Chihiro's locker closed as she gathered her books. The students behind her clustered, talking as they walked, hands waving. She smiled at a few as they passed and they nodded, never a pause in their rapid gesturing. She just stared after them fondly, hesitating in arranging her bag when one addressed her. But no, she didn't have to wait on her and yes, she was fine walking home alone.

The girl smiled goodbye and ran after the others, and the hall was quiet. Chirhiro finished with her bag. The afternoon sun spilled through the windows, illuminating the soft flecks of dust in the air. The silence was odd in the school. There were echoes in the walls.

Chihiro turned and the light fell across her face. There was magic in this. It was unusual and odd but warm. She could almost feel the fire of the boiler and hear the light cacophony of the baths. She turned away from the light, shrugging her bag over her shoulder, which unbalanced her. Stumbling, she rested a hand on the lockers. Looking up, she saw she wasn't alone.

It was a boy, and he was watching the same patch of air that she had been. He was not wearing the school uniform. His collared shirt was tucked into the band of his jeans and was crisp and white. The sleeves rolled delicately to his elbows. If the blue slippers on his feet were unusual here, they suited him perfectly, small and light. She could see the bared skin of his ankles.

Nothing about had changed. There was nothing special about him but for the boyish gleam of his features. His hair was still cut to the neat trim that cropped his shoulders and still held that greenish tint like swamp water and moss.

She stood and he turned to her.

And his eyes were still the same. Solid grey stones somehow turned soft and malleable. She remembered them constrained, cold and distant, and she remembered them free, the free-falling shine of silky smoke as they plummeted together towards the sea. She remembered how she knew he would never let her hit the ground. She had never even thought about it.

And the magic was still there. The whisper of Other, Spirit, Dragon, that she would never forget.

The book in her bag pressed into her thigh with its sharp corner as she stood before the lockers. He smiled and it seemed long and beautiful. If the wisdom in his eyes did not match the childish glow of his mile, then they melded together, turning and twisting in the dance between knowledge and innocence.

Dragon.

Kohaku.

Chihiro smiled at him.