between dreams and reality is the vault of your soul.
Mushishi | 蟲師 – Chapter 18 ◎ Spring and Falsehoods
@animangacreators badge battle #1 - 20th century vs 21st century
Tue: Rain/Safe
A storm is coming.
ginko
MUSHISHI (2005)
Mushishi | 蟲師 – Volume 3
Green eyes and white hair. I’ve heard of you. “There is an unusual child who attracts mushi and causes disasters wherever he goes.”
Adashino x reader x Ginko (can be read as platonic or romantic)
Oh dear half-child, how do you feel? Does your sharp teeth scare away mortals with softer features? Is your too-human face too unlike that of your spirit friends? Oh if only you knew how loved you were.
Yokai and humans.
They were both different.
Though you spent a fair amount of time among the yokai, intrinsically familiar with the customs of a world that laid parallel to the human world, the daily company you kept cemented you deeply into the world of mortals. So long spent among them made you maintain a constant front, dulling down yourself to appear palatable. Thus, it wasn’t hard to forget that you were not fully human.
But then there’d be inevitable moments that remind you of what you were and what you weren’t. Claws not fit to be on a normal person that would leave scratches on Adashino’s precious dark wood doorways. A stamina level surpassing even that of Ginko, the ever-wandering man asking to take a break long before the effects of traveling hit you. But nothing reminded you of your otherness as much as watching Adashino and Ginko interact with others.
Adashino x reader x Ginko (can be read as platonic or romantic)
You and the boys take a dip in the river. When you're half yokai and have inhuman reflexes, a few fishes aren't a problem for you.
Summer heat was the worst heat.
Second only to the heat of drought-dried reeds going up in flames and the burning tinder of beloved houses, the summer heat pressed down upon everything, rendering the far-off mountain tops into hazy, quivering mirages. Your yukata stuck to your skin uncomfortably as you shifted from your spot on the wooden floor. The rhythmic pounding of Ginko’s mortar and pestle sounded through the air and you groaned, turning your head to look at him.