The frog never left Lumi’s side. It clung to her shoulder as she wandered through the village, croaking softly in response to her whispered musings. It nestled against her cheek when she sat by the river, staring at her reflection in the shifting waters. It even curled beside her at night, resting atop her pillow like a tiny guardian.
At first, the villagers simply shook their heads. “Just a child’s fancy,” they muttered. “She’s always been strange.” But as the days passed, their whispers grew louder.
“It’s unnatural,” old Marla, the baker, murmured to a group of women at the market.
“She speaks to it as if it understands,” another added in hushed tones.
“I’ve seen its eyes glow at dusk,” a fisherman swore. “No normal frog does that.”
Lumi ignored the rumors, but she could feel the stares, the way people glanced at her when they thought she wasn’t looking. It didn’t bother her—until it did.
One evening, as she walked home from the fields, a group of children blocked her path.
“Is it true?” a boy named Ren asked, his arms crossed.
“Is what true?” Lumi blinked.
“That you’re a witch,” another girl chimed in, her voice laced with unease.
Lumi stiffened. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Then prove it.” Ren stepped forward, pointing at the frog perched on her shoulder. “Make it leave.”
Lumi’s heart pounded. She turned to her tiny companion. It sat calmly, unbothered by the commotion.
“Go on,” Ren pressed. “If you’re normal, tell it to hop away.”
Lumi swallowed. She didn’t want to. The very thought of it made her chest ache, but she hesitated too long.
“See?” Ren scoffed. “She can’t.”
“She’s cursed,” another boy whispered.
“Her eyes glow like its eyes,” the girl added. “Maybe she’s not even human.”
Lumi clenched her fists. “That’s enough!” Her voice was sharper than she intended.
The frog suddenly croaked—a deep, resonant sound that echoed unnaturally in the air. The children gasped, stepping back as if the creature had cast some unseen spell.
Lumi didn’t wait to hear what they said next. She turned and ran.
That night, she sat by the river, hugging her knees. The frog rested beside her, its golden-speckled skin catching the moonlight.
“Why do they fear us?” she whispered, staring at her own reflection. The water shimmered, but the face looking back at her felt like a stranger’s.
Her eyes—always shifting, always glowing—seemed even more unnatural now.
She touched the water, and suddenly, it moved. Not from the wind. Not from the current. It rippled, forming shapes, images.
A woman appeared—a woman with eyes just like hers.
She stood in a field of glowing lotus flowers, wearing a robe woven from water and light. Her presence was ethereal, almost unreal. But Lumi knew, deep in her bones, that this woman was real.
“My mother?” Lumi whispered.
The frog nudged her hand, as if urging her to understand.
Lumi’s breath hitched. If the vision was true—if this woman was her mother—then who was Lumi?
And why had she been left here, in a village that feared her?
She turned to the frog, her voice barely a whisper.
“What am I?”
The frog blinked, then croaked once. And in that simple sound, Lumi felt the weight of an answer she wasn’t sure she was ready to hear.
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