Grave of the fireflies

Hattori had heard a story once, that on some nights the souls of those who had passed returned as fireflies. Never stayed for long, their lights bright and vivid in the darkness, but destined to fade. Hattori knew many of the stories and folklore from his homeland, found some more credible than others, but ultimately thought they were at best entertaining means of passing on a sentiment. In this case...he found it oddly comforting to think of his Mother, that she had found her way back to the Bamboo, even if only for this humid Auster summer night.

And they were everywhere within the bamboo, their air thick with fireflies. Their shining lights like countless pairs of eyes, dancing and bobbing, their glow rivalling even that of the many lanterns that dotted the maze's paths. Perhaps it would be worth trying to catch some, make some makeshift lanterns, enjoy the light and comfort their presence provided before they were gone.

Hattori tipped his head back and called out into the night, an invitation to those who wished to join him.