The white dragon swam through a dark, narrow cave. The weight of the water and rock above him was crushing, but it was still water, and it could not hurt him. The water fought him, pulling him backwards by his tail and mane. Still, he made headway and approached a small opening in the tunnel. The current was the strongest here. The dragon waited a moment, shoring up his energy, and then shot forward through the hole into a still lake. Everything was subtly different. He tasted the faint tang of metal and smoke in the air. The water had slightly too much nitrogen and was cloudy with algae.
Chihiro watched as the dragon rose out of the water into a strangely familiar woods. There was a shadow in the trees. The dragon sensed it, too. He cast his head around, searching, and locked in on a scent. He flew, skimming the ground, through the trees past squirrel-sized houses and stone guardians, to a clearing where a girl slept next to a doorway in a wide red wall. The shadow stood over the girl’s body, emanating curiosity and malice. Chihiro saw a flash of metal in the shadowy figure’s hand before the dragon slammed into the dark cloud and knocked it away.
The shadow swirled and solidified until it looked human, and the two rolled into the undergrowth. The shadow, now a black-haired girl, jumped away. The flash had come from a foot-long knife she grasped in one hand. She stabbed at the dragon’s tail as it whipped toward her. The blade skittered off the scales with a loud screech, throwing sparks. It did no harm. The dragon was on her in a moment, picking her up easily in his mouth and throwing her with a twist of his head. Her body hit a tree and slid down to lie at the base of the tree.
“Who sent you?” the dragon snarled. There was no answer. A moment later, the familiar face, with large, dark eyes and dark lips backlit by pale skin, dispersed into smoke.
The dragon stared at where the girl had been, and then turned back toward the clearing where the other girl slept, oblivious, and turned into a young man.
---
The wind pulled through Haku’s mane as he stared at where the girl’s body at been. Kiyo, was it? The name seemed familiar now. Kiyohime. One of his. Akuma knows where she is. The thought loomed in Haku’s mind. He turned to Chihiro and let the length of his dragon’s body melt away. She had not been hurt, had not even woken. Bespelled, perhaps.
She looked so innocent, wearing simple clothing and asleep against the guardian of the Gate with her books lying open around her, in the shadow of a Gate she could not see. Her face was bare of makeup; her skin looked translucent with youth in the filtered sunlight. Her hair fluttered in the breeze. Her salty musky human scent lay delicately upon the smell of leaves breaking down on the forest floor. Haku’s worse fears had been realized, but seeing her sleep peacefully like this, it was as if the danger had been simply a bad dream, and nothing more.
“Haku,” she mumbled.
Haku started. Was she dreaming? His heart thudded painfully. He stared at her, unaware of the intensity of his gaze.
Chihiro opened her eyes and yelped; her back slipped from where it rested against the stone statue and she crashed down among her books in a flurry of papers. “H-how long have you been standing there?” she asked, looking up at him. Their eyes met and her forehead wrinkled in confusion.
Chihiro, it’s me. Do you remember me? She knows nothing of what happened? “You were talking in your sleep.” Haku fought the urge to reach out and touch her, to gather her up in his arms, to squeeze her in relief. He forced himself to pretend, pretend that he didn’t know her, pretend that he hadn’t almost been too late.
“That’s embarrassing.…What did I say?” she stammered. She seemed horrified, but unafraid.
“You called me. Haku. How did you know that my friends call me Haku?” I wouldn’t still be Haku if not for you. Do you understand? The name would've become a nightmare. He crouched until they were at the same level, willing for her to understand.
She brushed herself off and sat upright. “My apologies, Kohaku-san. I didn’t mean to be rude.” She inclined her head to indicate an apologetic bow.
Please. Calling me Kohaku erases everything that happened. He managed to keep from saying the words aloud. “You can call me Haku if you want to,” he said. Please.
“Haku…” Chihiro said slowly, tentatively, as if tasting the word on her tongue. “What are you doing out here?”
“Funny,” he said. It wasn’t funny at all. “I could ask you the same thing. I was looking for someone.”
“Really? I’ve been coming here for years, and I never see anyone out here,” Chihiro said.
“She’s not from around here, but this is near where we last parted. I thought I might find her here again,” Haku replied. He changed the topic. “You still haven’t told me why you’re out here all by yourself.”
Chihiro gestured to where the Kojiki lay open among her notebook and pens on the cracked cobblestones. “It’s quiet out here. I like it. No one bothers me here.”
Haku glanced up at the Gate before he replied. Is there something about the Gate that draws her to this place? “Sorry to disturb your peace. I can leave now, if you’d like.” He waited, watching. There was no danger in the woods now, but still he couldn’t bring himself to take even a single step away.
Chihiro followed Haku’s glance, confused, and tried to hide it by looking up at where the sun shone through the leaves. “I… should probably head home too. Are you just going back to town? Would you mind… if I walked with you?”
“I would like that,” he said quietly.
Chihiro gathered her things and fell into step beside him. They started down the track together. “May I ask you something?” she said.
“Of course,” Haku said.
“What was that song you were singing, at the library?” Chihiro blushed again when Haku looked at her.
“It’s the poem you were reciting. The Ballad of Ashitaka.” It’s his love song to the demon princess, one of the last songs in the epic.
“Written sometime in the thirteen or fourteen hundreds,” Chihiro said when Haku offered no further information. “But… how do you know the tune? I’ve looked everywhere for a recording, and there’s nothing.”
Haku searched for an answer that he could give her. Surely “Spirit World royalty are expected to know more historical literature than human teenagers” would count as bragging. And she would not believe “it was a popular song when I was growing up.” “My father taught it to me,” Haku said.
“Oh,” Chihiro said. She paused awkwardly, then changed the subject. "So, um, tell me about this friend," she said. She smiled to cover up her embarrassment.
Haku looked at her, startled, but she wasn’t even looking at him. Her gaze was directed into the trees. What could she possibly mean? he thought. He could feel her body heat radiating beside him. Her scent permeated the air. Below the human musk was something very familiar that he couldn’t place. It was distracting. “Um,” he said. “What do you want to know?”
“I dunno,” Chihiro said. “What’s her name? What’s she like? Do you like her?” She grinned.
What do I say? What is safe to say? He paused long enough that Chihiro bowed and apologized for prying.
“No, no, it’s okay,” Haku said. He couldn’t bear for her to be formal. “Her name was… Sen. It was a long time ago. I don’t know what she’s like now, but she was very kind and she helped me through a hard time.” Do you like her? the question echoed in his head. He didn’t understand it. She had been his friend; of course he liked her, at least, he liked the girl that he remembered. But that didn’t seem to be what Chihiro meant.
“When did you last see her?”
"Probably about seven years ago. Why do you ask?"
"Because this is such a small town that if I was living here at the time, I'm sure I would've seen the two of you around."
"Maybe you did. Do I look familiar?" She turned his face toward his, and the child’s face he remembered so well shone out at him. Please let me look familiar, he begged silently. Please remember me. Zeniba’s words rang out in his mind. She must not remember you.
Chihiro looked into his face, examining it more closely. She seemed to consider it. "Now that I think about it, maybe you do, a little bit,” she said. “Your name seems familiar, too."
There had been no trace of recognition in her face, and no danger. She was being polite. Haku humored her, keeping disappointment and relief out of his voice. "That makes it a little less strange that you were calling out my name in your sleep."
Chihiro made a face, embarrassed. “Oh!” Chihiro stopped suddenly. "I was dreaming about you! Sorry, that's kind of creepy. But…I think…you were in my dream…” she frowned. “I don’t remember what it was about… Sorry, I’m sorry, that sounds so weird,” she mumbled, flushing.
She remembers! Haku reveled in the thought. Then he realized that she was waiting nervously for him to respond. “That’s okay,” he said. “Stranger things happen.” Like a dragon being saved by a human girl. But she dreams! The charm worked! There’s some part of her that still remembers me, even if she's not conscious of it.
“Do I look familiar to you?” Chihiro asked.
"Definitely not when we first met,” Haku said, thinking of the mannequin in the window, “but at the moment you do." Of course you do. How could I forget you?
"It's the makeup, isn't it?" Chihiro half-grinned. "I don't actually look that different from when I was ten. Taller, maybe." She was bantering now - familiar territory for her.
She did still have a boyish body, but Haku refused to answer her attempt at self-depreciation. "It’s definitely the makeup," Haku said seriously. "Why do you wear it? You don’t need it. It just covers you up. You're much prettier without it."
Chihiro blushed furiously and looked down at her feet, suddenly shy again. "It's kind of like a shield, I guess. Protection. What people say doesn't hurt because they're not talking about the real me. It makes me feel stronger."
"I see,” Haku said. “It's not just your face, is it? It's your clothes, too. You're much nicer when no one else is around. And your hair looks different." He reached out and touched a strand of it. It was soft, just like he remembered.
Chihiro was speechless. It had been such an intimate gesture. "What about you?" she said a little defensively, when she found her voice again. "Your designer clothes, and your hair?" For like her, he was wearing worn jeans and a t-shirt, though his were tailored so well that they looked and moved like they were part of his body.
"You're not the only one who needs protection," he replied.
---
Friday, March 7th
Dear Diary,
New kids are just flooding into our town. (For the size of the town, two is a flood.) Risuni doesn’t like Kiyo, and it seems to go beyond her usual cynicism toward the popular kids. And Kiyo is popular. I’m not sure I like her, exactly, but she seems to attract girls almost as much as Kohaku does.
After Kane and the others left to get ice cream after school today, Kohaku asked if he could walk me home. I just froze. Risuni dragged me away before I could make too big a fool of myself, thank goodness. I’ve never known a guy to be so forward, especially since we met a day ago and barely know each other.
He still wants to talk to me even after what happened yesterday! Ugh. I should’ve said yes. Maybe I could’ve asked him about that song… Who am I kidding? I don’t have the guts to do that. Sigh.
Kiyo came over after dinner to work on the history project. At least, that’s what she said she wanted to do. She didn’t seem that interested in it. Instead, she asked me questions nonstop about the town, myself, Kohaku, whether we’d known each other long, when I’d moved here, etc. When I said I moved here seven years ago her eyes got super intense for a second and then she started talking about makeup. It was pretty weird. I finally told her I had to get other work done and she left.
Saturday, March 8th
Dear Diary,
I went to the woods this morning, as I usually do when I have the time, and I must have nodded off while reading or something, because I woke up and Kohaku was staring at me!
It was ridiculous. I was dressed like whatever and didn’t have makeup on or anything and I was in the middle of the woods by myself, for heaven’s sake! He was so nice to me though, and pretended it wasn’t weird at all. He’s so easy to talk to. We just started chatting while we walked home. I don’t feel like I need to impress him for him to like me or act like everything is no big deal. He’s so earnest all the time. He said he’d been looking for someone out there.
---
Who had he been looking for? Chihiro wondered. She had forgotten about the diary lying open on her lap to ponder the question. Her pen dangled loosely from her fingers. She tried to focus on the fact that he had clearly been looking for someone, someone who meant a lot to him, someone who wasn't her, but the other words he had said to her repeated themselves in her head.
You're much prettier without. You're much nicer when no one else is around. You can call me Haku if you want to. My friends call me Haku. Do I look familiar?
He was so easy to talk to. He had forgiven her when she blabbed insensibly. He had pretended not to see her embarrassment. He had such a nice voice, and he didn’t laugh when she had asked about the song. And though she barely wanted to admit it to herself, she found him attractive. She wanted to see him again. It probably won’t go anywhere, Chihiro tried to convince herself. Even if it could, we’re about to leave for college. It's not worth it. The timing is terrible. But she couldn’t stop thinking about it. Seven years ago. Have I seen him before? Do I know him?
Seven years ago. Back then, her hair would've been in a ponytail. That was the biggest change. It'd been short ever since that one trip to the salon. She’d cried after it had been chopped off but everyone told her she looked so pretty with it short that she’d kept it. Before that...
She opened a secret compartment in her jewelry box and pulled out a worn purple hair tie. This hair tie. She sat on her bed, contemplating it. She had worn the hair tie every day when her hair had been long. She had kept it safe and well-hidden in her jewelry box ever since she stopped wearing it. You’re not the only one who needs protection. Chihiro had kept the feeling that it was very important, but no longer knew why. Why had she protected this hair tie so carefully? Come to think of it, I can’t even remember where I got it. Back when she wore it, she had never needed anything else. Her friends and parents always bought her hair-things, but they sat in a small drawer, still in their packaging, untouched.
Three short encounters, and he had her thinking about things she hadn’t thought about in years.
Chihiro put a hand to her hair. Maybe it was time to grow it out again. Her mother’s voice rang from the hallway, making her drop the hair tie in surprise.
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