It had been three years since he'd seen the girl who had befriended him and eventually brought him to Zeniba's house, where the good witch—quite the opposite of her sister, Yubaba—had helped him become a productive and humble spirit.

No-Face stopped knitting and looked out of the open window of Zeniba's cottage. The dusk was deepening into evening and the air was cool and fresh, just like the night Chihiro and Haku had left. The once misunderstood spirit wondered briefly why Chihiro hadn't said goodbye to him. He charitably—and accurately—reasoned that it was because the little girl had been so eager to go back to the bathhouse to free her parents from the spell.

"Are you still thinking about Chihiro?" asked a gentle voice behind him. No-Face turned to see Zeniba looking at him sympathetically. He nodded. Though he knew some Japanese and could communicate well enough with the humans and the other creatures, he usually did not have much to say.

"I have a feeling she'll be back someday," Zeniba said sincerely.

No-Face cocked his head at her, as if he didn't quite believe it. Chihiro had her beloved parents now and was on the other side of the gate to the spirit world. Zeniba guessed what he was thinking and gave him an encouraging smile.

"I don't know when, but I'm sure it will be before long," she continued. No-Face returned to his knitting. When will I see her? She was my first friend, he thought.

Zeniba had said that Chihiro would come back. Of course she would! She had to.

…

"Those look very interesting, Chihiro. How very creative!"

Chihiro startled and looked up at her art teacher, Mari Hashimoto*. She and her classmates had been asked to invent and draw fantastic creatures, and Chihiro had so far drawn some of the spirits and gods she'd met in the bathhouse three years, including No-Face.

"Oh…thank you," Chihiro said quietly. She finished drawing the markings on No-Face's mask.

Chihiro hid a wistful frown. Of course, nobody knew that her 'creations' were real. Chihiro missed many of the people, creatures and spirits she'd met at the bathhouse and beyond. She thought fondly of Haku, Lin, Zeniba, Boh—and No-Face. As she put away her pencils, Chihiro again felt a twinge of regret for not having said goodbye properly.

Now that she was entering her awkward teenage years, Chihiro had on more than one occasion wished she could slip away from the various stresses and dramas of her life and go back to the bathhouse, but how could she do it? She couldn't drive back to the mysterious tunnel that had led her to that strange and wonderful world of spirits, and if she asked her parents to bring her back, what would they say? They had been no memory of the amount of time that had passed or even of eating the enchanted food. Chihiro's father especially had been baffled by the fact that a month's worth of dust and moss had crept over their car; to him, he and his wife had only been gone a few minutes.

"Chihiro! What's going on in that empty head of yours, moron? Class is over!" a jeering male voice laughed.

Chihiro felt her face burning as she came back to the present and rose from her chair, taking her pencil box and sketch pad with her.

"Shut up, Minori!" Chihiro spat, ready to chuck the box of pencils at him. She often drifted into thoughts of the 'other world', the world occupied by fantastic gods, fascinating creatures, and one very much loved dragon boy. This had earned teasing from all but her closest friends. But even her best friend never knew what was in Chihiro's daydreams.

"Can't take the truth, eh?" the lanky boy sneered, following her out of the classroom. "My name means 'truth'. I tell it like it is."

The sketch book and box of papers fell to the floor of the hallway with a thud. Chihiro flew at Minori, knocking him to the floor and pinning him down with surprising strength. There were gasps from the students standing in the hall as Chihiro slapped her nemesis's face.

"How dare you, Minori!" Chihiro shouted, her dark eyes blazing. "You think you're just the biggest thing to come to this school? You're wrong! You're nothing but a big bully!"

"Let me up…not fair…you attacked me…" Minori gasped.

"No!" Chihiro hissed, just as someone grabbed her hand and pulled her away.

"Miss Ogino, enough! You may leave school now!"

Chihiro turned and cringed; the principal was holding her arm and looking very angry indeed. Minori scrambled to his feet, gave Chihiro a provoking smirk, and then fled. The other students were still paused as if frozen. One girl had dropped a stack of books onto her foot and didn't even notice.

Nobody had expected 'spacey' Chihiro Ogino to react like this. One boy started to clap, for Minori had been a bully to more than one schoolmate. A warning glance from the principal silenced the boy.

"Unless," the principal added as an afterthought, "you don't have a way to get home until school lets out."

"No. I walked to school, I can walk back," Chihiro said dully.

"That'll do," the principal said smoothly. "Come to my office during lunch period on Monday and we'll discuss your discipline."

Nodding to show she understood, Chihiro picked up her drawing supplies and went to her locker to get the rest of her things. She crammed it all into her backpack, slung it over one shoulder, and marched away. The boy who had clapped called out to her:

"Don't let that Minori get you down! He's a real wimp when someone plays his own game, right?"

Chihiro flashed him an appreciative smile but continued walking. She was soon out of the building and headed to her home, which was only five miles away. Without any conscious initiation, her mind flashed back to that fateful morning when she and her parents had been driving to that home for the first time. She could almost hear her father's voice:

"Look, Chihiro, there's your new school!"

"It doesn't look so bad," her mother had chimed in.

"It's gonna stink. I liked my old school," the sulky ten-year-old Chihiro had rebuffed her.

Chihiro had started attending that school the day after she and her parents had returned from…well, you know where. Chihiro did not want to think about it, or she might cry, and crying and walking at the same time was not a good combination.

But she couldn't help it; Chirhiro's vision blurred and she had to blink back the tears when she came to an intersection so that she could see when it was safe to cross. She suddenly felt again like the confused, lonely Chihiro of three years ago.

And then—

Chihiro felt herself being drawn back to that spot; back to the rutted lane in the woods, that archway, and that tunnel. She began to walk a different direction, turning away from the intersection and heading in a more westerly direction. She was going back. Of that Chihiro was sure. She had no idea how she knew the way, but she kept walking.

"I'm coming, Haku! I'm coming, Lin and No-Face and Zeniba! I'm coming, Boh! Even you, Yubaba! And everyone else!" Chihiro cried out as she walked on, her eyes on a low, distant hill. That was where she had to go.

*Hashimoto is a Japanese surname meaning 'base of the bridge' according to . I chose this to allude to the bridge that leads to the bathhouse. 'Mari' is the name of a wonderful art instructor at the community college I attended a few years ago. She's a brilliant artist and loves to share Japanese culture, so this, in part, is dedicated to her. :)