White Death
Rating: PG-13 for death
By: LadyRainStarDragon
Disclaimer: Spirited Away is not mine
Summary:
Lily's death. Why Chihiro was so touchy about her mom trying to console her about the anniversary of her friend's death in Rivers Keep Flowing. Originallya one-shot. There will be two more chapters, which will give information about her new birth, and her new role.
'So much white.'
The child sat beside a snow-white bed, holding a cream-white hand, inside a cloud-white room, feet resting on an off-white linoleum floor. Her friend had hated being cooped up inside, sharing her love of running free by the river when it had existed, or through the forest.
Now, Lily couldn't run. Period.
Chihiro had gotten over all of the sicknesses that had plagued her childhood shortly after she had moved away from the community at the age of nine, which was two years ago now. This had given her immune system time to build itself back up, and so when she returned in the summers now she would not get sick.
Lily did not have that opportunity. Colds, flus, chicken pox, and other common childhood diseases would slam the area, then mutate and slam the children again. Many had even been diagnosed with something called West Nile. She didn't really understand, but she did know that it was bad, that it ate away at what had made her friend be able to move and function.
Lily had once said that it made her feel like some demon was squatting in her body, feeding on her. She described a ringing that would occur when things were getting ready to act up again. Mostly though, her will had been broken by not being allowed to go outside anymore.
The beeps of the machine were slowing, but the child refused to let go of her friend's hand. She might not be able to follow, but this 11 year old would stay with her friend until death swept the other away.
'What if Death is all white too?'
Lily was asleep, long blond hair spread free around her head, overflowing the pillow to show at least some of her formerly care-free nature, the ends kissing the white robe she had insisted Chihiro help her put on. Lily had wanted to be ready when the spirit of death finally came to take her away into a new adventure. The tiny hands were so frail and cold, and something within told Chihiro that it would be soon, and her friend would no longer be in pain whether physical or mental.
There was a presence in the corner, tall and masculine. It wasn't a doctor or nurse, and every time she looked up, she saw nothing. She could feel it though, feel it's sorrow as keenly as she felt her own. Was he Death?
A tired smile stretched Lily's face.
'I see the river, Chihiro. I'll wait for you there. Till we meet again, fare well.'
Tears fell down Chihiro's face as the beeps became a drone. The white that had filled Lily contracted, becoming a tiny, tiny seed pearl, and traveled up Chihiros arm to her heart. There was pressure, the feeling of something passing through herself, and falling. The floor came up to greet her, and unseen arms lowered her gently to rest upon its cool surface. There was the flash of white scale and white furred tail-tip flashing before her face, Death leaving the room as his job had been admirably done for him by the girl who had just began her Miko training.
The feeling was gone, and all that remained was an empty body to keep the child company. Lily was now free of pain, no longer sick with a disease they were too late to treat. The presence was also gone, but he had left her with a gift.
The child frowned, examining the purple river lily.
The droning had called nurses in, and they worked around the immobile child, none having been able to lift her, as if she were glued. The electricity shot through the other childs body, but she was gone. They left, allowing the child to say goodbye, and intent on calling Mr and Mrs Tanaka before they moved the empty shell.
The little kimono clad child got up and leaned heavily on the bed, hair beginning to fall out of the magenta hair band restraining it. Chihiro held Lilys hand one last time.
'Till we meet again my best friend, Lily. Your best friend, Chihiro.'
Losing control of herself, she poured out her river of sorrow into the white sheets. Far below the Sacred Spring that once fed the Kohakugawa river, a sorrowing young man lay lost upon his futon, screaming about how his prize possessions best friend had to be so cruelly removed at such a young age, and how powerless he was to fix it. Somewhere deep inside the courses of the Fukaikohakugawa, a tiny seed pearl entered the body of one of the surviving fish spirits from the aboveground river, who had just been birthed by a female in sorcerous hibernation. The memories of the little soul were wiped and the jewel lay in wait to continue lessons that had been cut short by the meddling of a dog. If the fish spirit could hold on until the river once again ran free, Creator would be spared the sorrow of the loss of a promising young soul.
White is a symbol of death and mourning in Asian culture. Just in case somebody didn't know. The dead are dressed in a white kimono, folded closed in the opposite direction of what is normally worn.