Disclaimer: I do not own Spirited Away.
I
The first time he met her, he had thought nothing of it. At ten years old and already attempting a solemnity more befitting of a wizened old man, he had been sitting quietly on the riverbank pondering why exactly his classmates were such idiots, and always insisted on behaving like hyperactive monkeys during class, when he heard a shrill, feminine scream. Anxious at what he might find, he rushed toward the source of the unnerving sound—the bend of the river just a little ways off that had been obscured by a thick clump of trees. Quickly scanning the scene, he noticed a girl clinging desperately to a submerged tree root, struggling to keep her head above the violent current as she gasped for breath. He extended an arm down to her.
"Don't be scared! Grab my hand and I'll pull you up."
Her terrified eyes darted toward his earnest emerald ones before glancing back at the outstretched appendage.
"Trust me," he pleaded.
She nodded once, and slowly pried her clutch from the root, not without effort. She reached for him, her faith placed entirely on this stranger. Icy tendrils of water whipped at her legs, intent on dragging her to a watery grave, panic clouding her mind and making her head spin—a firm hand gripped her arm, and with one great heave, pulled her out of the water. The two tumbled back in a tangle of limbs and sprawled on the grass, panting—him from the exertion and her from the fear.
After lying there for a couple minutes, catching their breaths, he rolled onto his side to examine her, the grass tickling his cheek. She was just so small. No wonder he had been able to pull her up. But what he really wanted to know…
"What happened?"
She started, her cheeks flushing a delicate pink, and mumbled, "I slipped."
Huh. He raised an eyebrow, unsurprised.
"I'm Haku by the way. What's your name?"
"Chihiro."
"How old are you? I'm ten."
"I'm seven," she proudly announced, her warm chocolate eyes peering at him through thick lashes. "Thank you for saving me."
They lay there in silence, the sun warming their chilled skin. Haku spoke up again.
"You should go home and dry off. Your parents should be getting really worried now and it would be bad if you caught a cold. Do you know how to get home?"
"Yup," she exclaimed brightly as she bounced to her feet, "Thanks again, Haku-chan!"
He twitched at the suffix, a frown of distaste marring his childish face as he watched her skip away. Girls.
II
When they met a second time, he knew it had to be coincidence. There she was, walking toward him from across the bridge, illuminated by the gentle glow of the late afternoon sun, schoolbag in hand. He was almost surprised that he could recognize her kind eyes so easily, but not quite—they had, after all, continuously plagued his thoughts since that fateful day. One glimpse into them and he was once again swept nine years back to the day he had saved this clumsy child's life. Now, though, there was nothing really child-like about her, save the sweet aura of curiosity and innocence that still radiated from her like the heat of a summer sun. Only traces of baby fat from a content childhood remained, and her body was that of a girl stumbling into adulthood—limbs dangling awkwardly at her sides, strides a little too long, feet faltering slightly over the bridge's wooden planks—all in all, entirely too endearing. He would be lying if he said that he hadn't thought about her more than a few times since the day they had first met. There was just something about her that he couldn't quite put a finger on.
The soft rustling of leaves startled him from his thoughts, and his eyes snapped forward in her direction. She was so close. Every step she took brought her toward him. He struggled to maintain his cool composure as a thousand thoughts flitted through his head. Would she see him? Would she remember him? What should he do? Should he greet her or ignore her? Should he stay standing or walk past her? But the soles of his shoes were glued to the ground and his legs were leaden and weighed a thousand tons and—his mind went blank. A soft, distinctly feminine floral scent inundated his senses as two soft words floated up to his ears.
"Hello, Haku."
Had he been looking at her at that moment, he would have seen the knowing smile—of what, he didn't know—she had sent his way, but he was frozen, eyes staring blankly past her as she walked by him, feet rooted firmly in place as his mind struggled to process that yes, she had remembered him, even remembered his name; and yes, now she probably thought he was a fool. The back of his neck burned in mortification.
It wasn't until the burnt oranges and reds of dusk flooded the sky as he headed home that he realized that kami, he really was a fool.
III
The third time around, Haku realized he was in love. He sat in the restaurant, elegant fingers drumming an impatient beat against the rich cream tablecloth, as he waited for his date. It was too loud, too hot, too boring. There were so many other—better—things he could be doing right now, he sulked, instead of sitting through another one of these horrible blind dates his mother had once again arranged for him. She was unnecessarily worried that he, at age twenty-five, was going to end up unmarried, old, and lonely, and that she was going to end up grandchild-less. It couldn't be helped that he found the women she set him up with unintelligent, unattractive, obnoxious, dull or all of the above. Really, the last one had been positively revolting, bits of chewed food and saliva spewing out in all directions (but mainly toward him) as she prattled incessantly about her delightful desk job and her office's nasty drama and gossip. He cringed at the memory. Where on earth did his mother find these women?
He sighed. At least this restaurant had plushy chairs. Maybe tonight would be better, he thought rather hopelessly. Maybe his date wouldn't even come. Alas, this was not meant to be, he lamented, as he noticed the familiar motion of the hostess directing a woman to his table.
The woman approached him, and he began his customary before-dinner-appraisal of his date. Stylish high heels, long legs, slender build, dark silky hair tied back in a ponytail, Chihiro's lovely brown eyes—He stood up abruptly as she stopped before him.
"Chihiro," he managed to choke out, "is that you?"
She nodded, lips curving upward into a small smile. "It's been a long time, hasn't it, Haku?"
The two sat down. As they began ordering their dinner, he was hit by a revelation that didn't surprise him at all. The reason that he had been uninterested in any woman he had met, any woman his mother had set him up with, was because they hadn't been her. This was only their third encounter, but he was already filled with a sense of warmth, of contentment—a wholeness that he hadn't realized he was missing until now. He was in love with her, the child, the girl, the woman. No, he had always loved her; he just hadn't realized it. But judging by her gentle expression, she had known long before he had. Now, as he gazed at her over the menu in his hands, he wondered if maybe, just maybe, this was fate.
END
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PG