painting off the wall with his shoulder, there was no one.

‘Don’t say guest, singular, I’m not in the mood.’

‘I wasn’t going to,’ replied Chef, resuming his duties.

The panel to the kitchen slid open and Miho walked in, rubbing his shoulder. He nodded at Aya then walked over to Himiko, slouching slightly so he would appear smaller than her. Then straightening up again when he saw her shaking her head.

‘I don’t suppose you have news about our runaway staff, do you?’

‘Who?’

‘The one you picked vegetables with and didn’t drag back here by the hair.’

‘Ah, Sachiko, sorry, no. Not since the stream.’

‘What’s with the action face then?’

‘I’ve just been up to see Akira…my samurai friend…or not really my friend, just the guy I helped. Though he’s probably my friend now as I did save him from that purple-…from that difficult situation.’

‘The point, Miho. Find it.’

Chef laughed in the background, almost chopping his own finger off by accident.

‘The point, right, well, I was up there and…he seems really sick,’ continued Miho, giving a confused look towards Chef. ‘His head is still hot, and he was rambling some nonsense about green fireflies protecting him. I think the drink we’re giving him might not be working.’

‘No need for alarm. The medicine takes a few days, I told you.’

‘But he’s getting worse, his head-…’

‘Perhaps even a week. Miho, calm down, deep breaths. Focus on your duties and I’ll focus on helping your samurai friend.’

‘By giving him more of that drink?’

‘Yes.’

Miho looked around the kitchen, at all the vegetables and herbs laid out for dinner. ‘Do you have any other medicine you can give him?’

‘This isn’t a clinic. I have the same stuff my parents gave me when I was a child and I’m not dead, therefore, he can take it too.’

‘Did you hallucinate after you took it?’

Himiko put her fingers on her green necklace and flipped it over onto its other side. ‘No.’

‘He is. Those green fireflies watching him. Says he can see them.’

‘Green?’ asked Aya, half turning from the bowl of mountain asparagus she was peeling.

‘That’s what he said.’

‘He’s fine, stop being so dramatic.’ Himiko left her necklace and started scratching the its twin, the green tattoo etched on the upper slope of her breast. ‘The night is always darkest just before sunset.’

‘Sunset?’

‘Which means he’s just expelling the sickness from his system and he’ll be up and swinging his katana brainlessly again in a few days.’

‘Or drunkenly falling in the river outside,’ muttered Chef, his words nowhere near quiet enough to be undetected.

Miho waved the mountain asparagus he’d just picked up vaguely in the air around him, missing Aya’s cheek by an inch. ‘Hey, he’s injured, leave him alone.’

‘Just saying facts. And don’t say hey to me in my own kitchen.’ Chef caught Himiko’s raised eyebrow and edited. ‘Her kitchen. In here, I’m your boss and you’ll show respect.’

Miho half opened his mouth to say hey again, but he could see Aya shaking her head at him out of the corner of his eye so he bit his tongue.

‘Now, stop playing the worried nurse and start boiling those fuki.’

Miho looked at Himiko for confirmation, but she was zoned out, her fingers still tracing the outline of her tattoo. Apparently, she didn’t mind if others saw the top of her chest in the kitchen. Which was quite similar to Yuki, now that he thought about it. She had often walked about the village with her yukata loosely tied, making the men drop things in front of her and hope she’d bend down to pick them up.

‘What are you waiting for boy? Dinner’s in thirty minutes.’

‘Huh?’

‘The fuki…boil them.’

Miho looked out half-dazed at the empty dining room, shrugged and moved next to Aya, who was still wrestling with the mountain asparagus. The fuki was in the basket, so he grabbed some and put them on the surface, then reached for the jar of salt.

‘What are you doing?’ whispered Aya.

‘Salting them,’ he replied.

‘That’s not the way Chef does it.’

‘How does he do it?’

‘Boils them.’

‘Without salting?’

‘Yes.’

‘But…what about the bitterness?’

‘Just do it his way, it’s safer.’

Miho looked at the fuki, looked at Chef chopping up the chicken with a substandard technique, looked at Aya pulling the jar of salt away from him, and thought, okay, whatever. Boiled fuki.

As he began chopping, Himiko came out of her trance and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. ‘A compromise. If your samurai friend is still feverish tomorrow, I’ll let you move to Room 28.’

‘The one with the weird light?’

‘Weird? It’s our premium cabin. What are you talking about?’

‘Sorry, but…there was a green glow in the windows last night. I wasn’t saying it was a bad cabin.’

Himiko looked past Miho, into the bare nothingness of the wall. ‘Ah, the green glow. Yes. That comes from the luminous rock, found in Mount Kinpu. It’s quite therapeutic…according to certain monks…in certain shrines.’

‘It is?’

‘Yes, now that I think of it, your friend should be moved there tomorrow. It will really help with his recovery, I’m certain of it.’

Himiko patted him on the shoulder, pulled her necklace straight and then strolled out into the dining area. The sole guest must’ve been out there too, as she started giving the traditional greeting spiel.

Miho listened to the faint sounds, then returned to the basket of fuki.

Luminous rock from Mount Kinpu.

He’d never heard of that, but he was a simple village boy…or simple village man now…and there were thousands of things he didn’t know. Aya on the other hand…

Turning to the side, he waited for her to finish peeling the final asparagus then asked if she knew anything about this luminous rock.

‘No,’ she replied curtly, then picked up the green asparagus layers and hurried over to the boiling station.

Miho stared at the asparagus left behind, until Aya rushed back and carried them away too, waiting a minute before returning a second time and dropping the layers in the waste bin.