Lots of thanks to my reviewers: xXEmoPrincessInoXx, cynthiarox66, and jorbor. I really enjoyed reading your reviews!

Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah, I don't own, blah, blah, blah, yeah.

"Chihiro! You're going to be late if you don't wake up right now!" My mother's shrill voice rang throughout the house, echoing off the walls.

My eyes opened slowly as if they were scared of what they would have to face. But open they did, gradually adjusting to the light from the sunlight penetrating my thin curtains. I had been awake since five in the morning when the nightly nightmare had finally released me from its grasps. It had done this reluctantly, however, which left me lying on my bed, the loneliness and pain I had felt during the nightmare keeping me wide awake.

I slipped out of bed cautiously—making sure not to step on any of the pencil-drawn sketches scattered around my room—to lift the lime green curtains restraining the rays of sunlight.

I walked around my room, jumping occasionally to avoid stepping on my sketches, to pack my emerald green backpack, stuffing it with my dark green pencil box, books, light green binder, and a sketchbook containing all of my latest drawings.

"I'm up!" I yelled to my mom as I shuffled to my adjoining bathroom, picking up my white-and-blue uniform from my closet on the way.

I walked around my green bathroom, gathering what I needed in order to take a shower. When I had everything, I took off my pajamas and stepped into the shower, my arms full of my cucumber scented body wash, shampoo, and conditioner whose bottles were also a light shade of green.

My sudden obsession with the color green had mystified my parents, who knew I had worn and owned nothing but purple until our move to the small blue house in the suburbs. They had thought that it was my way of rebelling against the move as I shoved everything purple I owned (translation= everything I owned) into the garbage bags. They had watched with disapproving eyes as I bought new things to replace my old junk, not failing to notice that everything I bought was green.

They had told me one night, as I picked on my food during dinner, missing the onigiri Haku had made for me, that my sudden change worried them. When I had asked what they were talking about, they had gestured wordlessly to my outfit. Looking down, I had noticed that I was wearing a green headband, green shirt, green shorts, and green flats. I had met their raised eyebrows with a huff, sliding the purple hair band from my mahogany hair to shove it into their faces.

They didn't complain after that because I had my retort on resting on the crown of my head 24/7. Even on the rare occasions when I would have my hair down, my purple hair band would be on my wrist, protecting me from my parents' complaints.

My purple hair band was many things—it was my hair accessory, it was my protector, and it was also the only solid reminder of my journey to the Spirit World. A solid reminder was essential because even I sometimes wondered if my adventures at the Spirit World were just figments of my imagination. This was mostly the result of my parents taking me to the therapist a few days after they turned human again for "making up such an unbelievable story." Remembering how entrapped I had felt by the too-white walls of the doctor's office as I picked on the hem of my green shirt stopped me from talking about my "fantasies" ever again.

I closed my eyes, running my fingers through my hair in the small shower stall. It was practically nothing compared to the grandeur bathtubs in Yubaba's bathhouse. I let the water beat against my back, relaxing my stiff muscles as I remembered cleaning the "big, slimy, gross tub" Rin and I had been assigned to clean on my first day. I had pretended not to give a second thought to the grime on the porcelain walls of the bathtub as Rin and I cleaned it because I had been terrified that Yubaba would turn me into a soot ball or a piglet before I found my parents if I complained. In my head, however, I had been throwing up at the smell and the sight of the bathtub, thankful that I wasn't a spirit since their senses were usually keen that those of humans.

I was suddenly hit with such a painful stab of homesickness that I kneeled over in the shower, the water continuing to massage my back. Despite the hard work, I would give anything to be at the bathhouse right now, cleaning up after customers, getting teased for my human smell, greeting Stink Gods, and bawling as I ate Haku's enchanted-to-make-the-eater-cry-their-eyes-out onigiri.

I straightened up with tremendous effort and turned off the water, a determined look in my eyes. This is what kept me going every day. The stabbing ache of homesickness that never missed its target on my heart every time I thought of my friends. I supposed it was, in a way, like causing self-harm. (1) I'd heard that people did such things to make sure that they could still feel and to get away from the thoughts in their head even if the moment of freedom lasted only for a second. My situation was very similar to theirs, the only difference being that I didn't harm my body in a way that made external scars on my skin.

No, my scars were internal, on my feeble heart. Every ache of homesickness that I inflicted upon myself was sent directly to my heart, ripping open the tender scars, making them bleed again before they were fully healed. It had suffered so much damage in the last seven years that I wondered how it was able to keep beating, pumping life into my body.

I shook my head, trying desperately to clear my head, to run away from the thoughts and pain I suffered from every day though I knew I couldn't. I dried my body and hair with a towel, my eyes still closed. The towel was so soft and warm, like Haku's lush mane—

My eyes snapped open. The six miles I had been running for the last few weeks wasn't good enough anymore if I was thinking about the Spirit World this much. It usually kept the worst thoughts away for at least a day, but it had only been about twelve hours since my last run. I would run seven miles today—the more, the better.

I dressed quickly in the school uniform, which consisted of a simple white blouse with a light blue ribbon as a tie, a navy blue blazer with gold buttons, and a blue, white, and black checkered dress that reached the middle of my thigh. Some teachers thought the uniform was too inappropriate for a school uniform, but the principal was quite young, and she was unwilling to "make the youngsters wear something that would make them feel ashamed of their school." I let out an annoyed sigh, scratching my shoulder where the rough fabric of my blouse rubbed against it. I missed the salmon uniform of the bathhouse—it was easier to move around in and much softer. Since they insisted on the school colors—blue and white—couldn't they just make something like a blue-and-white version of the bathhouse uniform, such as what Haku—

My eyes widened. What was wrong with me? During the seven years of waiting for—for him, I had trained myself to avoid thoughts of the Spirit World just enough to numb the pain while still remembering it. Yet today, my training didn't seem to be helping.

Back in my room, I approached the calendar I had made myself last December, like I had been doing for the past five years. A gargantuan green dragon had wrapped its body around a grandiose bathhouse that looked as small as a child's toy compared to it. This dragon, like the dragons I had drawn for every other month of the year, had taken endless time and effort, but the results were promising. It was so detailed that you could see every single scale on its body, reflecting a source of light not shown in the picture. The dragon's mane shone, thick and soft as velvet, its claws and teeth were bare, showing how terrifying it could be, but its eyes contradicted whatever vicious-looking claws and teeth suggested.

The emerald green eyes were as clear as the ocean, staring straight through whoever was looking at it. They showed pride, dignity, compassion, and gentleness. They seemed to pierce through your soul, reading your darkest secrets, your deepest desires, and your brightest dreams.

Shaking myself out of my reverie, I produced a red marker from the mess on my desk and crossed out yesterday's date. The simple X imprinted itself on my heart as well as the calendar, right on top of the scar from yesterday's X. I bit my lips to hold back the tears as my eyes ran over the twenty X's on the month of October.

My reason for crossing out the dates wasn't normal. Most people crossed them out because they were counting down to a birthday, anniversary, holiday, vacation, and other special occasions.

I did it to use the pain to keep it going. Because every single blood red X grew a twin on my heart. It was kind of like the way I recalled just the right number of memories everyday to keep me awake and alive.

Still biting my lip hard enough to draw blood, I slung my backpack over my shoulder and ran down the stairs, a flashback of running—or more like falling—down the wooden stairs on my way to Kamaji crossing my mind. I smiled grimly at how sharp my memory was while my mom handed me a bowl of noodles and rice. She stared at me while I swallowed down my breakfast, a sad glint in her eyes. I looked down at my food, the hair falling out of my ponytail shielding my guilty eyes from her.

I felt bad for being such a useless daughter. Before the adventure in the Spirit World, I hadn't been the best student, but I had still kept them entertained with things like stories about my day. But after my adventure, I had started drifting away. They caught me daydreaming, looking longingly into the sky, sighing at the river that flowed in the town a few miles from our house, and crying as if someone had died, at random times. They asked, demanded, tried to coax out, and begged for an explanation for my odd behavior, but they hadn't accomplished their goal, and they had given up. My silence had gradually torn me and my parents apart over the last seven years. I couldn't remember the last time we had spoken about something pleasant—even the good grades I always got and the trophies I won for swimming, running, karate, and my other sports obsessions weren't interesting anymore. I often felt I didn't deserve to be called their daughter—I was more of a stranger living in their house.

I thanked my mom quietly, so quiet that I thought my mom wouldn't be able to hear, but she murmured, "You're welcome, honey," just as silently. I got up from the low, traditional table I had insisted on despite the fact that I had hated kneeling to reach my food before the move. My backpack over my shoulder, my socked feet padded noiselessly over the paneled floors to the door, where I pulled on my dark green sneakers. With a bow, I walked out the door and into the street leading me to school.

Because I usually left for school much earlier than I needed to, I was never late despite my sluggish pace and frequent stops. I usually walked slowly through the forest, stopping to pray to the little houses and the small fox nestled between them before getting on the road. My wishes were always the same: Please let Haku come today. Quite obviously, my wishes had never come true, no matter how hard I prayed. Today, however, I had a new tactic that was so painfully obvious that I wondered how I hadn't thought of it seven years ago.

I clutched the packet of sweet senbei (A/N: Senbei are Japanese rice crackers.) that I had baked with care yesterday under my mother's worried gaze. She worried about everything I did these days, always thinking I had a reason behind what I was doing that I wouldn't tell her, so I hadn't let it bother me. I had burned my hand while using the oven, but I hadn't let my mom take over the baking. It was essential that I bake the senbei myself. Otherwise, the offering would do no good.

The little houses and the fox were slowly breaking down from age, despite how much time I had spent to clean them and keep them from crumbling. I had been told by the friends I had made when I had first moved here that they had been built when their great-grandparents were mere babies. I didn't really talk to those friends anymore—I had stopped talking to them a few years after the move.

I had been suffocating under the "help" and "advice" my friends had tried to give me, so I had just cut off all ties—a clean break. This was the reason why I had no friends at school—or anywhere else, for that matter—but it didn't bother me. I preferred to suffer alone. I didn't want anyone to suffer along with me and make the pain worse by giving me false hope and encouragement.

Then why are you still holding onto the Spirit World? Wouldn't it be easier if you stopped believing? It shouldn't be too hard to accomplish, a voice in my head suggested.

The suggestion sounded so peaceful and wonderful. Letting go of the Spirit World and its inhabitants would mean I could regain my friends and parents. I would finally be free from the pain. But it would also mean a part of me—the part that had treasured the memories of the Spirit World for seven years—would be empty. I would live obliviously, but oblivion didn't always bring true happiness. It would be like shielding a child from a war—it would keep them from the pain and terror of war, but it would leave them bare and vulnerable when and if they ever had to experience it themselves.

What if Haku really came to see me, and I couldn't remember? How much would it hurt him? Of course, it might not bother him at all, if he didn't care, but what if he did? It would put him through the pain I had been going through for the past seven years. I couldn't do that to him. And what if the memories I had been repressing suddenly sprang up when I saw him? It would hurt me to remember so suddenly that he had kept me waiting for who knows how long, leaving me to deal with the pain.

This is why I couldn't forget. This is what kept me going, not the silly, useless help my friends had given me. Of course, I didn't blame them for not understanding—I didn't expect them to understand without going through what I was going through.

Taking a deep breath as if I was getting ready for a karate competition, I pulled out a few senbei from the bag, placing some in each house and some in front of the fox. When the packet was empty, I folded it up and put it in my bag. After staring at the houses for a while, I gathered my hands together, bowing to them.

Please, I begged, please let today be the day when Haku comes to see me. I know the offering is small and it may not be as good as what you used to get when the townspeople cared less about money and more about spirits and nature, but it was made with care. Please, let today be the day when my wish finally comes true.

I repeated my wish a few more times to make sure the spirits understood how desperate I was. There was a very high chance that they already knew just how desperate I was—seeing that I had come here every day for the last seven years, rain or shine—but one could never be too sure.

After repeating my wish for the third time, I straightened up and opened my eyes. I started when I saw the houses. Was it just me, or did they look a bit—newer? And I swore I saw the eyes of the fox glint and the corners of its lips pull up into a smile. I shook my head. Maybe I was going crazy.

Or maybe the fox spirit will finally grant your wish, whispered the voice that had previously spoken to me.

Didn't you tell me before that I should stop believing? Pick a side, I thought.

Oh, just zip it, missy. I know you want to believe me, it taunted, cackling when I admitted in my head that a large part of me wished it was right.

I shook my head. I was having a conversation with a voice in my head, which was not the sanest thing to be doing. Glancing at my watch, I realized that I would be late to school if I didn't get a move on. After one last bow at the houses and the fox, I picked up my backpack from the floor. Dusting it off, I started walking towards school—just another distraction from my suffering. (2)

(3) The school bell rang just as I took my seat in my homeroom. My homeroom teacher strolled in to take role, tell us the morning announcements, and bore us with the rest of her obligations. I sat in the seat next to the window, drawing in my sketchbook while the girls in front of me gossiped about the "hottest guy in school."

Examining my work, I realized the dragon I had been working on for the past five days was only halfway complete. To anyone other than me, this sketch would seem flawless. To me, who had really seen a dragon, flown on one, and had been drawing them for seven years, it was nowhere near finished. The eyes were too dull, the scales were too glossy, the mane was too rough, and the teeth weren't strong enough.

Making sure that the teacher was still droning on, oblivious to the fact that her students were either falling asleep, making paper planes, whispering amongst each other, or—in my case—drawing, I pulled out one of my ten sharpened pencils and started fixing the dragon's scales.

A folded up piece of paper landed on my desk. I looked up, and saw Ryuuzaki, our class jokester/"cool" kid that girls were always drooling after, staring at the teacher a little too eagerly. I sighed as I opened the piece of paper, not bothering to destroy it. I knew he wouldn't give up until the message got to me.

Nice dragon.

I turned to the back of the paper wordlessly, without a single change in my expression. There, I saw what I expected.

How did I know you're drawing a dragon? Because that's all you ever do. I don't get why you're so obsessed with them.

I sighed, picking up my mechanical pencil.

Thanks. And why should I care if you don't get it?

No one does, I wanted to add, but it sounded much too serious for a note I was passing to the jokester of the class. I folded the piece of paper back up and tossed it over to the smiling black-haired boy sitting four rows away from me. He pretended not to notice it, but once I pretended to look away, he opened it curiously. His face dropped, something that happened everyday, but I didn't see why he would feel disappointed with my reply—unless he was waiting for a more vicious reply.

The smile was plastered back on his face, but I could see disappointment clear in his eyes. His eyebrows knit together, and he nodded at Toshiro, his best friend who sat in front of him. He scribbled something on the piece of paper, but the bell rang before he could toss it to me, and the homeroom teacher exited. Before chaos could break loose, our strict math teacher entered.

I put away my sketchbook the moment the teacher cleared her throat. Studying was something that got my mind off the Spirit World when I needed the escape—which was almost all the time. Therefore, I always paid strict attention during class, not letting anything cloud my concentration. This included my sketches, which meant that I couldn't touch any of my supplies during class even if I suddenly saw something outside that gave me an idea for an amazing drawing. It was a rule I had established for myself.

Glancing at Ryuuzaki, I saw that he was shaking his head at himself, a frown on his face. Toshiro turned to glance at his friend sadly and then turned to me. I quickly looked away, getting out my notes at focusing on the teacher.

The rest of my morning classes passed like the first, the only difference being the absence of a note from Ryuuzaki. When the lunch bell rang, I fished my lunch box out of my backpack, staring out the window absentmindedly. I was glad I sat near the window—it partially shielded me from the hell that had broken loose on my right side.

As I examined my dragon again, I heard Ryuuzaki call my name from the front of the room. I sighed, not bothering to look up, and felt the room around me. The air whizzed behind me and I expertly grabbed the object—a water bottle, from the feel of it—with my right hand. I chucked it at the direction from which I had heard Ryuuzaki's voice, and my mouth pulled up at the ends when I heard him groan, "Ouch."

I could feel the gazes of my classmates burning holes on my back, but I didn't look up. I was glad that "the gazes were burning holes on my back" was only an expression because had it been true, I would be a block of human holey cheese by now. This had been happening every single day of the past seven years, and I had grown used to it. Ryuuzaki would call my name and one of his henchmen would chuck something at me. I had gotten hit by whatever it was they decided to throw quite a few times before I learned to use my senses to help me. I had become quite an expert at this as my senses became keener. Though they saw this performance everyday, my classmates were always creeped out by how I always hit Ryuuzaki squarely on the head.

A girl walked in with her arm around some "hot" guy, and her friends squealed. This broke the uncomfortable and awkward silence that had been hanging in the air, and chaos broke out again. I didn't look up when someone came to stand next to me.

When the person covered my sketch with a hand, however, I looked up to glare at them. I looked back down and tore the hand away from my drawing when I saw that it was only Ryuuzaki towering over me, a stupid grin on his face. The girls in front of me giggled, trying to get his attention, but Ryuuzaki didn't look at them. His eyes were on me, burning a hole in the back of my head.

"What do you want, Ryuuzaki?" I growled when he didn't leave. I didn't like drawing with someone watching me. It put pressure on me instead of helping me get rid of the stress.

He pulled back the chair next to me and rested his head on his hands, staring at me. "Didn't I ask you to call me Ryuu?"

With a sigh, I looked up. "Fine, Ryuu, what do you want from me?"

His smile widened, showing all of his snow-white teeth. His chocolate brown eyes shone as he ran a hand through his messy black hair. "I just wanted to come talk to you. You seem a bit lonely, sitting all alone here with your sketchbook."

I blinked. Why was he being so nice? As I wracked my brain for a reason why he would be doing anything other than teasing me, I saw Toshiro give him a thumbs up. I frowned. What the heck was going on?

"Look, Chihiro," Ryuu started, "I know that I've been a huge jerk to you since the moment you set foot on this school, but I did that for a reason."

I rubbed my temples with a sigh. "Ryuu, I'm really exhausted right now. Can you please either tell me what you came here to say, or go away?"

His brows knitted together. "Are you okay, Chihiro? You look a bit feverish." His warm, soft hand landed on my forehead, feeling the temperature. My body automatically stiffened.

He pulled away before I got over my shock and slapped him. "You're a bit warm. Do you need to go to the nurse?" he asked, concern coloring his tone.

I stared at him, confused. Was this really the boy who had been tormenting me for the past seven years? He was so caring and gentle right now. I snorted to myself mentally at that thought. Ryuuzaki, gentle? I might as well be thinking the world was square.

"Chihiro?" he prodded anxiously.

I scowled at him. "Ryuu, I'm a bit feverish. So what? It won't kill me, so stop worrying like some overprotective dad or something. Now, why are you here?"

He gulped. Glancing at Toshiro, he gulped again. "Don't freak out, okay?" Seeing my cautious nod, he continued quickly, "I've liked you since the day you transferred here, Chihiro. You're beautiful, kind, mysterious, talented, smart, and nothing like any of the other girls I've seen. You're independent, you can kick anyone's ass at everything, and you're so strong—mentally and physically."

With wide eyes, I stared at him wordlessly until he started fidgeting under my gaze. "But—but why would you be so mean to me if you liked me?" I stuttered, not over the shock yet.

He grinned sheepishly. "Ten-year-old boys can't express their feelings properly. They tease the girls they like. And when I started maturing, I was afraid that if I stopped teasing you on a daily basis, you would notice something. It was a bit cowardly, but I wasn't ready to tell you yet. I've been trying to tell you for a few months now, but I kept chickening out," he explained, not meeting my eyes. A blush colored his cheeks, and I found myself thinking it made him look cute.

My eyes widened again as I mentally slapped myself. What was I thinking? I couldn't like some ordinary human boy. I was a torn, destroyed, and tattered remnant of my former self who was waiting for her spirit friends to come rescue her from her own world. I couldn't fall for a human—ever.

"What are you saying? Are you asking me out?" I asked when I regained my voice.

He looked up, hopeful. "Y-yes."

I bit my lower lip. I couldn't deny the fact that he looked absolutely adorable right now, looking at me with those hopeful, chocolate brown eyes. Maybe it was because he had admitted that he had feelings for me, but I could suddenly remember what a good person Ryuu was—if you could look past his jokes and pranks. He never stepped out of line by harming someone too much—physically or mentally. He wasn't the best student, but he wasn't one of those gangsters that hung out around school, stealing money from little kids walking home and smoking. I had actually seen him help a crying girl find her mother a few years back. But I had "forgotten" about it because he had teased me about a drawing I had been working on for weeks in school that day.

Ryuu stood up, startling me. His lips were bearing a smile, but his eyes showed rejection and disappointment. "I'm sorry. Forget I said anything, and we can go back to hating each other's guts."

He turned to leave, but I reached out to grab his hand. He looked down at our intertwined hands with a surprised expression, and looked at me.

I took a deep breath and looked up. "It's not going to work out, Ryuu. I—I have a complicated past, trust issues, and some secrets no one in this world knows about but me," I spoke in a hushed tone, not wanting anyone else to hear me admit I had some serious problems.

Ryuu stared back at me without a smile—for once—understanding how utterly serious and honest I was being. I could tell that he was grateful that I had told him why and he didn't seem surprised. He nodded.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I sort of guessed as much. Again, don't take this the wrong way and kick my ass, because I know you can, but you aren't exactly the most normal girl in this school." Though I kept my neutral expression, his eyes showed panic as he raised his arms in surrender and added hastily, "But I like that about you. I don't want some boring, normal girl."

I smiled as genuinely as a broken person could. Still staring into his eyes—this was the longest eye contact I had ever kept with a person in years—I made a snap decision.

"I have no idea how this is going to work out, but I think we could give it a try," I heard myself say.

The smile that lit up his face made my heart twitch. It was finally feeling something other than pain and more pain, and it was surprised, but pleased. I blushed when he gave my hand a squeeze. Maybe I had been burying my feelings too much to keep the majority of the pain away. I actually liked Ryuu, something I had never realized before.

Ryu let go after one last squeeze as the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. I put away my sketchbook in a daze, wondering if I had imagined me getting asked out by Ryuu. But, glancing at Ryuu, I saw that he was still wearing that goofy smile, and I knew the crazy side of my brain—which dominated most of my brain—hadn't made this up.

When the final bell rang, I gathered up my things quickly, meaning to dash out the door like I usually did. However, I was blocked by a certain black-haired classmate with a fairly muscular chest. I looked up at his face, blushing.

Ryuu raised an eyebrow. "We haven't even been on our first date, and you're already checking out my muscles? Slow down there, Chihiro. I'm not sure if you're ready for me—" he flexed his muscles, winking at me, "—yet."

I blushed again, cursing myself for being unable to maintain my stoic and unemotional face. Why was I blushing so much today? I blamed Ryuu and his muscles as I glared up at him. I had never noticed how tall he was—I had to look up to glare at him even though I was five feet five inches tall.

"I am not checking you out. Why would I be doing that? I don't know what I was thinking when I agreed to go out with you!" I snapped, but instantly regretted my words when I saw his face fall.

"Oh. I just—"

"No! I'm sorry," I apologized, feeling terrible. "I just haven't had many conversations lately, so my mouth is just babbling on about things I don't mean to say. I didn't mean that."

He smiled, relieved. "I've noticed. You usually never talk. But I like your voice."

"You've heard me talk before. When I'm answering questions during class—"

He shook his head. "No, I meant I've never heard you talk in the last five, six years about something other than what the Greeks did in 400 B.C. or something."

I put on my mask, the one I used to hide away my true self—facial expressions and all. I forced the red painted lips of the woman's face lift in a smile. "Well, anyway, when do you want to pick me up today?" I asked brightly.

He narrowed his eyes, seeing straight through my happy façade. I wasn't surprised—he had been in my class every single year since I had transferred to this school. "I'll pick you up at seven. Sound good?"

"Sure," I said as I dug around my backpack for a pen and a piece of paper. Because I couldn't find any paper, I settled for his hand. "My number and address," I explained as I scribbled on his hand.

"Thanks. So see you at seven?"

"Yep. Bye!" I waved, rushing out of the door.

I could see girls pointing at me in the hall. Though they tried to whisper, I could still hear a few words like "Ryuu," "date," and "freak." I masked what little emotions I felt from the gossip about me as I walked back home. Being the mute, athletic, freaky, mysterious, talented genius for the last five to six years had made me practically immune to gossip.

When I walked past the little houses and the fox, I saw that the food was gone. I frowned in confusion and looked around, but not even a crumb of the senbei I had spent hours on was left.

That's weird, I thought, looking around in vain for the senbei I had carefully baked and placed into the houses this morning. I felt angry at first at whatever animal must have taken the food, but I realized animals had to fend themselves and their family, and I couldn't be upset with them for doing their best to survive in their always-changing homes.

As I started walking home again, this time hearing the comforting noise of the leaves crunching under my feet, I saw the fox's eyes glint again. Shocked, I stared at the fox, but didn't see anything out of the ordinary. I told myself that my eyes must be playing tricks on me, but I wasn't fully convinced.

I walked home, feeling a pair of eyes following me.

(1) I don't cut myself. I did some research on the Internet.

(2) Just in case you were wondering why Chihiro is suddenly a half-dead creature . . . It's all due to longing for the Spirit World and its inhabitants. How did Chihiro become so attached to the Spirit World in such a short time? You'll find out later!

(3) And I'm not sure what Japanese schools are like, so I got the information from the Internet, too, but I didn't have time to do too much research. I made the school year the same as our (America's) school year (beginning in September and ending in June) unlike the real Japanese school year (beginning in April and ending in March) because it's easier for me to write that way.

(4) Please tell me what you thought!