To ten-year-old Hitoshi, it is love at first sight.
Chihiro has just moved to their small, sleepy town, and she's like a beacon of light in their dull little classroom. She immediately draws his attention (and every other boy's, much to Hitoshi's dismay), and has everyone asking her a flurry of questions. Where did you move from? What are your favorite songs? Anyone you like?
The last one has her pausing, and everyone pounces on her like a pack of hungry wolves. Her already naturally rosy cheeks turn bright tomato red.
Hitoshi finds himself leaning forward eagerly in anticipation. Silly, he knows, because she probably already has someone she likes from her old home, but Hitoshi still finds himself hoping.
The crowd of students coos and shrieks, demanding an answer. She looks down, all red-cheeked with embarrassment, and plays with the hem of her green and white striped shirt, probably hoping someone will save her.
It's obvious to Hitoshi that she feels uncomfortable being center stage, and he takes pity on her since the students obviously won't.
He takes a deep breath, stands up, and slams a hand on his desk, drawing everyone's attention. "Hey!" he growls. "We shouldn't be forcing her to answer anything. Look, she's clearly uncomfortable. Give her a break."
The crowd crows disapproval at him, but then the teacher claps her hands sharply, and says introduction time is over and it's time to start class.
Relief washes over the girl's face and her whole body, which was horribly tensed before, sags with the emotion. When the teacher tells Chihiro to take a seat beside him, she shoots him a shy little grin. And when she's near, she whispers a soft thank you.
Hitoshi spends the rest of the day as Chihiro's rosy-cheeked twin.
They are seven years into their friendship and one year into their boyfriend-girlfriend relationship when he finally learns the answer to that question from so long ago.
Hitoshi knows Chihiro is different, has known for a long time. There's something about her that says she's seen things he hasn't and knows so much more than he ever could. It's like she's stuck in her memories and can't seem to move forward.
Sometimes, Chihiro sports a longing distant look in her eyes, and it frightens him because she's not there anymore, not really. Her heart is in another place, and all Hitoshi can do is squeeze her hand and pull her out of her reveries and hope it's enough to bring her back to reality. She startles and looks at him with wide eyes, as if she forgot he was beside her. But she always smiles after that, though the misery doesn't escape his notice.
Other times, she screams and cries into the front of his shirt as a violent wave of emotions crash down on her. The pain is still too raw, the memories too fresh, and there's no bringing her out of it. He's helpless; all he can do is hold her together in a tight grip and hope she doesn't fall apart.
Today is different though. She's not seeing something that he'll never see and she's not crying either, but he feels like he'd prefer that when he shakes her awake so they can get to school on time, and she blinks up at him blearily, smiles, and whispers Haku.
Their wedding day is the most wonderful day of Hitoshi's life, and he likes to think it's the same for Chihiro.
She is standing in front of him in a pure white dress that hugs her body, and she's gripping his hands in her gloved ones. Her smile is free, open, and more beautiful than he's ever seen. Chihiro no longer gives him tight half-smiles. No, this one shines as brilliantly as the sun and it warms his cheeks and his heart to know that he was the one to put it there.
And all thoughts of that Haku fly out his mind when she presses her lips to his among the roar of their friends and family because even if Chihiro loved this Haku fellow once, she's Hitoshi's now and nothing can change that.
But he later finds out that he was too optimistic thinking that.
In her pure white hospital clothes, holding a baby swaddled in blue blankets, she looks almost angelic.
Chihiro looks up from her cooing when he enters the hospital room and smiles at him.
"I want to name him Haku." Chihiro smiles at the baby boy, who has Chihiro's rosy cheeks and her button nose and Hitoshi's dark hair, though it has a touch of green. Hitoshi's wife looks up at him pleadingly, and asks softly, "Can't we?"
"Of course," he agrees smoothly after his initial moment of shock. He manages a strained smile and gives his wife a one-armed hug.
Would Haku never stop haunting them? Hitoshi thought with despair.
"I just...thought you wanted to name him after your late father."
"I did," she agrees, resting a hand on Hitoshi's arm, "but I love Haku. The name, I mean," Chihiro adds quickly, realizing her mistake.
Hitoshi nods and replies with a quiet, "Right."
The hospital is cold and foreboding, nothing like the cheery home Chihiro and Hitoshi have lived in for the past fifty years.
She doesn't deserve this. She doesn't deserve to die in a place that's cold, methodical, machine-like.
She's lying on the bed, hooked up to so many machines that Hitoshi can't help but wince every time he sees them. Her hand shakes slightly as it reaches for him. He takes it into his own steady hands and grips it as tightly as he can without hurting her.
Chihiro smiles, just a toothy little grin, and she looks beautiful even with the wrinkles and white hair. But then she opens her mouth further and gasps out a soft Haku.
And then her grip slackens and the machine beside her beeps long and soft, filling up the silence. And it's just as well because it covers up the sound of his heart breaking.
Hitoshi has lost Chihiro to death, but it's not just that. He's lost her to something more, to that Haku.
But, Hitoshi muses bitterly, as he gazes down at his wife's smiling face, he supposes Chihiro was never his to begin with.