Mushishi sat on the edge of my awareness for years. Being the best-rated show from its year more or less guaranteed I would keep seeing Ginko pop up in videos, thumbnails, and anime discussions online, yet often without much real discussion of Mushishi itself. Now that I’ve finally watched it, I both understand why that happens and think it does the series a disservice.

There is something fitting about a show with an amnesiac main character being half-remembered by people mostly through its imagery and symbolism. My mate, despite not knowing the series, recognised the white-haired man from the poster. Before watching, I was much the same.

As an anthology, Mushishi changes location and focus with almost every episode, each one built around a different mushi. Mushi are described as a third form of life, and depending on the episode they can feel closer to spirits, yokai, parasites, or natural phenomena. That flexibility is one of the show’s biggest strengths. The mushi are not just there as creatures of the week, but as a way of exploring how people live, what they fear, what they pass on, and how they understand the world around them.

What makes Mushishi work so well is that it never feels like a random grab bag of strange stories. It loops ideas back in, builds on earlier details, and lets Ginko’s own history emerge slowly through incidental reveals and flashbacks. The first episode ends up mattering more than it first seems, and the slow unfolding of Ginko’s past fits the pace of the series perfectly.

That family tension is one of the most consistent through-lines in the show. A lot of the conflict is not just about mushi, but about people trying to control each other, preserve traditions, protect family lines, or push against roles they have been forced into. The supernatural element gives the series its identity, but the human friction is what gives it weight.

Of course, close contact with mushi is always dangerous, especially for those who can see them. Very little in Mushishi is permanent, and that sense of impermanence hangs over the whole series. What makes Ginko such a strong lead is the way he responds to that. He is not dramatic, preachy, or needlessly harsh. He approaches people and mushi alike with care, patience, and empathy. Compared to the many records in the series that treat mushi as something to kill, and compared to other Mushishi who are far less gentle in how they deal with them, Ginko stands out. Even his curse, attracting mushi to himself, reinforces that closeness as both a gift and a danger.

He also helps keep the series grounded. A lot of the people Ginko meets are desperate, selfish, trapped by fear, or too deep in their own pain to think clearly. Without him, some of these episodes could easily become frustrating. Instead, his calm presence gives them shape.

And for all the quietness of the series, it never became dull for me. The variety in the mushi, locations, and situations keeps the stories engaging, and part of the fun is trying to work out what kind of mushi is behind each new problem.

Mushishi is quiet, thoughtful, and far better than its oddly half-remembered reputation suggests. Now that I’ve finally watched it, I understand why Ginko lingers in people’s minds. The real shame is that the series around him should linger just as much.