the little love that never will be
She was completely out of my reach. I often wonder where she is, whether she's happy, if she's content with her life now—is she still in this world? The angst of one who loved Ogino Chihiro, but will never have her—for her heart was already not of the human world.
My unrequited love story might be a typical cliché, but the circumstances that led to it were entirely otherworldly and peculiar that anyone might not believe me. In fact, until now, nobody believes me. Years later, I am still a single man, and I had often wondered—had she not met that creature, would we have been together?
The girl I loved was of the silent kind, who seemed a mismatched tag-along to the popular group. Small, mousy and dull, with eyes and hair of the quintessential brown color, she was always at the beck and call of the bright blondes and brunettes who strutted as if they owned the school.
Seemed, that is.
In truth, she was the person they silently turned to for approval whenever they made any decision. The actions were subtle, but even for the small things such as where to eat and when to leave, the flashy girls would always slightly turn to get her barely susceptible nod before they would proceed.
I was the only one observant enough to notice—it was in my nature. I was the typical quiet right hand man who subtly held the reins. I was the vice president, the quiet co-chairman, and the reliable vice captain. I was the observant person who never failed to point things out to the president, and I guess that that was the trait that had made me see who she really was—someone similar to me. A leader, who shies away from the spotlight, but is actually the quiet pillar from which everybody gathers his or her strength.
Ogino Chihiro. The first time I met her, I knew right away that she was an interesting person. She had just transferred into our school, and she entered the classroom with her hands clasped nervously in front of her, fingers twitching and never still.
It was after the teacher had introduced her, though, that I noticed a change in her timid profile: something like nostalgia flashed in her eyes, before it turned into a quiet determination, and then the flat line of her mouth shifted into a barely seen smile. She took a deep breath, as if to steel herself, then walked into the chair two rows ahead of me. She nodded at her seatmate, and I could not help but feel secretly amused—because behind the friendly façade and the determined eyes she was still nervous, as she had crossed both of her fingers behind her back.
From then on I began to notice her—she who had befriended the most unlikely group of girls, she who had become a quiet, albeit constant presence in the class.
Up to this day, I regret that I had only one personal encounter with Ogino Chihiro. Like a typical Japanese shoujo manga, it happened when the both of us were the class monitors for the day. As I was copying the names for the attendance, I could feel her gaze boring into me. I finally looked up and asked her, "Is something wrong, Ogino-san?" She smiled at me gently, her gaze soft. "I just remembered something," there was that nostalgic look in her eyes again, and she reached out a hand to finger the dark locks that reached past my chin, "it's just that…the both of you are so similar, in looks, in attitude. The color of your eyes, too. Had your hair been a deep blue violet…" The faraway look returned again, and then she shook her head and let go of my hair. "It's nothing. Let's go back to work." She looked away, then faced me again with a small smile, "And I'm sorry for touching your hair without your permission." There weren't any blushes for Ogino Chihiro, and I couldn't help but feel that I was somehow lacking.
She bowed her head again, and I had to take a deep breath. The moment she had smiled at me, it felt as if the invisible hand of Kami squeezed my lungs. My face was flaming like crazy (my crush had touched my hair, dammit), and I was very thankful for the fact that it seemed that she didn't notice—she was twirling the pen in her hands, a faraway look in her eyes.
Later, I offered to take her home (stuttering a lot, much to my chagrin), but she just smiled a tiny, enigmatic smile and said, "I'll be fine. You don't need to worry for me. Goodness knows he does too much of that already."
I was perplexed, and was about to ask who he was, when she gave me a final smile and raised a hand in goodbye, then walked away silently.
I tried to ignore the clenching of my heart, just because of her mention of some unnamed pronoun, and the fond, mock exasperated look that had accompanied it.
And that was it. That was the only time that I had talked to Ogino Chihiro, despite my fiercest crush on her.
Though I do see her hanging out at the small stream at the back of my house. My room had a window overlooking it, and through there I could see her standing on the bank, staring at it, rocking back and forth in her heels. Every afternoon of our whole first year, she would walk back and forth its bank, sometimes dipping her hand or bare feet in it.
It seemed that she had taken stream watching as a hobby, and I had taken to watching her as mine.
The next year I joined the soccer team, and because practice and training always ended at night, I never did see her at the riverbank again. However, Ogino Chihiro remained to be the girl of my literal dreams, and no matter what the others did she was the only girl I looked at.
My friends had branded me as crazy, because first, I liked her, and second, because I wouldn't confess to her. She would say yes to me, they said—who could ever say no to the school's shadow king?
"You should tell her you like her," my best friend would say, exasperated that I would just stare at her with the corner of my eye.
"Ogino-san hasn't had any boyfriend, yet, you know. You should just go ask her."
I shook my head at him, "No."
"Why not? This is the first time I've seen you without any courage to talk to a girl you like…"
I was still shaking my head at him. "Just, no. There's something about her that I don't understand. For some reason I can't go near her, but then surprisingly, I'm contented with that. And I think she likes someone else."
"Who? I don't think so. I hear that she goes with her friends on group dates, even if all she does is act like a chaperone. And have you heard any rumor about her having a boyfriend?"
I shrugged at him helplessly.
He just stared at me, "You, man, are crazy."
I couldn't agree more.
It was in the middle of our second year when Ogino Chihiro came in, slightly panting, red spots on her cheeks, and her hair windswept. Her smile was as bright as a child's on Christmas Day, and when she walked in it was like breathing fresh air that I swear my heart stuttered for a minute.
I was not the only one who noticed.
"Chi-chan?" It was her blonde friend. "Something's different with you today. You're…blooming. Really, there's no other way of putting it—did something happen?"
If it was possible, the red in her cheeks deepened, "No, nothing. Nothing happened."
I doubted it; denial that vehement meant that the uttered statement is never true.
I continued to watch her all throughout the day, and it seemed that there was always an extra bounce in her step, a deeper indentation in her dimple, and an extra brightness in her rare smile. I was infinitely curious, but even to her friends she never said a word.
As luck would have it, the soccer season ended that very same day, and I could go home early to partake in a favorite activity of mine—watching Ogino Chihiro at the stream. I ran home, panting, and threw my backpack on the floor of my room, and wrenched my window open.
But she wasn't there. There was no one at the stream. I sighed, and was about to close my window when I noticed a head breaking out of the shallow water. The figure shook the droplets from her hair and stood.
I could only gape. It was Ogino Chihiro, and she was naked, water droplets glistening from her body. And goodness gracious was she glorious. The brilliant smile that was on her face the entire day was never lost as she sat down on the grass, squeezing the water from her hair, and oh how could I miss the school uniform that was carelessly strewn around the bank? I stared. And she seemed to be…talking to the stream? And laughing with it, as she looked around for something. I could barely make out what she said, "Haku, did you see my hair tie? You know it's important."
She was still feeling around for her hair tie, naked, and I couldn't help but continue staring, when I swore two ice cold green eyes from the river snapped to my own and glared. Not a moment later heavy rain poured down, that I couldn't see a thing in front of me anymore. I couldn't even hear Ogino Chihiro anymore.
The next day she came to school with her hair down, her signature hair tie nowhere to be seen. Her friends had noticed, too, and she just answered with a sheepish smile, her cheeks turning into a faint pink, "Well, it's not with me today, someone was afraid I might lose it."
They thought that someone was her mother, but I knew otherwise—it was this Haku person, whoever he was. And I had this ugly feeling that the he she had talked about once, and the cold green eyes that had scared me so much yesterday were connected to this person in one way or another.
That exact same night, as I listened to the pitter-patter of the rain on my roof, I resolved that I would confess to her the very next day.
But I was too late, for the next day the principal announced that Ogino Chihiro had transferred to another place. She said it was for personal reasons. I'm not sure if you could imagine the utter loss that I felt, for while I did not have a lot of interactions with her, I knew that I loved her. Not just a high school crush—she was my first true love.
Her parents remained, though. And when I went to them, under the guise of vice presidential duties, their eyes were shifty, but I persevered until they had given me an answer: she was with her fiancé.
Needless to say, I was shocked as I was gently ushered out of the door with admonitions that I wasn't to tell anybody. I didn't. Even I myself did not believe it. But apparently it was true, though, because my classmates never saw Ogino Chihiro again.
Except for me. That same afternoon, after I had arrived home feeling dejected and hopeless, I opened the window to see her break out of the river at the back of our house once more. She was naked again.
I was on the verge of crying out her name in unbridled relief, but the next moment a beautiful white and green dragon ascended from the water, let Ogino Chihiro ride in his back, and off they went into the skies, the girl's relentless giggles following their ascent.
And there it was again—the dragon's ice green eyes that had once glared at me were now staring impassively. How I wanted them to say, She's mine, she's mine, you will never have her, for at least it meant that I had a chance with her.
But all they were saying was—She wasn't even yours to begin with.
That expression pinned me to the earth where Ogino Chihiro was no more, right before the heavens poured cats and dogs and sleet and the wind howled its sad lullaby into my ear.
.
.
I miss Hayao Miyazaki films. And I've been trying to turn out a Spirited Away story, for what, years? I'm not sure how this was, though. It feels too...ambiguous. Please review! Thanks for reading!