Jack and Neko eye the jars of creamy liquid on the floor of his apartment with suspicion. Neko is the stray cat Jack found near the vinegar factory. He’s experimenting with a recipe for homebrew sake Kinoko taught him. Turns out, she’s related to the town’s former master brewer.
“Sake is simple,” she’d said. “Water and koji rice with a pinch of yeast. Put it together in a jar and wait. That’s it. Just filter it and drink. The magic ingredient is koji.”
“What’s koji?” he’d asked.
“It’s an edible mold that grows on rice and turns the starch into sugar. It grows legs, called hypha, into the rice which go down and release enzymes. At the same time yeast–another type of fungus–eats the sugar and converts it into alcohol and carbon dioxide.”
“It’s super healthy because it is a raw, living food. You’re drinking a whole ecosystem,” she said.
“The amazing thing about mold is, it’s working even while you sleep. Just create the proper environment and ensure the good mold gets started first, so the bad mold can’t get established.”
“Humans and animals all evolved from fungus. Fungus was here first. We share a common ancestor.”
Jack wants to impress Kinoko, who seems suddenly distant.
“Our nervous system serves the same purpose as a mycelial network. Mycelium is like the roots. That’s why our veins and nervous systems look like branching roots. That’s why many medicines derived from fungus are highly effective. Humans are originally fungal beings. We are all descendants of early fungus.”
No reaction.
“Some researchers also hypothesize that, when hominid ancestors left the trees for hunting and gathering on plains, it was their experiences with psychedelic mushrooms that kickstarted the rapid development of early man’s brain.”
She is playing with her phone. He’d have to try harder. Maybe pose a question.
“Did you know that whales and dolphins evolved from wolves? Well, they were like wolves that hunted fish in the shallow water and eventually adapted. Why do you think a land mammal would choose to go back to the ocean?”
She smiled at him then, and he couldn’t tell if she understood or cared, but he smiled back.
Driving up to the shrine takes about ten minutes through green fields and dirt roads before disappearing into the fog-shrouded foothills. Jack’s socks are wet from the heavy air. The smell of rotting wood, black dirt and mushrooms. Air thick as damp cotton in his mouth. The sound of a nearby waterfall drowns everything with its insistent, crashing voice.
He can see the top of the waterfall where it tumbles over the cliff edge, down and out of sight below the treeline. “It disappears at the bottom,” Kinoko says, then points down. “Underground.”
The shrine sits on the edge of a pond, which is backed up against a barren stretch of sheer rock face. He was told a meteorite crashed there millions of years ago. Shrines are always linked to the natural environment, especially unique features which embody noteworthy spirits.
Near the shrine’s main building, an amphitheatre of ancient cedar is illuminated by the golden orange twilight. A performer moves onto the stage with almost imperceptible motion. Sliding with supernatural grace, like liquid or smoke. The figure gathers mass beneath its silk robes, then plunges forward, leaving an ethereal trail that points toward the inevitable destination, like a memory of the future.
You could fall asleep watching those smooth, deliberate motions. Hypnotic subtlety. Their wooden mask is carved with a smile, but with each step, the shadows contort the expression, transitioning from pleasantness to malice. Shadows slide across the false features, suggesting a sneer that is profoundly unsettling.
The musical accompaniment from stringed instruments and drums are played tunelessly offstage, as if they are being dismantled–string and skin–by a scorpion. The silence builds tension before snapping it with a shocking twang or pop.
Jack looks at the audience seated in the temple’s gloomy shadow; their heads slowly tilting in unison. He wants to leave, but feels his head slowly tilting along with them, synchronized with the performer.
Kinoko leans in close to his ear. “My uncle,” she whispered.
He raises both eyebrows, indicating he is impressed.