Sen.

(Most of them never had learned her real name, had they? In her sleep, she almost smiled.)

Sen. Sen. Sen. Listen to us, Sen. You have to come back. Please.

(Images flashed. Scales shifted and glided beneath her open palms, a baby whined in her ear, rain whispered on the ground. She could see the Yubaba's elegant decorations, Kamaji's long, spindly arms, Lin's disapproving glare. The ocean sparkled under the sun, blood splattered against an ornate carpet.)

Chihiro.

(This was the voice that always seemed loudest, the one that she knew the best. It was soft and careful and guarded, but somehow it seemed warmly familiar as well. Someone was holding her hand, cool fingers intertwined with hers. Tall grasses pushed against her legs.)

It's been four years, Chihiro. You won't last much longer. Please, come back.

(The hand was slipping away. Something inside of her gasped, tearing at her chest. She cringed.)

You're dying, Chihiro. You can't stay there. Come back. Please, come ba-

Chihiro's eyes snapped open. The sheets were cool and damp with the humidity of the summer air, clinging to her sweaty skin. Moonlight filtered through the grime on her window, illuminating the dust floating through her air before falling onto the worn wooden floorboards of her bedroom. Outside, everything was still.

It had only been a dream. Chihiro had been having a lot of those lately – she heard them calling to her. Turning on her mattress, she reached out and felt along the surface of her bedside table until her hand brushed against something soft and cool. Her shimmering pink hairband. Her fingers closed around it tightly, feeling along the silken edges, and something within her relaxed slightly.

It was strange to think that it had been four years since she had left the spirit world. She had been just a little girl back then – eleven years old, whiny and complaining, oblivious. And yet, despite all that had changed in those four years, she could still remember their world as if she had just visited it yesterday. She could feel the heat of the boiler room and vividly recall the sharpness of Yubaba's nails. She supposed it wasn't that unusual to forget such a fantastical experience, but still she wondered at how she could clearly remember even the tiniest details of her journey.

Her eyes wandered toward the digital clock near her outstretched hand. 1:37 AM. She heaved a great sigh before swinging her legs over the side of her bed while tying her hair up like she had when she was younger. Her appearance hadn't changed much since back then – she was still relatively short and incredibly scrawny, though her hair had grown longer. Chihiro hesitated, glancing at the stained waitress uniform thrown carelessly at the foot of her bed. She had work the next morning. Still, it wasn't like she was going back to sleep anytime soon. A quick walk couldn't hurt.

Shoving her feet into a pair of old shoes and shrugging on a sweatshirt, she padded past her parents' bedroom and through the rickety screen door out into the crisp night. The grass slid beneath her feet, damp with dew, but she hardly minded. Their house was the last one on the street, and it was easy enough for her to sneak through the yard and make the small leap off the concrete wall that lifted their street off of the hill. The ground was slick, though, and she ended up crashing onto her elbows and sliding down a few feet before her heels dug into the mud enough to stop her descent.

Chihiro lay there for a moment, breathing heavily, before climbing back to her feet and gradually continuing her journey down the hill until she reached the tiny houses that she had asked her mother about so many years ago. She stroked one as she passed it, fingers brushing along the icy surface, and then continued along the road and into the woods. The silence was almost deafening, but Chihiro was used to it – she had, after all, made this same journey many times before.

The walk wasn't a long one. She soon arrived at the old building her father had once declared to be fake, passing through it with a great deal more bravery than she had her first visit. Her footsteps echoed, the sound bouncing off the walls and making her feel all the more alone despite the way the building groaned its greeting. It was all very familiar – she passed by the stones that marked the dried up river, passed through the empty shops of the town. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine the shadow people lurking behind counters, watching her. She could almost see Yubaba's bird circling above.

Sen.

It was a sigh on the wind, and Chihiro blinked her eyes open, frowning. She could have sworn she heard Lin, calling to her. Her imagination, surely. Chihiro continued down to the bridge that led to the bathhouse, running her hand over the railing. The train tracks beneath it were empty, and she sighed, leaning up against the wooden frame.

Sen.

Chihiro's head whipped up. It was Yubaba's voice that time, cruel and yet somehow desperate at the same time. She was certain she had heard it, but the old spirit was nowhere in sight.

You've been away for too long, Chihiro. It's time for you to come home.

Haku. Chihiro's eyes widened. Suddenly she felt something in her chest expand, filling her up and making her feel complete for the first time in ages. The world around her seemed to flicker like an old movie – in one moment she could see the silver and cerulean hues of the silent night, and in the next there was a warm scarlet emitting from the lanterns and the quiet sound of footsteps, and then back to the night. Chihiro blinked, jerking back, and was startled when she bumped into someone only to pass right through them a split second later.

Concentrate. Remember.

Kamaji's voice rasped through her mind, clear as day. Heart pounding, Chihiro squeezed her eyes shut, calling up every memory she had of the spirit world. The boiler, the radish spirit, a mouse on her shoulder, No Face. Someone bumped into her, but the footsteps were still flickering in and out of existence.

Hurry. You cannot remain in this state much longer.

"I'm trying, Kamaji," Chihiro whispered. She harshly forced herself back into those memories, morphing them around herself, tasting the river spirit's bitter medicine and listening to the running water of the bathhouse. She sucked in a deep breath, fingers curling as she remembered the feel of Haku's hand slotted into hers.

Someone shoved her forward, and Chihiro stumbled forward, eyes flying open as she desperately wind-milled her arms to stop her descent. Voices came from all around, and another person roughly shoved her forward. For a moment she stood there, not quite comprehending. The lanterns were lit and there were people in robes, people with masks. The bathhouse swarmed with activity.

The person in front of her stopped suddenly, then, spinning around and eyeing her with disbelief. It was a toad, a worker at the bathhouse. His mouth dropped open.

"A human!" he accused, the intensity of his voice causing Chihiro to stumble back a few steps.

So it was really happening, then. She shoved past the toad, squirming through the crowd and ignoring the shouts that followed her. Someone tried to grab her by her sweatshirt. Chihiro shrieked, yanking away before continuing to run. She flew off the path as soon as the bridge ended, ducking down into the small servant's entrance and passing through the barnyard into the inner courtyard, where she crouched beneath the rose bush trying to catch her breath and comprehend all that was happening. This wasn't right – she wasn't supposed to ever come back.

Someone's hand landed on her shoulder. Chihiro yelped, spinning around to face the stranger. Her eyes met startling green set into a pale face, and she froze.

"Haku," she whispered.

Well done, granddaughter.