Work Text:
Chihiro has often wondered at the world of the bathhouse. The world of the spirits, Sen whispers. Does it overlay her world, like the old legends, like Neverwhere? Will she meet a ghost on a lonely road or turn sideways in a mundane instant and fall into that world of terror, mystery, adventure (love)? Or is it like the tales in the Langs’ Fairy Books, another world entirely, with limited doors and different kingdoms and geography, a parallel but separate space?
Sen knows the answer. She also knows it doesn’t matter.
It begins as it will end: Chihiro stands at the edge of the ocean, clad in a dress made of starlight, and says goodbye to the man she loves. He can’t hear her, but she says it all the same.
Teeth flash in the water spirit’s mouth as he grins at her, and she feels the hairs on the back of her neck prickle.
“Little girl,” he says, “You have nothing I want.”
Her voice in response is true, clear and cold.
“Little?” she asks.
Sen wakes.
“I don’t know, I just wish I had an internship like yours, you know? You get to go to Japan.”
Chihiro blinked slowly. “Brianna. I’m Japanese?” she reminded her friend. “It’s not that exciting. I’ll be staying at my parents’ house in the suburbs and working on river purification two towns away from where I grew up. Nothing new, nothing exciting, no adventure.”
Brianna shrugged, cracked a grin, and stole a cookie from Chihiro’s plate. “Whatever, you know what I mean. I’m going to be in Scranton. You will have frequent access to sushi, and I will have frequent access to an admittedly famous Chili’s. You definitely win.”
“Sure, you get to spend the summer on your own, and I get to spend the summer with my parents while they give me unsubtle guilt for going to America for college. Can we trade?”
The dining hall simmered with an anticipatory buzz: One final left, one final left. Chihiro could almost hear the mantra percolating in the coffee pot, swirl in the whir of the ceiling fan. Almost, almost, she could hear tiny voices, busying and hurrying and stoking the fire of the oven…
She shook herself, slapped Brianna’s wrist. “And stop stealing my food!”
Bri shoved the cookie in her mouth and grinned messily at her. “Too late, sucka!” she mumbled through the crumbs, “But as always, you are welcome to my bacon if you ever decide you want it.”
Chihiro shuddered. “No, thanks.”
Sen stares at a row of pigs. She squints.
“These two,” she decides finally, pointing.
“Nice try, little girl, but not even close!” Yubaba cries, and begins to whoop and shriek with laughter. The sky turns dark, the wind whips. The bathhouse begins to shake and crumble. As if unleashed, No-Face splits open his gullet and begins to swallow each pig in turn. Rin screams. Haku turns to Sen, his face a mask of stone: he does not know her.
“Does it bother you, that you can’t eat bacon?”
Chihiro’s therapist’s office was a cozy mix of muted blues and oranges, soft blankets and upcycled furniture. She wouldn’t think to decorate like that herself, but she liked it. It reminded her of another place, somewhere just on the outside of her memory.
“Chihiro?”
She turned herself to the question at hand.
“No, not really. There are other things to eat. But I guess it bothers me that I feel so compelled by these dreams? I’ve been having them for so many years, and I don’t like that they seem to control my life when I’m awake.”
Her therapist nodded. “You don’t like that Sen controls your life when you’re awake.”
Chihiro’s shoulders sagged. “Yeah.”
Since her parents had moved, the first time, she’d been dreaming that she was Sen. Wonderful dreams, scary dreams - dreams where she lived in color and the rest of her life faded into a deadened grayscale. Dreams of a bathhouse, friends, spirits, a dragon --
Those dreams had kept her company in her new school and given her the bravery and the confidence to apply to college in New York, but she would be graduating in a year, going back to Japan. She wanted them gone. She wanted her waking life to feel as if it were in color.
Her therapist leaned forward. “I thought we might try gestalt therapy again today. If you were to talk to Sen - if she were sitting in that chair - what would she say to you? Right now?”
Chihiro closed her eyes. “She would tell me to be brave and true and good. To listen to every voice I hear. To go home.”
“And what would you tell her?”
She flinched.
“There is no more home.”
Sen remembers Chihiro falling in the river, even though Chihiro doesn’t. Sen remembers a lot of things that Chihiro doesn’t.
In truth, Chihiro knew she was lucky to have landed this internship. It was in the field in which she was most interested - river and lake purification - and close enough to her parents’ house that not only could she live at home, her commute was not terrible. It had been a wrench when her parents had returned to this suburb seven years ago, but it wasn’t as if Chihiro had never moved before, and now she sent up a silent prayer of thanks for the convenience.
And now - after her return from work - she could lie on the bank of the stream at the end of her parents’ back yard and gaze sleepily at the copse beyond. Her favorite river in childhood - the Kohaku - had been filled in with concrete years ago, but there were still, improbably, little creeks all over this neighborhood, criss-crossing with each other and winding through the back yards until they met up with the big river in the next town over.
The air was almost preternaturally still, heavy with the weight of summer. Green, lush vegetation crawled over the banks of the creek - velvety moss, bright green lilypads, wide, flat leaves. A tabby cat switched its tail and disappeared into the undergrowth.
Chihiro’s vision blurred. Her eyelids slowly, surely, blinked shut. The world was silent, holding its breath.
The world lurched.
Chihiro’s eyes snapped open.
It was dark. Her parents’ house was gone. The creek was a raging river. It happened fast: the earth seemed to shrug beneath her, rolling her towards the river; instinctively, she grabbed onto the grass, dug her fingers into the earth, trying to halt her progress over the edge, but with one final stagger, she was over and in the water.
Earthquake? She thought desperately as she tumbled through the water, And how did I sleep so late? Gamely, she struck out for the other shore, swimming across the current, feeling the water carry her further and further downstream. She was so close to the other shore -- so close, almost close enough to grab out --
Just as the current nearly swirled her away from safety once again, she felt fingers close around her ankle and yank her backwards onto the river’s bank.
She lay there, heaving, an undignified pile of limbs. This feels familiar somehow, she thought.
“Take deep steady breaths, in and out. You’re lucky; you didn’t swallow much water.”
The voice was calm, measured, male, and she recognized it, somehow; her body obeyed it before her mind even thought to comment. Gradually, her breathing evened out. She flopped over onto her back, pushing herself up so that she could see her rescuer’s face.
And clapped her hands over her mouth before she could scream.
In the space where they dream, Haku’s eyes, as always, are old and young at the same time: an ancient river spirit, a teenage boy.
He’s growing at the same rate as me, Sen thinks with amusement, I wonder why.
“You know why,” Haku tells her. "It’s the same reason she’s forgotten me.”
“I haven’t forgotten you.”
“You might.”
“I won’t.”
He smiles, but it’s an exhausted smile. She remembers, suddenly, that he is cut off from Kohaku as much as Chihiro is cut off from her. She wants to reach out and smooth his brow, fold him into a hug like she did when she was younger. She doesn’t know if he wants that, though; Haku was never one for admitting when he needed comfort.
She settles for reaching out and catching his hand in hers.
“I won’t ,” she tells him.
He sighs, yet seems to lighten. “Maybe you won’t,” he acknowledges.
He watched her steadily, pale face shining in the moonlight. This time, he didn’t reach out to comfort or admonish her; this time, he waited to see what she would do. This time. Because they’d met before.
She gulped in a mouthful of air. Another, slower this time. Blinked hard, as her eyes unaccountably welled with tears.
“Haku,” she breathed, “It’s you.” She felt her chin and forehead crumple and brought her hand to her mouth again. She would not cry. He’s real. It was all real. She would not cry, dammit. She was a grown-ass woman.
At the sight of her tears, his composure vanished; a slightly panicked look appeared on his face and he hovered near her, clearly unsure of whether or not it would be okay to hug her. “Chihiro? Are you -- what’s wrong?”
Without warning, her incipient sobs transformed into giggles. “What’s wrong?” she asked wildly, “what’s wrong ? Oh, nothing - only that there was an earthquake and I fell into a river that shouldn’t be there and nearly drowned , and now I’m looking at someone I thought only existed in the best kind of dream, and that it never even crossed my mind that I might be dreaming now, because it’s real, it’s real, I knew it was real, and why did you let me think it was a dream ?” This last erupted in an anguished semi-howl, almost unhinged.
“Chihiro, I’m sorry,” Haku said. “I’m so sorry. I thought it would be easier for you.”
He reached out, slowly, carefully. She watched him through narrow eyes, distrusting, like a cat. He took her hand. Unwillingly but inexorably, she curled her fingers around his palm.
“And I’m sorry now, too,” he said, “For bringing you back in. For not being able to spend more time talking about this. But there’s danger, and we have to go.”
This was the Haku she remembered. Arrogant, commanding, always sure he knew what was best. He was usually right, she thought ruefully.
“Where?” she asked.
“To the train. I’ll explain once we’re there.”
“Fine,” she told him, and he turned and began to lead her through the trees.
They crunched through the leaves in silence, and then he tilted his head sideways in front of her. Though he didn’t turn back to face her, she could hear the quirked smile on his face as he asked, “The best kind of dream, huh?”
“Shut up,” she muttered. Okay, so maybe she wasn’t that grown up.
Sen is floating in a world of light and silence. Or not silence, exactly - maybe it’s just so loud that it feels like silence. She feels an arm made of water wrapped around her middle, holding her up. She looks into the stink spirit’s -- the river spirit’s -- eyes.
His jaw unhinges from his skull. She knows what will happen -- this is the part where he thanks her, gives her the medicine that will cure No-Face and Haku.
“Beware,” his voice booms out, his voice unhinges even further, and before she knows it she is falling deep inside him and everywhere is water and she will never save her parents and she will never meet Granny and she will never save Haku and she will never, never, never get out.
“The problem is that the water spirits are growing more powerful, and as they grow in power, they grow in corruption.” Haku twisted around to stare out of the train window. She could see his point - there was definitely more water around the tracks, even lapping at the bottom of the train window at some points in the journey.
She was distracted for a moment, her eyes following the line of his throat, the curve of his jaw. He’d aged along with her, she noticed. His voice was deeper, his legs longer - but the steadiness of his gaze and the set of his face were the same as they’d ever been. Just, more defined somehow. More mature.
She shook herself.
“Do the tracks ever get washed out?” she asked.
He turned to look at her, confused at first, and then he understood. “No, Chihiro. We’re in the spirit world; this train is built to run on water. It’ll be fine.”
She shrugged. “Okay. Then how are the water spirits growing more powerful? And corrupted in what way?”
Now he smirked at her. “Haven’t you been working on your environmental engineering degree for the past three years? You should be able to tell me that.”
She thought. “Well, there’s obviously more water and less ice in my world as the climate changes, but I don’t know why that would change anything here… unless. The stink spirit?”
He smiled again, in approval this time, and her stomach gave a happy little lurch. She wished it hadn’t.
“Exactly. Our worlds are linked - pollution in a river on earth means that the spirit is corrupted. More water on earth means more power to the water spirits in the spirit world. Combine both, and we’re all in trouble. As they grow, they'll corrupt the rest of the spirits - the tree spirits and radish spirits and mountain spirits and everything you can think of - and then that corruption will transfer back over to your world."
"Because of the link?" Chihiro asked.
"Because of the link."
She thought for a moment. “You're a water spirit. Why aren’t you corrupted?”
His eyes shaded over. “My link to your world was broken when my river was filled in. I’ll be here, forever.”
She reached out impulsively, put her hand on his knee. “I’m sorry, Haku.”
He did not look at her, did not speak, and another thought caught her. "Wait. Then how are you here? Shouldn't you just disappear? And," she couldn't stop herself, it just tumbled out, "how have you aged? Aren't you a timeless, ancient river spirit, not just a mortal guy?"
He barked a laugh, but kept his eyes trained on the window.
"It's the same reason for both, actually. We were linked from the moment I saved you in the river. I don't know why, but my human form started to mirror your age then, and it never stopped. And even though I don't exist in the human world, you're enough of a link that I don't disappear here."
"A link..." she said softly. "You're right. I feel it." He glanced swiftly at her, and she was shocked by a flash of unexpected heat in his eyes, by the corresponding flip deep in her gut.
She withdrew her hand. “Right,” she said, attempting briskness. “So what do we do about it? And why am I here?”
“I told you. You and I, we’re linked, Chihiro,” Haku told her, “A human and a spirit. Zeniba told me that the two of us, together, were the key to bringing balance back to the world. And she told us to go to the ocean, where the Heike warriors are.”
“The ocean… “ Chihiro mused, turning to look through the window of the train at the vast expanse of water beyond. “How can the ocean be greater than this sea?”
Haku turned to look with her. “You’ll see.”
She meant to ask him about the Heike warriors, but she felt a great drowsiness come over her and she rested her cheek on the back of her bench. The wood slat dug into her skin, and almost without thinking, Haku snaked out an arm and pulled her into his side. Her head shifted onto his shoulder.
“Sleep, Chihiro,” he told her. “We’ll have a hard journey ahead of us soon.”
Chihiro is in her therapist’s office. It is full of muted oranges and blues, white upcycled furniture.
“I want to try gestalt therapy,” her therapist tells her.
“Okay,” Chihiro says.
Her therapist goes on. “Close your eyes. Picture Sen. What is she wearing? How old is she?”
Chihiro thinks. “She’s my age. She’s wearing red. A smock, for cleaning the floors. Her hair is in a ponytail. It’s supposed to be in a purple sparkly hair tie, but she can’t find it.”
“Good. Now, imagine that Sen is sitting in the chair across from you. When she looks at you, what does she see?”
Without intending to, Chihiro lets her eyes fly open, and there she is - Sen, sitting in the chair, knees drawn up under her chin as she regards Chihiro with a steady, amused, air.
“I see someone who needs me,” Sen tells her. “I see someone who forgot.”
The train jolted, jumped to the side, and Chihiro woke abruptly, cracking her head on the window.
“Owww!” she exclaimed, wincing. “What the hell?”
“Shh!” Haku snapped. “Look.”
Chihiro was about to snap back, but the rocking of the train distracted her. She turned and looked, and in fact - the water level was halfway up the windows, and the poor train was struggling, straining to guide them through the water.
“I thought you said that trains didn’t derail in the spirit world!” she hissed.
“They don’t!” Haku said, “This has to be something else. We have to get off this train!”
“Can’t you turn into a dragon? Why were we taking the train anyway?”
“No, or they’ll know we’re coming! C’mon Chihiro - just chew on this, keep your mouth closed, don’t breathe through your nose, and follow me.” He thrust a handful of greens at her and, without waiting to see if she’d put them in the mouth, stretched his hand out towards the window and muttered a word.
Crash. The window cracked, at first outwards with the force of Haku’s blow, but then crushing inwards with the weight of the water trying to pour in. Haku looped his hand around Chihiro’s wrist and dove forward into the deeps, cutting into the water like a dolphin - well, she thought dizzily, munching away on the greens, maybe a dolphin is like a dragon but in the water? Or a dragon is like a dolphin but in the air?
As long as she chewed the greens, she felt oxygen fill her lungs, and it was an amazing thing, but she was not afraid. She knew that she probably should be afraid, but instead she felt caught in the moment: whizzing through the inky-black waters, turning lighter and greener with the approach of the dawn, passing drowned bushes and trees and houses, branches waving with the current, the noiselessness of the world underwater, the thunder of her heartbeat...
Soon enough, they came to a raised piece of land - a tall hill, it would have been a few hours ago, but it was an island now, and they crawled out onto the ground, into the air, bedraggled and pathetic now that they were no longer weightless and one with the water. Chihiro spat the greens, soggy now, onto the ground.
“What now?” she asked.
“Now,” said Haku, “We build a fire. I’m freezing. Except I can’t use magic; it’s too noisy.”
Against all odds, Chihiro felt a smile stretch over her face. “I can build a fire,” she said.
“Today, you’re going to learn to build a fire. We want you to be able to survive if you get stranded out here.”
Somewhere in upstate New York, in a shaded clearing, dappled with dancing light, next to Chihiro, Brianna rolls her eyes. “Like I’m not coming out here with a lighter.”
“Bri, come on,” Chihiro says, “I really want to learn this stuff. What if I need it?”
“Just make sure you always have a lighter,” Bri says, “I’d be more worried about ticks if I were you.”
The fire crackled and glowed in the thin early morning light, and it might have been started by a lighter, but Chihiro was pretty sure that her wilderness instructor would be proud of her anyway.
“Thanks, Chihiro,” Haku said quietly. He was sitting next to her, close enough to reach out and touch, too far to lean against. She noticed with a start that he was mirroring her posture: knees pulled up to his chin, shoulders hunched forward, eyes fixed on the dancing flames.
Self-consciously, Chihiro relaxed into a cross-legged position.
“Think about the number of times you’ve saved me, Haku. Building a fire with a bic lighter is a drop in the bucket. And it’s kind of nice to be able to take care of you, for once.”
His eyes cut over to her from the flames abruptly, an agonized look on his face. “Chihiro . You saved me when you named me. You shouldn’t have to take care of me anymore. That’s the point.”
Chihiro inched a little closer. “The point of what, exactly?”
Haku relaxed a little from his coil, turning towards her. “You said it earlier Chihiro - I’m an ancient river spirit, not a stupid mortal guy! I should be able to take care of you, always, and I was wrong about the train - it wasn’t safe!”
And Chihiro had to keep herself from laughing, because never has he more seemed like a stupid mortal guy than in that moment. But she didn’t laugh, because she could see that he was serious, and he was hurting, and she wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around him, so she did.
“Haku,” she murmured, “I’m not a child. I didn’t choose this, but I want to be here, to help, with you. What happens, happens.”
Slowly, his arms crept around her, and he buried his face in the hollow between her neck and shoulder. "I should have protected you."
"You did," she said fiercely, "you did. You always have." And all of a sudden, she felt his lips on her neck, almost scalding in their heat, and she felt as if every nerve ending in her body was alight and yearning for him.
He pulled his head up and grabbed her chin, looked down at her, and she was shocked to see anguish in his eyes. “Sen,” he said thickly, “If you’re not safe -- “ and she broke, and she had his face in her hands and she was kissing him rather desperately, and he was kissing her back, and she felt his fingers in her hair, on her scalp, and her skin was alight as if the whole starry universe was swirling underneath, and --
He drew back, panting slightly. “Sen, we can’t.”
Sen felt dizzy, off-kilter. “Why not?”
“Because I,” he pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, “am an ancient river spirit, and not a stupid mortal guy. Though I really, really wish that it were the other way around right now.”
The sun was fully risen now, the light robust and strong. Their clothes were drying. It was impossible to argue with him.
“We should sleep,” Sen said dully.
Haku sighed. “Sen --”
"No. I'm tired." Sen scootched backward, curling onto the ground on her side, propping one arm up to be a pillow and hugging herself with the other.
“Sleep well, Haku.”
“Sleep well, Sen.”
They woke in the dark, when the ship came for Haku.
“I can’t believe we’re moving again!” Chihiro knows that she’s being unreasonable, but she can’t seem to stop herself.
Her mother is obviously taken aback.
“But honey, we thought you’d be glad - you were so sad to leave! And there will be a bigger school, and more kids your age, and honestly, it’s not like you have many friends here, you just hang out in that forest -- “
“I like the forest! It’s quiet and I can think, and I don’t want to go back to the suburbs where there’s not enough green and everything is concrete -- “
“Chihiro, enough !” Her father’s bellow surprises them, and both she and her mother fall silent. “You’re being a brat, and you’re too old for it. We’re going back. That’s it.”
Chihiro squeezes her eyes shut before a tear can escape. “Yes, Dad.”
The ship moved silently through the water, the snapping of its rigging in the wind the only thing that woke Haku and Sen. They came awake all at once, alert and aware as the ship approached.
No one walked its deck. No one climbed its mast, or stood at its wheel. And yet, the ship steered, the rigging was set, and it curved with purpose, its bow cutting through the silver path of the moon’s reflection. As it reached the island, a plank slid out from its side, bridging the ship and the island.
A high, thin voice called: “The hour is come, but not the man.”
Sen stared in wonder as Haku’s face took on a strange tension. “No,” he said.
The voice called again: “The hour is come, but not the man.”
Haku's face twisted further. “No,” he said, “Sen, you have to get back to your world, you have to get to safety, there’s nothing more that can be done, they’ve found --"
“Haku, no,” Sen gasped, “I’m not leaving --"
A third time, the voice called: “The hour is come, but not the man.”
And Haku’s face relaxed strangely, slackened.
“Haku,” Sen said urgently, “What’s wrong?”
Haku glided forward onto the plank.
“Haku! Kohaku!” she pled, “Come back!”
The plank withdrew from the island, carrying Haku with it. Sen ran, leapt, tried to land on the end of it, but it all happened so fast - the plank was retracted onto the ship before she could blink, and she tumbled forward, catching her palms in the mud of the hillside.
The hillside?
Gritting her teeth, she looked up at the ship as it sailed away. The water ebbed along with it, a curious wall of water, leaving a muddy, ruined, earthy landscape behind.
Sen gritted her teeth, pushed herself into a standing position, and began to follow the wall of water.
It took her three days to reach the ocean.
In the future, Chihiro would remember those three days as a miserable muddle of a time: hungry and exhausted and never quite dry, Sen walked as steadily as she could, always following the water as it receded across the land. The only spirits she saw were pale shadows, skittering away from her as soon as she looked close. At night, she dreamed of Chihiro, of math class and bullies and mothers and fathers and pigtails, of her engineering degree and Brianna and her therapist. It all felt very far away.
To keep the loneliness away, and to break the silence as she walked, she began to speak to Zeniba.
“Granny,” she said, “Where are you? I miss you, Granny. You told Haku that the two of us could break the power of the water spirits, but I lost him, Granny, and I ruined everything. I let him go, and I don’t know how to get him back, I just know that I have to follow him. I lost him and I lost my hair tie, Granny, the hair tie that you gave me. I’ve never been able to find it. I’m so sorry. I’m more sorry than anything.”
And the third night, for a change, as she lay curled inside a muddy hollow tree, she dreamed of Granny.
They’re in her cabin. The fire in the fireplace is crackling, and the kettle is on for tea.
“Chihiro,” Granny smiles, “It’s good to see you. We’ve missed you.”
“Granny!” Chihiro cries, and runs into Granny’s arms, folds herself into Granny’s blue dress. “Oh Granny, I’ve ruined everything.”
“Nonsense,” Granny beams, “You’re right where you’re supposed to be. And since you’ve called out to me, I can help you.”
“What do I need to do, Granny?”
“You just need to be yourself, Chihiro,” Granny tells her. “You need to be good and brave and true, and to listen to everyone you meet. Search out the palace of the Heike warriors. Tell your story to those who need to hear. Feed those who need it. And I’ll give you a few tools, just in case.”
This time, Chihiro doesn’t resist it - she bursts into tears of relief. “Thank you, Granny - I’m so scared. I just want to help. And I don’t want to lose him.”
“I know,” Granny says, “But it’s time for you to wake up, Chihiro. It’s time for you to be Sen again, for now. I’ll always see you here - whenever you ask.”
And before Chihiro can protest --
Sen woke.
She was still in the tree, still curled in a ball, but no longer were her arms exposed to the night air, her skin chilled with goosebumps. Instead a heavy, soft weight blanketed her. She reached out and felt fur, thick and silky. A belt rested around her waist with a full pouch. Feeling warm for the first time in days, she drifted off again into a dreamless sleep.
When she woke next, in the thin pre-dawn light, she heard dogs. Spirit dogs? She wondered groggily, and peeked out of the tree.
A pack of white hounds surrounded her tree, baying and scratching. As her head popped up, she flinched at first, for the heads of the dogs were massive, flat on top and wedge-shaped, far larger than any canine heads had the right to be, and their eyes glowed a bright, lemony yellow.
Nonetheless, Sen liked dogs, and she’d spent enough time in the spirit world to know that politeness got you a long way, no matter the species with which you conversed. So she cleared her throat.
“Excuse me,” she said, in a thin but resolute voice, “but I need to go to the palace of the Heike warriors. Do you know where I could find it?”
Surprised, the dogs silenced themselves mid-bark, and sat back on their haunches. As one, they cocked their heads to the left, and when they opened up their mouths, it was to speak in unison:
“Treat?” they said.
“Oh,” said Sen, “Let me see what I have.” She untied the string on the pouch, and explored its contents. There were some masses of extremely thin, extremely sparkly fabric -- interesting -- and three pairs of slippers -- how on earth could this all fit in one pouch? -- and some kind of heavy oilcloth envelope. When she unfolded the oilcloth, she found a sharp silver knife, a bundle of twigs and a loaf of bread.
“Treat!” the dogs said, upon seeing the twigs.
“These?” Sen said skeptically, “Really? Not the bread?"
Fifteen wedge-shaped heads nodded vigorously in unison.
“Okay,” Sen said, and proceeded to disperse the twigs, only to watch in wonder as the dogs began to gulp them down as if they were raw, juicy steaks.
As soon as the twigs were gone, the dogs began to peel off from the tree, baying and leaping joyfully away into the undergrowth.
“Hey,” Sen yelled, “Hey, wait!” She pulled the fur blanket around her and stumbled out of the tree, running to keep up with the dogs.
The palace, as it turned out, was not far away, and as she approached it, Sen uneasily tried to remember what she already knew about the Heike warriors.
They were a people who lived by the sea, she remembered, and who had all perished in a war. Since, their spirits had lived in the ocean, drowning sailors and fishermen and whoever happened to be unlucky enough to stray into their waters. There was a story of a blind storyteller who was brought to their court and thought he was telling stories in a lavish palace, but in fact was spinning tales in a graveyard, surrounded by eerie lights. He'd barely escaped with his life.
As the palace on the beach stretched before her, with its towering columns and delicate roofs, Sen wrenched her mind from the nightmarish idea that somewhere, in the human world, Chihiro was sightlessly staring into a cemetery.
A spirit emerged from a door at the side of the palace -- wearing a smock, she must work in the kitchens, like Rin but older, more wizened, she missed Rin -- and the dogs engulfed her at once, nuzzling and licking. The spirit woman burst out laughing, and turned her face to Sen.
“The dogs say you’re looking for work, bear spirit. Well, we’ve plenty of that in the kitchen, if you can handle it.”
Sen gave a sudden start, and then realized that she was still cloaked in the fur coat. Did it disguise her humanity?
“Y-yes,” she told the woman, “I’m in need of work. My family in the forest is very hungry.”
“My name’s Mio” the spirit woman told her, “And you’d best come in. There’s much to do before the ball tonight.”
Sen followed her.
The kitchen work was hard, and Sen’s muscles had atrophied since her time in the bathhouse, but she soon found the rhythm of it. She wasn’t trusted with cooking -- of course not, she was just a bear spirit -- but she did dishes and mopped the floor and, a little bit, was able to have conversations with Mio and the tiny, nameless house spirit that kept the fire going.
“What is the ball for?” she asked, “Anything special?”
“Special!” Mio scoffed, “Only if you think humans are special. The warriors have a stunted river spirit captive, and they’re using him to trap a stupid human girl. A waste of time, if you ask me - as if anyone could stop our rising now.”
“That’s right,” quacked the tiny house spirit, “We’re unstoppable!”
“Quiet, duck,” Mio snapped, kicking the house spirit down. “You’re barely one of us. Now stoke the fire!”
Sen, who had been frozen in terror as Mio had related the reason for the ball, thawed a little bit to wince on the house spirit’s behalf. As far as she could tell, the house spirit lived a dreary life: little food, less love.
She glanced at the bread in her pouch. She was starving, but maybe she’d be able to sneak more food for herself later; Mio didn’t focus on her much. She ripped off a corner of the bread and snuck it to the house spirit when Mio wasn’t looking.
The spirit’s eyes lit up. “Thank you!” she whispered, too loudly.
Sen’s eyes widened. “Shhh!” she chastised.
The house spirit nodded solemnly.
Sen went back to washing the dishes, and thought. Somehow, she had to get into that ball.
Four hours later, she’d begged out of the kitchen and darted back beyond the forest’s edge, saying she needed to get home to her family, and pulled the wads of fabric out of the pouch. They coalesced into three dresses: one as bright as sunlight, one as silver as moonlight, and one that glittered like the stars.
If only I could take a bath, Sen thought, and felt a tug on the pouch. Reaching deeper into its depths, she found a bar of soap. Thank you, Granny.
An hour later, she was clad in a dress made of sunlight and walking into the ballroom at the palace of the Heike warriors.
Haku was there.
Sen wondered dizzily when she had wandered onto the set of Labyrinth -- or maybe , she thought, this is just rearranging itself around my mind, and because I expect to see gilt and gold and mirrors and masks, that is what I see? Is that how the spirit world works?
She was a little worried that she would be recognized as human, since she wasn’t wearing her fur coat, but fortunately, Zeniba’s magic held strong. Thank you, Granny , she thought again.
She also wasn’t sure what to do now that she was here. Haku was here, but his face held the same blank, dull expression he’d worn as he’d walked onto the ship; she had a feeling he wouldn’t recognize her, and if calling him by his true name then hadn’t woken him, what would?
Nonetheless, she had to try.
She wove her way through the dancing couples to Haku, her dress glimmering in the candlelight. Something in the fabric seemed to shine from within.
“Sir,” she said to him, not wanting to draw attention to herself, “I hear that the water spirits are the most graceful in the kingdom. Would you care to dance?”
He looked at her, aloof, unrecognizing. “Of course, my lady.” Taking her hand, he drew her into the dance.
He was graceful, it was true. But -- “ Haku ,” she hissed at him, “Kohaku” -- and it was if she’d said nothing at all. Otherwise, he spoke freely enough, but it was a charming, icy chatter: nothing like Haku at all, really. None of his firmness, his passion, his pain.
Except -- in the way he gripped her arm when the dance was over, as if against his own volition. And in the way he danced each dance with her for the rest of the night.
The next morning, too early, Sen woke once more in her tree, surrounded by dogs.
“Treat?” they asked.
“Sure,” she told them exhaustedly, and reached into her pouch to find more twigs.
This time, they waited for her to accompany her to the kitchen.
“The human didn’t show up last night, and in any case, some beautiful sun spirit danced every dance with the river spirit and kept him busy,” Mio told her, “So there’ll be another ball tonight. Personally, I think it’s foolishness.”
“Foolishness…” echoed the house spirit sadly, and Sen stroked her feathers and fed her another piece of bread.
That night at the ball, Sen wore moonlight.
The second night was much the same as the first. Sen pulled Haku into the dance. Her dress glowed, a quiet, steady glow of the moon that had shone over the bathhouse that first night they’d met, when he’d fed her food from the spirit world and hugged her while she cried, and oh no, she would not cry right now .
“What river is your home, river spirit?” she asked him, wanting to see what he would say.
“A dead river, my lady,” Haku replied, “so I may never again return to the human world.”
“That sounds difficult,” she said softly, painfully, as her breath caught in her throat.
“No, my lady,” he said smoothly, “What could I possibly want there?”
Again, his arms clung to her throughout the night. Again, he seemed confused, almost angry, as if he’d prefer not to dance with her, but could not stop himself.
Near dawn, Sen retreated to her tree and wept.
The next morning, Sen had the treats for the dogs before they even asked. They rubbed their heads against her, lolling their tongues out in wide, monstrously goofy smiles. She scratched their ears.
“One more ball,” Mio said, “And then the river spirit will be ours forever. It won’t matter if the human finds him then; their link will be broken, and our rule will be complete.”
Sen gasped a little too loudly. The house spirit looked at her quickly, knowingly.
Mio hadn’t noticed, thank goodness, and once she bustled away, the house spirit waddled quickly towards Sen. Sen crouched to see the spirit more closely, and gave her another chunk of bread.
“You know,” said Sen.
“You’re human,” said the spirit. “But I won’t tell. You’re nice to me.”
“Thank you,” Sen said, feeling relief trickle through her body. “I wish I could do something for you in return.”
“You feed me,” said the spirit. “I don’t need it, not really, but I like it. It makes me feel real. That’s something.”
“Well, at least I can give you a name,” Sen said. “What about Aki?”
The spirit looked so stricken that Sen was afraid she’d said something wrong.
“I’m sorry!” she said, “I didn’t mean to offend you! You don’t need a name if you don’t want one!”
“No,” the house spirit -- Aki -- said, with feeling, “I want it. I never thought I’d have a name. And I have nothing to give you in return.”
Sen shrugged. “That’s okay, Aki. Unless you know a way to free Haku and break the water spirits’ power, there’s nothing that I need”
Aki shook her head. “No, I don’t know that. But I do have this -- it’s not much, but you never know.”
And from somewhere in her feathers, she produced a sparkly purple hair band.
“What the crap?” Sen blurted, “That’s my hair band! From Granny!”
Aki looked delighted. “Is it really? I just found it in the forest, years ago! I thought it was pretty, and I’d never had anything of my own, so I kept it. But now I have a name, so I can give this to you.”
Sen took the hair band from Aki's wing, felt its familiar weight snap around her wrist like a jigsaw piece clicking into place.
“Thanks, Aki,” she said, meaning it. “I don’t know if it’ll help, but I’m glad to have it back. And as you said, you never know.”
And that night, Sen wore starlight.
The night started out the same as the previous two. Sen pulled Haku into a dance. Her dress blazed like a beacon, and this time, the other dancers could not help but stare. It was as if the stars themselves were shining under her skin. Haku found that he could not keep his eyes off of her, but he could not think why.
“It must be the dress,” he told her cruelly, “Because there’s nothing special about you.”
But his arms kept holding her tight.
What do I do, Sen thought wildly, What can I do that’s different?
Suddenly, she knew.
She curled her fingers around Haku’s hand.
She looked him in the eye.
Slowly, deliberately, she slipped the hair band around his wrist as well as hers, binding their wrists together.
An angry scream rent the air, and the world came crashing down.
Chihiro sits in a forest, next to a stream and a village of little stone houses. Her mother said they were for the spirits, and Chihiro thinks that she would like to meet these spirits. They’re not Haku or Rin or No-Face or Granny, but they’re spirits all the same and she’s pretty sure that they would get along. She misses them.
Unfortunately, no spirits have decided to come out and play today and Chihiro is by herself.
Stretching out on the grass, she rolls over onto her belly to stare into the stream and rolls Granny’s hair band from one wrist to the other. She wonders what it does. Why does it have her hair in it? What would even make her hair important? It’s just hair. Except that nothing is just anything in the spirit world.
Absentmindedly, she twists the hair band around her finger and reaches into the stream to poke her reflection. Watches the ripples.
Watches as the ripples coalesce into a face that is not hers.
“Haku!” she exclaims joyfully, sitting up, “It’s you!”
Haku smiles at her. “Hello, Chihiro, it’s good to see you.”
“I miss you,” she says wistfully, “And I want you to come visit.”
Haku’s face closes off. She recognizes that face from when he was pretending to be Yubaba’s henchman at the bathhouse.
"I know,” he tells her, “And I miss you too. But I don’t think we’re ever going to be in the same world again. I can’t go there, and it’s too dangerous for you here.”
"I don’t care about danger,” she cries, “I miss you! And Rin, and No-Face, and all my friends! Don’t you care about me?”
“I care about you very much, Chihiro,” he says, “Which is why you need to forget.”
“Haku,” she pleads.
"Forget, Chihiro,” his voice turns soothing, and she feels her eyelids drooping. “Forget.”
The last thing she remembers before she falls asleep is the hair band dropping off of her fingers and into the grass.
It ended as it will begin: Sen stood at the edge of the ocean, clad in a dress made of starlight, and said goodbye to the man she loved. He couldn’t hear her, but she said it all the same.
The palace was gone.
The dancers were here, but they didn’t look like dancers. Instead they were now clearly spirits, and water-warped; tall, spindly, with needle teeth and long, knobby fingers. They surrounded and stared at her, water spirits, grown flush and twisted and out of balance.
Haku was blank-faced again, unspeaking, unmoving, his eyes vacant and his limbs limp. Sen clasped his wrist tightly, just below the hair band, keeping the bond between them.
“I speak for the humans,” she called, “And the spirits of earth, and fire, and air. Who here speaks for you?”
The crowd parted. One of the water spirits -- a particularly tall and knobby-looking one, Sen thought sourly -- stalked towards her, surrounded by lemony-eyed dogs.
“I speak for the water spirits,” he said, “And you speak for no one but yourself. What gives you the right?”
She lifted her hand, still joined with Haku’s by the band. The words flowed from her as if they came from a well deep inside. “By this band of the living and the spirit, I speak for the balance of us all, and I demand that you retreat to your ocean.”
If the spirit had eyebrows he would have raised them.
“Oh, that’s all? Nothing else but to renounce our claim on this land, the land that was stolen from us centuries ago?”
“No.” Her voice trembled, slightly, but she pushed past it. “That’s not all.”
“More? You dare much, human.” His voice darkened.
“More. I also demand that you release this spirit; that you give him freedom of will and body. If you do this, I will give you something that you want very much.”
Teeth flashed in the water spirit’s mouth as he grinned at her, and she felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle.
“Little girl,” he said, “You have nothing I want.”
Her voice in response was true, clear and cold.
“Little?” she asked.
With her left hand -- the one not bound to Haku -- she reached into the pouch and pulled out the silver knife that Granny had left her.
A hissing noise spread around her as the water spirits began to guess what she meant to do. The dogs prowled into a circle around the spirits, grumbling.
Please, Granny, she prayed, Let this be right .
“Water spirit, I give you the human blood of my spirit body. It will nourish you and keep you warm. The corruption will flow from your bodies. In exchange you will renounce all claim to human and spirit lands. You will retreat to the sea, and stay there forever, following the ebbs and flows of the sea as it naturally occurs in human lands. And you will release the Kohaku river, forever.”
The spirit narrowed his eyes. “If you do this, the humans will still need to deal with the pollution and rising sea levels they’ve caused on their own. We will merely withdraw our influence.”
“Agreed.”
“And you will not return to the spirit world, ever.”
Sen was proud that her voice didn’t dip. “I know.”
“And you have no guarantee that we will keep our promise.”
Here, she smiled. “Oh, I do. Dogs?”
And just as the water spirits realized they were surrounded, the dogs with the yellow eyes growled, menacingly, as one.
“Good dogs,” Sen grinned, then turned abruptly serious. “Do we have a deal?”
The water spirit glared. “We do. Give us the blood.”
Still holding his wrist, Sen turned to look at Haku, one more time. Folded into his body. Wrapped her left arm around his shoulder, cradled his right hand between their bodies. Pressed her forehead to the skin at his throat.
“I love you,” she mumbled into his chest. “I love you, I love you, Haku. Please remember that I love you.”
She clenched her hand on the knife, and silver flashed.
Sen died.
Chihiro woke.
Her mother was standing over her.
“Honey!” she said, “Are you planning to sleep out here all night? You’ll catch cold! Come in and eat some dinner.”
Chihiro blinked slowly. “Right,” she said. “Dinner. I’ll follow you in, mom. Just give me a minute.”
As her mother retreated to the house, clucking all the while about the unattractive tan her daughter was sure to have acquired, Chihiro looked steadily at the stream and down at her clothes.
“No raging river,” she said, “no dress made out of starlight. It was a dream.”
A sob welled up inside her. She ruthlessly squelched it, and reached up to adjust her ponytail, an automatic motion.
She froze.
Then, in one quick motion, she yanked the hair band out. Purple. Sparkly. Real.
And now that she knew it was real, and she’d lost it forever, she knew why Haku had made her forget, why he thought it was better she’d remember the spirit world only as a dream, and she sank to her knees and cried, and cried, and cried.
One year later…
“We’re so pleased to welcome you to the firm, Ms. Ogino, and we know that you’ll fit right in.”
“Thank you, sir,” Chihiro responded politely, “I’m looking forward to getting to work.”
Her new manager walked her down the corridor towards the lab. “Of course, we know that you used to live in this area when you were growing up, and we think that’s so wonderful - you must have such a personal connection to the waterways.”
Chihiro smiled. Even now, it was difficult to think of last summer without a little pain. Still, she’d chosen this; what she’d fought in the spirit world, she’d now fight in the human world. “Yes, sir. I grew up with these rivers, and I loved to play in them as a child.”
They rounded a corner into the lab, and Chihiro’s heart jumped. Surely, surely not…
“Wonderful, wonderful. Well, here is the lab, and here is the other lab tech. He’s a sharp one, too, so I’m sure you’ll both be climbing the ladder in no time!”
It couldn’t be him. It couldn’t be. The hair was too short, and he was wearing a lab coat, and goggles, and he was here . But still, that rangy frame -- the long legs, the total assurance with which he held himself --
He turned around. His jaw was set firmly, his brow smooth, his face pale. He grinned and spoke, his voice deep and rich and just as she remembered.
“Hi,” he said, “I’m Kohaku.”