A/N: The movie didn't explain how Kohaku reacted after his river was filled in by humans, or how he came to be in Yubaba's service. I asked myself those questions and extrapolated, so this story came into being.

I don't own Spirited Away, Studio Ghibli, or any of its characters (much as I wish I did).

Kohaku's Choice

Kohaku tore through the air, in dragon form; his eyes were blurry, and it took him a second to realize he couldn't see because of tears. What had always been his by birthright had been stolen from him, ripped away by those pesky humans. He was a river spirit, but for what, now? His river was gone, filled in and built upon. He shuddered; his power was draining, along with the Kohaku River that had been his to look after for so long. And he had failed. He had a dried up riverbank and next to no power left.

Kohaku recalled the happy days, back before the river had been destroyed. He had rather enjoyed watching the little kids play, and making the river surge up to splash the lounging adults. Once he had saved a little girl from drowning, when she lost her pink shoe... Her parents had called for her desperately, and they were immensely relieved when he nudged her up onto the bank with her shoe. "Chihiro" was her name, he remembered now. She'd been such a cheerful girl. And now he would never have the satisfaction of seeing her or any of the other children again. He would only ever be able to watch bitterly as the human population started settling on the remains of his river. It was as if half his soul was missing, and he remembered how devastated his uncle had been when his river was destroyed. He understand perfectly now.

Kohaku released an anguished shriek; birds called in response and surged into the air, crowding around him comfortingly. He irritably brushed past them, his long form whipping them as he passed. He flew over a lake, eying his blindingly white reflection with distaste, his green mane flying in the wind. This lake belonged to some other spirit; he could see its eyes following him, wide with fear, as he passed. He roared again with disgust and he went on.

Finally night fell, and despite himself, Kohaku found himself becoming weary. He flew blindly, ignoring the weakness. He didn't care anymore. He would keep going until he fell out of the sky, or died of hunger and misery. He had nothing to live for anymore.

Another anguish-filled day passed. Pain gnawed his insides every time he glided over a river, and hunger bothered him every second. But still he flew on, relentless in his vain quest to forget. He had loved that river, but he didn't realize it till the day it was gone. He had always taken it for granted.

Kohaku felt his eyes start to close. He blinked hard to keep them open. It was nighttime again, and he was passing over a little, brightly-lit village. His eyes drifted closed again, and this time he plummeted out of the sky, too tired to remain in the air. He hit the ground with a loud thump and a groan. A moment later the pain came- distantly, as if to another person. It still didn't equal up to any of the pain he'd felt from losing his river.

After that, he was too tired to remember anything more than whispered voices and running feet, and then the sensation of being picked up. He slipped into unconsciousness.

Kohaku opened his eyes again to find himself in human form, laying on a bed in a large room that was obviously an infirmary. Frog-like people bustled around him, wearing nurses' outfits. He spotted several other plain white beds in the room, some occupied by groaning spirits. A weird mixture of soap and medicine drifted to his nostrils, and he wrinkled his nose in distaste.

The first thing he realized was that his hunger and the weariness had gone away. He leaned comfortably back in his bed, before the strange feeling of forgetfulness drifted to the forefront of his fuzzy mind. He tried to remember why he was there, in this weird infirmary, and not at home near his river. Suddenly the terrible realization of the death of the Kohaku River descended upon him once again, and his eyes closed momentarily. He tried to sit up, but fell back when his head spun. Tears sprang to his eyes. He felt heavy, and he was sore all over. He detected bruises on his left side when he shifted. He instinctively reached out for magic to heal himself, but he felt strangely weak when he couldn't reach the right kind of magic. It had disappeared along with his river. Another surge of pain lapped over him, but this time it was mental pain. He felt something wet slide down his cheek.

"Oh good, you're awake," said a frog-nurse, walking up to him with a kindly smile.

"Where am I?" he croaked, lifting a heavy hand and irritably brushing the tear away.

"This is Yubaba's bathhouse. You're in the infirmary," the nurse told him. She grabbed his wrist none too gently to feel his pulse, and then reached out to touch his forehead. Kohaku groaned. He had heard unpleasant things about Yubaba's bathhouse, and he knew it was far away from his river.

"Why am I here?" he asked. He just wanted to leave and return home, but home was long gone.

"You fell out of the sky," the nurse reminded him sternly. "You exhausted yourself, flying so hard. What possessed you to fly like that without stopping? What are you, anyway?"

"I was a river spirit," muttered Kohaku, distraught. The nurse caught the past-tense and fell silent sympathetically.

"You're a little bruised, but you will recover just fine," she assured him.

"Thanks," he sighed listlessly, his eyes fluttering shut. He heard the clicking of her heels as she started to walk away.

His eyes flew open suddenly. He latched out and grabbed her arm in a tight grip. She spun around, her eyes widening with shock when she saw his desperate, pleading expression.

"What is it?" she asked politely, but her face told him that he had scared her. He released her arm.

"I need help," he begged. "My river is gone, and I don't know what to do now. I don't have a home anymore." Kohaku impatiently bit back tears, watching her with narrowed eyes. The frog-nurse considered.

"Yubaba can help you," she decided. "After you recover. But you need rest first!" He glowered at her for a moment before he heard the truth in her words.

"Alright," he groaned, falling back against the bed. He felt drained, as if he had no emotion or energy left. His eyes closed again; he pulled the gray covers over his head so no one could see the tears that slid down his cheeks. He heard the nurse walk away and start whispering to her friends about him. He heard them respond with sympathy, and bitterness surged through him. These days, it wasn't all that uncommon for a river spirit to wander in, full of grief after the loss of its river.

He slowly drifted off to sleep.

Kohaku woke up a while later- his inner instincts told him it had been several days. His sleep had been plagued by uneasy dreams at first, but finally he had been able to fall into a deep, restful slumber. He sat up now, feeling his bruises and discovering that they didn't hurt as badly. He felt physically better, but his mind was still in torment.

"Kohaku?" The nurse had come over to him again, her face still gentle. "Yubaba would like to see you soon." He nodded. He didn't ask how she knew his name- he had been told before that he spoke in his sleep sometimes, especially when he was upset. Besides, it wouldn't be that hard to research rivers that had been filled in recently.

She gave him a bowl of soup to eat, and he gulped it down quickly. He stood up; some detached part of his mind was pleased that he wasn't dizzy anymore. The rest of it was fuzzy with grief.

"I'll take you to Yubaba," said a little frog, hopping over to him with way too much excitement for Kohaku's liking. "She's at the top floor, so we'll have to take a couple elevators." Kohaku nodded, disguising his distaste behind a blank face, which wasn't too hard to muster. He followed the frog out of the infirmary and down several long hallways, bustling with servants and dirty customers. They stepped into an empty elevator that whizzed upward with almost nauseating speed. Kohaku gazed blankly at the wall as they sped past. He thought he heard the frog pestering him with questions, but he completely ignored it. Eventually, the frog gave up.

The frog led him out of the elevator, and Kohaku found himself looking down several floors, all crowded with people. This one wasn't nearly as busy, though. The frog led him into another elevator; Kohaku felt a sense of apprehension when it stopped at a totally empty hallway. A large door stood at the end of it.

"Go in," the frog said brightly, waving him on, although Kohaku could see veiled fear in his eyes. He stepped off the elevator with a sigh and onto the marble floor. He heard the whisper of the elevator as it descended again. He took a deep breath before moving forward again, clenching his fists. He knew he should be cautious, but what did he have to lose now?

Kohaku approached the door hesitantly. He lifted his hand, paused, and knocked on the door.

"Come in," called a voice. An elderly woman's voice. A voice he would be hearing for many years to come.

Kohaku opened the door, looking around with bland curiosity. The room was large and warm. The windows displayed a spectacular view of the lake and the train tracks. In the middle of the room he spotted a large desk, with a huge woman seated behind it. Her white hair was swept back into a tight bun, her face dominated by a big, ugly nose and many wrinkles. Her gaze was sharp and cunning. This was a woman to be wary of.

"You are Yubaba?" asked Kohaku, approaching the desk.

"Yes," she answered brusquely. "Looking for a job, are you? Well, you look as if you have at least some potential..." She eyed him disdainfully for a moment. Then her expression changed, almost softened... calculating. "You have a lot of undiscovered power. You could be very useful to me." Kohaku shrugged emotionlessly.

"If you want me," he said. "My river was taken away from me, I have nothing else." He paused. "I actually have only little power left."

Yubaba nodded, sneering. She pulled out a piece of paper and wrote on it, then pushed it across the desk.

"Sign it," she snapped. Kohaku obediently bent down and signed his name, shoving it back across the desk when he was done. She snatched it up and eyed it critically.

"Kohaku, you're called?" she said. "I remember hearing about that river now. Such a pity." She snickered, waving her hand. The Japanese letters scrambled themselves around. "You are now known as Haku. You will be my apprentice."

Haku bowed. When he straightened, his gaze was hard and steely, his memory wiped clean. Or, rather, locked behind a wall that he would never be able to breach by himself.

"I am your loyal servant."