Here a present you with a new chapter! This is the LAST chapter of tying up the loose ends in characterization with Chihiro and Haku and their relationship. Next chapter...DUNDUNDUN!
Chihiro's POV:
"I want you to fight me seriously."
Three weeks had passed.
Whatever time I had spent on recuperating, I tried my best to make up. Naturally, passed time was still passed time. Every now and then, the frustrations would rush back. I felt like I was wringing a dry towel for that one drop of moisture. But I got over it, like the many things that I had neither control or influence over. I contented myself starting the day by the sea and ending it by the sea, rising at dawn and training well into afternoon. For once, the pickings of my life settled into a pattern, and I cherished that luxury while it still lasted.
"I don't want you to hold back." Haku didn't know the full extent of my appreciation. I could never frame it in words. He revealed all the little kinks in my form while sparring at the same time. He never lost his patience, no matter how long it took for me to master a new technique. He was always there for me—if I fell, I fell into his arms rather than into the sand. If my human body started to betray me, he would modify his attacks to guide.
He was too good.
"I want you to forget that I am human. I want you to forget that I am Chihiro." Sometimes after training, I would head back to the bathhouse and draw myself a bath. No fancy water, no Yunas, just one that I could die in for a while without being reminded of the big, bad battle that was looming over all my waking moments...and non-waking moments.
"Can you do that for me?"
I could no longer sleep straight through the night without a nightmare of some sort causing me to wake. In the process, I'd wake Haku, who never seemed to mind the disturbance. He selflessly constructed a routine: Comfort Chihiro then rock Chihiro back to sleep.
"Can you fight me as an equal?"
Haku passed a hand over his eyes. "That's not…wise."
"Please?" My plea hung the air between us, not budging even as the rising tide brought the breeze to the shore.
Finally, he sighed. "Chihiro, I'm not perfect. Even I can't guarantee I won't cross the line during a battle if I let go of control." In a blur of movement, his black katana whipped from his side. A poof of sand sprayed into the air, resembling a mushroom cloud after a nuclear explosion.
When the sand cleared, I could not find the sword.
He moved his hand over a spot on the sand, a white glow emitting from his palm. "Even the calmest spirit will lose rational thought when it comes to blood-spill."
Like Daichi… I watched silently as a mound began to rise. At last, the top of the hilt became visible against the speckled gray.
He was on an entirely different level.
"In a position like that, I won't be able to predict my actions, nor prevent the animal residing within me from breaking loose," he said, voice harsh. "We were built for battle, given the speed to shred and strangle our enemies before they can realize what is happening."
We...he meant dragons.
"In our long history of existence, we haven't been known as...the nicest of creatures." He held my eyes in his. "Do you understand?"
Yes, yes, I do understand! But… I nodded mutely, and he visibly relaxed. "But…" I took a deep breath, and his stature tensed again. "I'm willing to take the risk. Remember what we promised each other?" Realizing that my voice was beginning to rise, I ducked my head. "Ever since you brought me back here, it's been a game of trust." My words, if taken alone, sounded bitter. I rushed to amend myself. "It brings me all comfort I need—trusting you, I mean. I don't mind playing this game—"
"A dangerous game."
"A dangerous game of trust," I conceded. "But when hasn't trust been dangerous? It relies on the understanding and connection between two people, those links so frail that they can hardly be called reliable."
I could tell that he wanted to say something, but was holding himself back.
"But where would we be without it?" I challenged. "Everything good thing has a bad counterpart, every light a dark, every conscience a demon. Everything is double-sided. So what if I choose light over dark—that doesn't mean that seeing the dark emerge from time to time will weaken my will to trust."
Instead of being embarrassed by my speech, I felt new sort of boldness warm me from within. When he still didn't speak, I grasped hold of the opportunity.
"I'm not as breakable it might appear. And while, yes, I do value my safety, I also value our friendship—we will always be friends. I would like to be able to fight you as an equal. On that day, side by side, as an equal and a friend..."
His face was unreadable. At last, and grimly, he dragged his sword through the sand until it rose to meet his eyes.
"The words leave your mouth so kindly, Chihiro—they almost make me believe…" With a sharp rustle, the katana switched into place, the sharp side angled in preparation.
"…that one can reverse the consequences once they have fallen." I took it as my cue to take preparation stance, too.
Emerald eyes narrowed. "I'll keep my word. To trust your judgment." A breath left his lithe body. "But I warned you."
A blur, a flash, a deceivingly majestic display of sand.
And then it was too late to turn back.
Cold from the water seeped past the flesh and into the bone of my legs.
I yanked my body to the side, narrowly missing the forceful spray of foam, then yelped when I saw a flash of black steel that had appeared in the space of time. The sand beneath my feet give way as the tide pulled back. I brought my sword up to my brow with both hands, barely fending off a lighting fast blow.
A surge of irritation filled my senses. I was in a serious position of disadvantage and I could find no way out of it. I could not possibly expect to ward off both the water and the sword attacks without falling folly to one in the long run. I slashed my sword through the water with all the strenght I could summon. Forced by the sheer momentum, a curtain leapt from where my blade connected with the element. Having created a makeshift and insubstantial diversion, I risked turning my back and ran blindly towards the shore.
I hardly covered half a dozen yards when I sensed danger from behind. I whirled around, searching for stable footing while swinging my sword in a defensive one-eighty arc. Too late did I realize that I had fallen headfirst into a trap. He had been waiting for this move of mine, a chink in my armor that gaped even larger with that one swing.
A searing pain lanced through my stomach. I gasped, bending over like a blade of grass in the wind.
It was perfect. He knew that if I swung, it would be impossible for me to change the direction. At the end of the swing, I could not defend myself. A combination of risk, confidence, and hard-wired skill. He only could have attacked in that split second of time. Lunge early, and I would have caught him mid-swing. Lunge late and I would have altered the course of the blade.
I realized that I had pressed my free hand against my stomach and removed it. A voice in my head shrieked to keep the hand in place or else I would die. It was a scratch, I told myself, and did not deserve to be personified into anything more than a scratch. But those words having been said, I tasted in mouth something else.
Blood. Sweet and coppery.
The shock was temporary, for an instant later we were back dancing to the notes of battle. Yet there was this troubled feeling I could not shake off, slithering in my gut. It overpowered the heat from my wound.
No matter how many times I got whacked by the katana, I had never suffered an injury that would cause blood from the mouth. Bruises, as plentiful as they were, never managed to inflict critical damage. Haku's magic had always been an impenetrable essence, like the structure of his very being. It kept the blade dull during training. A handy trick, otherwise I would have been sliced into ribbons long ago.
Something was wrong.
A sharp, squealing sound made me wince. It was coming from my sword—like a child on a slide, his katana flew down the edge of the dragon scale blade. Rainbow sparks ignited from the friction. We locked at the hilt.
How long we stayed like that, I don't know. I was far more concerned over the fact that I was rapidly exhausting. At this rate, I wouldn't able to make it out of the sea and onto dry land.
An idea came over my mind when I saw that we were standing quite close. Before either of us could react, I brought one leg up to my chest and kicked him in shoulder. How had I gotten reduced to hand-to-hand-combat? I never got to answer that question of mine. The burn in my lower torso, now ten times worse, nearly incapacitated me. Hope kept me going. The blow had efficiently offered no choice to Haku but to back off, and I clutched onto the moment, sucking in large mouthfuls of air like a deranged goldfish.
The nerves in my arms, pushed to the limit and crawling to catch up, screamed from hypersensitivity. Warmth ran down my wrist. I held it up to eye-level and ogled at the cut running down the entire length of my forearm. Clumsiness? Had I managed (God forbid) to hurt myself while executing that kick?
Dread oozed down my spine, registering slowly like a bad prank.
A white and black line zigzagging in my direction cut my thoughts short. The precious mouthfuls of oxygen were now something of the past as we sparred more furiously than before. I reached into my stamina reservoir that I usually saved for the last stretch of a race and drew out what I could with the energy I had left.
And that was when I saw it: The glinting, sharpened-to-perfection edge of his katana, not a trace of magical distortion present.
So, I wasn't to blame for the cut. He was fighting me seriously all right.
We stood in front of the elevator in silence.
I cast a side-long glance at Haku to see his face a mask of perfectly controlled emotions. "Is there something wrong?" I punched the "up" button and waited for the elevator to arrive.
He shook his head.
"Okay."
The doors opened with a small ping and I stepped into the red-papered compartment. After he followed in suit, I pulled down the lever. The hum of the pulleys began to fill the space.
I tried again. "Look, if there's that's bothering you, you should speak up."
His reply was curt. "Nothing's the matter."
"Yes there is." I felt childish in comparison as I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall.
He didn't say anything for the rest of the ride. When the doors opened on the top floor he immediately stepped out and began walking back to his office, gait brisk.
I ran a few steps to catch up "Haku—"
I felt myself lose balance and trip over my own two feet. Blood pounded thickly in my ears as the world pitched forward. I braced myself for the impact.
Instead, I heard his voice in my ear and felt his hands grab mine before I could salute ground. "Are you okay?"
Carefully, I stood up while holding onto his arm as little as I could for support. "Y-yes, I'm fine."
Haku regarded me for a second, an unnamed emotion pressed beneath a thin layer in his eyes.
I readied myself. He was going to do it again…he was going to place all the blame on himself and shoulder the whole load without anyone's help, beat himself up over something that wasn't all his fault.
I lost control.
You're hurt because of me.
Your safety is all that matters.
I tried to think up various comebacks to all the things that he could say. The silence stretched for what seemed like an eternity.
At last, he got down on one knee.
"Didn't I promise you a piggy back ride before?" He arched a brow as I gaped.
"Oh—I don't think—you're wounded…" I bit my lip.
He rolled his eyes. "And you are not?"
After some mumbling, I gingerly placed my arms around his neck. He arranged my legs and made sure I had a secure holding. A spasm ripped through my stomach as he then stood up. I squeezed my eyes shut to repel the discomfort.
"Does it hurt?" His voice sounded so raw and…sorrowful that I had to smile while allowing myself to pat him on the shoulder.
"Why don't you tell me what's wrong?"
"How about you answer my question."
"I asked first," I growled.
He growled more convincingly, the low sound humming against my wrists that hung by his throat. It put mine to shame.
Using healing potion to treat the wound went out the window.
The good thing? Well, the spell on his katana hadn't worn off at that point in the battle, so none of my entrails were hanging out. I wasn't even bleeding.
The bad thing? I decided I would rather be bleeding, bleeding a whole puddle on the ground. Blood…I had seen, gotten used to, be around enough to not freak out. Blood…at least I could see exactly what happened.
Internal bleeding…not so much.
I took one look at myself in the mirror and blanched. Utterly. All color in my cheeks leeched away as I tried to make myself to touch the bruise.
Bruise…I couldn't think of another way to put it. It was just one gargantuan bruise the color of aged wine spanning from rib to rib, spreading as I watched. The closer to the center, the darker that color became until it was a deep, rich mauve. A color Yubaba would have considered for her tapestry.
I needed to sit down. The soft ribbing of bamboo matting pressed into my legs like a comforting hand.
Alerted by my silence, Haku came over. "Let me have a look."
For once I didn't argue and allowed him view of injury. His jaw hardened the moment he saw. I tentatively poked the bruise with a finger, grimacing at the touch.
"Don't," he ordered, pinning my hand down on the ground.
Haku was all business. He immediately placed a cool hand on my stomach, channeling white magic. A strange, but not unpleasant sensation tingled across my skin and beneath. A few minutes later, all the pain vanished.
I could literally feel the relief flowing off him. "There." He smiled.
I didn't take the moment to rejoice my recovery. "You're out of breath!"
"It's nothing." He cradled the side of his head in his hand, long, pale fingers lacing over one eye. "I reckon I used more magic than necessary."
"Why on earth would you do that?"
He reached for my arm. "I have a limited understanding of human organs, and since you were internally bleeding, I was cautious with my approach."
I snatched my arm away. "Oh no you don't." I waved it in front of his face. "It's the same as a paper cut, see?"
He frowned. "You won't let me heal it."
A "hmmph" came from my throat. "Of course not. Why exhaust yourself over something that will heal on its own?" I held my hand out. As if reading my thoughts, Haku relented, reluctant. He reached into the fold of his shirt and brought out a strip of clean linen. I accepted it and started to wrap it around my arm. For some time, the only sound came from the dry linen shaping against my skin.
"Thank you." I held one end between my teeth so I could tie it tightly. "For sparring with me." I spoke around obstruction in my mouth.
He gave a little nod. I sighed, still feeling uneasy.
"Haku, I'm sorry if I said anything offensive. You can tell me if I did—" He covered my mouth loosely with a hand, shaking his head.
The smell of rainwater was intoxicating. I breathed through my mouth, even when he removed his hand, in fears of loosing my head to that scent. I watched dazedly, lost for words, as he took both ends of the cloth from my fumbling fingers and tied the knot for me. He worked efficiently and gracefully, looping the cloth in, out, in. A lock of charcoal-green hair swung out from behind his ear as he leaned forward to make sure that the wound was completely bound. Passing inspection, he tore the extra length off with his teeth.
I held out my hand expectantly.
Startled, or as close as those green eyes could look startled, Haku peered at me for a few seconds. I felt a blush from my ears burn dangerously close to my cheeks.
"Here." Feeling assertive, I reached over and took the cloth from his hold. "Let me do it."
The surprise left so quickly from his features that I couldn't have been sure that it was there in the first place. I silently urged my gratitude to be heard by Haku, who, as if without a care in the world, good-naturedly accepted my offer. I wasn't sure I could have persuaded him to let me if he had refused, since I was already feeling flustered as it was.
He untied all the necessary strings and shed his white gi. The dark blue undergarment constrasted against his pale complexion, bringing out the moss reflections in his hair.
I realized I was cutting off all the circulation in my right hand and loosened my deathgrip on the linen. I cleared my throat to open up the airways once more and leaned forward a bit.
I quickly found the one and only injury that had managed to squeeze itself through his defensive system by the five inch tear wrapping from the slope of the trapezius to the beginning of the clavicle. It wasn't too deep, the blood already beginning to cede. Some tiny amusement at the fact that his blood didn't clot tugged the corner of my lip up in a half smile. My hand felt the ground in search of the glass bottle.
"It's all right," Haku murmured.
I hesistated. Haku was a fast healer, so it was a silly idea in the first place. Eventually, I settled on just cleaning out the cut. I dabbed at it with linen, clearing away the last remains of blood.
My awareness of the room ebbed away. I tried my best to kept my hand gentle—I didn't want to turn out as more of a burden than of use if I reopened the cut, which was healing fine without my care. In my concentration, I bent my head closer. The fringe of the hairs too short to tie in a ponytail brushed his collar.
"There." I whispered when I fnished, using the same word that he had used after tending to me. "We're equals." I smiled.
Out of nowhere, an image flickered like a dying moving picture in my mind. It was my mother, squatting on the bathroom floor as she placed a band-aid on my knee over scrape number 101.
There. All better! She then would kiss the "boo-boo", cap the disinfectant, and stand up, holding out a hand to me. Every time. For boo-boo 101, 201, 301…
Before the rational side of me could flip into panic mode, I lowered my head. Brushed a fleeting kiss over what remained of the cut.
I pretty sure it was then that I held my breath, doing nothing of benefit for the high flush on my face and flooding down my neck. He stiffened upon reflex.
Then, slowly, very slowly, I remembered that it was okay, and only natural, for me to breath. I kept on breathing, even when I suddenly felt his arms go around me.
So quiet were his words that I thought I had heard wrong.
"I'm sorry."
It wasn't what I would call instinct, like a baby duck knowing that water was safe and meant for swimming. Nor was it intuition. Rather it was heart.
His fingers weaved through my hair. "I'm so sorry."
A matter of the heart that I knew in that moment I was there for Haku, to comfort Haku. I slowly raised my hands and began combing through those perfect locks, trying to untangle whatever frustrations that he might always keep from me, never let me know. A matter of the heart that I—perhaps for the first time—truly was coming to accept this fact. It no longer gnawed at me as much. I no longer wanted to know why...why Haku always wanted to shield me.
Perhaps, as I held him against me, I could feel by instinct. Because he had done the impossible, brought himself stop protecting me—and because I had used my own strenght to survive, the last gap was finally closing. I was one step closer.
Though Haku relaxed his embrace, he did not let go. "Sorry. And thank you."
A large portion of the weight evaporated from my shoulders. For the first time in weeks, I felt confident. The battle would come when it came, and Haku and I would fight side by side as equals.
New fan art for Spirited Away! Link is on my profile, please check it out ^.^ Thank you for reading...it's really late and my brain isn't functioning, but thank you thank you thank you. Please review! 2-3 more chapters to go! Sorry if I missed typos!