I'm sorry if I anger any of you. I'm working on an HG fic, a YGO fic, and this fic. So... A fic about children killing each other, a fic about adults playing children's card games, and a fic about the Spirit world.

I'm multifandomal.

So... yes. Here.

Disclaimer: OWN SPIRITED AWAY, I DO NOT. Own those OCs, I do. OWN ANYTHING ELSE, I DO NOT!

*Listening to Treason by Kutless... jerking head back and forth like a nerd.*

I remembered barely being able to hear the rain when it fell over the roof of my home. If it had been just a small, light shower, it would pass by without my knowledge at all. I couldn't imagine how I hadn't ever heard the gentle patter. Now, sitting completely alone in the great, white room, I was sure it would have sounded magnificently loud. The silence, the white blankness... it consumed everything. The smells of soap and flowers had gone long ago to leave me with absolutely nothing except what I could have sworn was the disconcerting smell of infection.

I didn't know how long it had been. Maybe a day– I'd fallen asleep once, so I was hoping that maybe it was mid-afternoon, though I couldn't tell for sure. The room never dimmed with the setting of the sun. It was lit brightly, like a hospital's hallway, every hour of every day, as far as I'd seen. It felt like I was in a psych-ward, where they suspended all of your senses in order to calm your mind.

It was making me crazy.

That wasn't my only concern, though. The bandages around my torso were starting to peel, and they felt heavy, soaked through with blood. The bandages on the smaller scratches and tears were also looking sopped.

They hurt, too. throbbing with every small movement I made.

Did the spirits know of infection? Did they understand that if they didn't pay me attention, I would end up a dead human body in their bathhouse?

Screw them. They could carry me out a rotting corpse. Part of me was wondering if that was why they hadn't let Haku kill me. Were they out of disposal options or something?

None of it made sense, and it hurt to think about any of it.

()()()()()()()

It was several hours before a small serving girl showed up, opening the door and waking up my senses.

For once, there was color within my sight. She was wearing a bright green kimono and her fire-red hair was done up in sparkling blue ribbons. Her eyes held the same ferocity of color, a bright violet. Her skin was the color of porcelain. Sound came to my ears– the noises of the bathhouse beyond the door coursed through my little room. Smell wafted gently toward me– the faint aroma of the kitchen and that of the rice balls on the plate in her hands...

But then she set the plate on the ground, barely looked at me sideways, and left, closing the door gently behind her and shutting off my connection to the world.

I began by eating the rice balls slowly, but started downing them faster as I found my hunger, ignoring the constant screaming in the lacerations across my body as I did so. There were plenty to serve as a meal, more. Enough for the entire day. I stopped eating once approximately one third of the plate's bounty was gone, deciding that spreading out my rations would make things a little more comfortable.

Having no concept of time, I wasn't sure when to eat next.

So I didn't. Not until I was starving. I could store food reserves if I hid the meal every time the girl came with more. Since I was only assuming she'd come at least once a day, I would be careful.

And maybe I'd lose weight. Look a little more like the bitch who put me here.

()()()()()()()

The second time the door opened, it was a boy who entered. He was my age. Or he appeared that way, at least. He wore thin glasses with a silver rim that shown next to the dark color of his chocolate hair. The silver made his brown eyes seem dull and pale in comparison. In his hands, he held a small toothpaste tube and several long, white ribbons of cloth.

Medicine. Bandages.

So maybe I would live. If I didn't already have an infection.

For a few seconds he stood there staring at me expectantly, until I finally realized what he as waiting for. Smirking at him, I lifted my shirt to show my stomach. I could feel the tug when I moved my arms. The pain extended over my chest.

Why had they sent a boy?

I sighed and brought the robe painfully over my head, the motion bringing a small cry out of me as I moved my arms so high. Somehow the Lord had blessed me with no reaching scars to keep me from wearing the white bra and underwear that someone had dressed me in.

The boy was silent as he reached out to unwrap my old bandages. His touch was gentle, careful and practiced– I barely felt him, and if I did it felt more like the brush of butterfly wings than the solid touch of fingers. When the bandages were gone, I held my breath and looked down on myself, seeing the torn flesh for the first time.

There were furious, slash-like wounds down my belly, ribboning from just below my bra-line to my hip, creating three diagonal streaks that reached parallel to each other across my body. When he took off the bandages over my thigh, I saw huge piercings in the flesh. Talon marks. The bandages over my arms revealed teeth marks the size of knives, similar in size to the grazings down my neck and over my right shoulder.

The boy applied a cool-feeling medicine to the torn skin on my front and back first, drawing from me a sigh of alleviation. Each new application of the medicine put out the fire in my injuries. I could faintly remember slamming into the wood of the bridge, which must have splintered and cut into the skin of my back. The dragon's talons had torn my body, and something hit my head... but past that, I couldn't remember exactly what had happened. I could vaguely picture the scenario, though. His claws reaching out and slicing through my arms as he pressed me against the bridge. The talons of one foot screaming down my belly, the talons of the other finding purchase in my leg. His teeth reaching down to finish me, but merely sliding down my skin before being stopped by... something. Someone.

When the lacerations and piercings had been cooled with the strange medicine, the boy wrapped them with fresh bandaging. Finally, after the most pressing injuries had been handled, he unwrapped my head.

He didn't apply the medicine to the scrapes on my forehead or under my eye, but instead padded them down with a moist sponge. I wasn't sure what was on the sponge, but it didn't smell like water and was a lot colder than the medicine. It smelled more like berries than alcohol.

All he did then was dry away the droplets left on my forehead and under my eye. He didn't add any cloth; deciding, apparently, that they didn't need it. He acted even more gentle over my face, eyes riveted on the task at hand, fingers still barely touching at the scrapes.

He didn't look at me once. Not my uncovered body, nor to meet my gaze. Not until I had put the white robes back on did he catch my eye. He didn't avoid me in an embarrassed manner, or watch me in a desirous one. He simply acted businesslike, unperturbed.

I had wanted to ask him why they'd sent a man to do this job, but it was obvious. I hadn't felt any pain at all under his care.

"Thank you," I said, quietly.

To my surprise, he actually responded to me. "Please accept my apologies."

"What?" I sputtered, bewildered.

"For Serendipity," he said, slowly. "It's only because she wishes she were you."

I wasn't quite sure what to say to him, now that I knew he would talk. I was stuck between wanting to scream and blame it all on him, and wanting to cry in his arms and tell him everything that had happened. I wanted to go home. To leave this place in which I wasn't wanted. I felt like a child for thinking it, but if no one wanted me here, did I have a reason to want to stay?

"Why didn't the other girl, the one with the food, say anything?" I asked, trying to focus on something else.

"Her job is much quicker than mine," he said, softly. His voice was a comfort in itself. He didn't seemed concerned about anything at all, and he never spoke above a low murmur. The sound of his voice made me feel calmer. Maybe that was part of why he was so good at healing. "I could take any amount of time in the world. They don't know much about what I do."

"Why are you staying to talk?" I inquired, hoping the question would urge him to do just that.

"I know what it's like to be locked in this room for days."

"She did it to you, too?"

"No," he said, his voice lowering, even though the room was soundproof. "I–"

A harsh knocking suddenly became the door, startling me. When I turned reflexively, jerking my neck, something split and the fire was back again. I low moan escaped my throat. The boy turned to wince with me when he heard.

Before he could do anything to wash away the pain as he had before, the loud rapping proceeded, drawing him up to his feet to open the door.

"Yes?" he answered. His voice was cold. From my place on the ground, I noticed how tall and thin he was. He was like me, more like a wire than anything else. The only difference was that he was taller. Much taller.

"She asks why the bandages are taking so much time," replied a voice, devoid of emotion.

"The patient is struggling, so it's difficult to apply the medicine correctly." He lied so smoothly, I nearly believed him. "I'll be done in a minute." He shut the door on the older man, and turned to face me again.

"Don't jump like that again," he said, cautiously. "Here."

He moved forward and lifted my shirt himself, this time only away from the back of my neck, seeming to know exactly where the pain had come from. He slid a hand over the burning section of skin on my neck, and gently pressed down over and under the stretched cut from where the pain emanated.

The relief was immediate. "How did you-"

"As I said," he whispered, moving his hand back away. "I just know what it's like."

He stood and moved to the door. Before he left, he said quietly, without turning, "I will come for the care of your health at five in the afternoon every day; Sayuri comes at 9 every morning with your food."

When he shut the door behind him, I realized how right he must have been. He really did know what it was like, to understand that my complete unawareness of time was one of the things that was maddening me most.

How was it that he knew these things? How could he pinpoint where the pain came from just by seeing my motion? How did he know what I wanted to hear?

He couldn't have been much older than me. He couldn't be a real doctor-

"I just know what it's like."

I hadn't even asked his name.

"I know that we hate her, Ouji, but we have to let her live."

I scowled, staring at the human girl's door from where I sat on the ground across the hall next to Serendipity. "Why?" I ground out through clenched teeth.

Serendipity rested a small hand on my shoulder, and I fought back my tension.

"I need her alive," she said, quietly. "For as long as possible..."

"She's a human," I said, gently. "We'll just keep getting older after she's been long dead."

"I know..." Serendipity whispered. A tear pooled in her eye and slid down her cheek. I snatched out a hand to catch it before it could fall from her chin, lifting the droplet up and away from her face. I smoothed its track from under her eye with my other thumb, gently following the path it made on her skin.

"I don't understand," I said, trying to get her to look at me. "What could you possibly use–"

"Serendipity, I'm finished, in case you wanted to know," came a low voice that seemed used to whispering.

"Thank you, Jun," she said without standing or looking up, still red around the eyes. The man she spoke to appeared around the same age as Serendipity, though I didn't think I'd seen him before. "Did she really–"

"Yes, she's distressed," he said flatly, but his eyes had wandered to meet mine. He held them there, gaze dark. "She should be feeling better tomorrow."

"Well, continue to see her just as well." Serendipity finally looked up when she stood to approach him, crossing her arms. She was much shorter than he was, her head coming up to maybe his neck. "Be a hero. That's all you can do, isn't it? Make her feel like she could be happy."

"Of course," he murmured, "Anything for you, sister."

More will come. Sorry that this one wasn't as "HOLY CRAP- THE DRAGON" as the other one, but you needed to meet some people. Review if you liked it, don't if you didn't, do if you didn't, don't if your busy. I don't know.

And thank you for pressuring my speed. It helps, you know. :)

Listening to "Forever" by Red, now. Since I was listening to music while doing the final edits... I have to edit it again.

*Half an hour later*

FINAL CHECK COMPLETE! Tell me if I missed anything... in fact, yell at me if I did.

~Susu.