A boy goes out with a glass and a net as soon as the sun falls in the west. A smattering of stars falls around the boy, dancing casually. He cannot touch the stars, though, no matter how hard he tries.

Fireflies.

In a millisecond he seizes the opportunity and strikes, capturing a firefly with his net and placing it carefully into his glass bottle. He holds the bottle closer and smiles with satisfaction.

Around him, the other fireflies don't flee, though their lights are indeed not as bright as before. Maybe they just became more cautious, the boy thinks.

Fireflies come around more heavily as night falls. The boy runs, spins, seeks, waiting for any opportunity… Finally, he grows tired. He lies down on the grass looking up to the sky, his mind returning to his younger days, remembering when he saw stars projected on his bedroom wall, spinning and twinkling.

      His father was lying next to him then, keeping him company until he fell asleep.

The young boy demanded: "I want a star!"

His father answered, "They are too far away from us."

The boy asked, "Then, is there anything like stars near us? That you can get for me."

"There are fireflies living next to us, but I cannot catch them."

"Why? You said they are very near to us."

His father sighed and explained, "Yes they do live near us. We can live among them, but we can never catch them. Even if you manage to catch one, its light will black out when it is captured. The fireflies must be free to shine brightly.”

*

The thoughts stop here. Just a week before now, while he was lying on the roof looking up, this scene reappeared in his mind again. That conversation is still so clear that he could recite every single word.

On the second day, he told his father that he was going to catch the fireflies. However, incomprehensibly, his father tries to stop him, as if this act were as dangerous as fighting terrorists.

Nevertheless, the more the boy was impeded, the more he is determined to achieve his goal. He could not sneak outside to the fireflies while his father was home, but on the second evening his father goes out on a crucial business trip. So the boy ventured outside, regardless of his father's many warnings not to go before he leaves the house.

      However, his plan does not work well at first. The first three days he catches nothing, whereas on the fourth day he finally gets one—but the firefly shines no more as he takes it home. On the fifth day, he goes out as usual but this time he starts to consider his father's warning seriously. Why did he look so worried before he left? Was he afraid that I will feel very frustrated if I fail? he thought. However—— 

      His thoughts stop in a blink of an eye. He strikes so fast that the fireflies aren't able to escape. He put them into the bottle and stares at them, fascinated.

*

The boy is just returning home with his "trophies" when he is suddenly surrounded by a large group of black insects. Numerous and densely spread, they spin around him like a tornado. He freezes in fear, barely breathing so as not to inhale any of the bugs. The night is growing darker. All he can see are the two spots of light within the bottle; even the starlight and moonlight are obstructed from his sight.

He sits on the ground; he cries and buries his head into his knees. He shrieks for help, wishing someone would hear him. But no one answers. No one comes to his aid. Inside this vortex, even time becomes gloomy and blurred. He has no idea how long he has been shouting, full of desperation.

No one answers his distress call. His raw throat cannot even pronounce any words after so much screaming. The black bugs are getting closer, as if they are going to consume him in this darkness. He feels more and more desperate, more and more nervous. No longer able to think nor control himself, he rushes out of the bugs' siege, regardless of their attack on his face and body.

But the bugs are merciless. They don't stop hunting him. His mind is blank. Just run. Run. Run. Still, no matter how fast he runs, there is no way to escape from their pursuit.

      At last, he crests a little hill and sees a huge mansion. It is the first time he ever found his house so amiable. He accelerates as fast as he can, launches himself across the threshold, and successfully shuts the door before the bugs get in. He meaninglessly locks the door to comfort himself, but it doesn't bring him any relief. He feels so lucky that those bugs didn't swallow him. As he tries to adjust his breathing, he notices a flicker of movement in his peripheral vision.

He sweeps his gaze put into the dark from the window, and discovers the horrifying truth: they are still floating around this place—in the air, within his sight, but blurred under the disguise of the night.

Still fluttering with fear, he suddenly thinks of something. He raises his bottle to check the fireflies. They no longer glimmer. His head swims with confusion, his father's warning ringing in his ears: there is no way of catching fireflies. But why?

He sits by the window and thinks it over and over again but still has no idea. He gives up. Maybe there just isn't any explanation, he muses.

The moment he stands up to go back to his bedroom and rest, he freezes. With surprise and shock, he sees:

In an instant, all the black bugs turn into fluorescent lights, burn the east wind, and open the eye of the night.