((As with the previous, I do not claim to own Spirited Away in any sense. And all the other stuff.))
As No-Face ran, he could recall why he was hated so. He could not blame them. He had eaten three of their own, and nearly destroyed the bathhouse. He had remembered that he had eaten someone. But he knew not who, nor how many. He had not remembered the damage, not until now. And now that the truth had been uncovered, he knew he could never return there.
No-Face reached the river, and stared across it. It was too deep for him to cross, and there were too many others on the boat who might try to prevent him from leaving. He hid under a ridge, and waited, invisible, for the dawn.
He did not sleep, as he never had. But through the night, he thought, and remembered. He thought of many things, and two thoughts lingered with him for the whole of his waiting time. What had happened to his name? He couldn't remember it, no matter how hard he tried. Was he like Chihiro, who's name had been taken? No, he knew that wasn't so. He had forgotten it, simple as that.
The other thought was of his mask. Where had it come from? He had the slightest notion that it had to do with what he was now. At one point he guessed had been like a normal spirit, but the mask had changed him. But he loved the mask. It would never cause him any harm.
The sun rose slowly over the mountains, and No-Face looked around. The river had gone. It was but a mere stream now, with what was left of the water weaving its way around gray stones. His mask smiled, as he began to cross it. The sky was clear, and birds sang high, trilling songs that at times, made his ears ache. But it was nice. He felt alive again.
The apparition walked in the slow, lilting way that he often did, admiring all that surrounded him. It was very different here, and he could feel it. Life surrounded him in so many different shapes, he knew that he would never see it all in a day. He feared, however, that when night fell, they would be searching for him. So he looked for a place to stay.
A small shack caught the spirit's attention. He wavered slightly, debating on weather he wanted to go there or not. He did not really want to stay anywhere, but he knew he needed to. He drifted over, and looked around. There was no one in sight, so he went into the house. It was very quiet, and No-Face felt nervous. The inside of the shack was dusty. It did not look like anyone had been living here for quite some time, if ever. He observed the roof quietly, then the walls. During this inspection, he noticed something that made him feel cold. There was a smear of blood covering a portion of the woodwork, and a handprint in its center.
No-Face wavered, sides wobbling slightly. He reached out one of his hands, and saw that it was the hand of a human. He stepped away quickly, going to the exit.
((Oi oi. It's late, and I need sleep. ^_^;; Thanks muchly to Chirleep, Nai (I see you. O-o), Cardcaptor Mars, Astaire, and, er, ???? for the reviews. I really do appreciate them. ^_^ Till next chapter! ~Chaos ))