All characters are the intellectual property of Hayao Miyazaki
Eternal Child
The Boiler Man's story as he reflects on the daughter that he never had.
They say that I'm old and cranky. And they're right. I am crabby, grumpy, and I snap liberally at everybody who walks into my domain. But too few people know about the memories that little girl evoked. It reminds me too much of how I ended up here in the first place. How long has it been? About a century or two, I reckon. Oh yes, I've seen quite a bit. What goes on here, what takes place in their world outside, I reckon that I could tell you a few things about it.
I used to be a cook in the old days. I don't exactly remember having this many hands though. But when I woke up here, in the land of spirits, I had grown arachnid limbs. Well, it does have quite a few advantages, especially when they expect you to take care of a dozen things at once.
I was just one of the old labourers serving a really rich family. They were wealthy, and extremely generous. But there's always skeletons in the closet, as can be expected from a patriarch with that many dealings and acquaintances, right? That's the side they displayed to everyone. That they would never hesitate to share their bountiful and immense treasures with all those who required their help.
But in truth, they abused their slaves, us. We were forced to slog for hours on end, without food or rest, and if they were unhappy about the slightest thing, we were locked up in this dingy cellar. Many of my fellow servants died under their cruelty. And the most awful thing was that no one suspected anything.
They would simply lie and say that the servants who died and hence were not seen around their abode anymore had simply been sent home. Oh, they would spin fantastic yarns about how this one missed her family, or how that one's mother was sick, and were thus sent on their way with endless supplies of food and cash to bring home. Lies! All filthy lies. If only they could have seen the corpses in the basement, and how crassly they were disposed of later.
I was lucky enough to evade their watchful, monstrous eyes. I dutifully carried out my jobs, and I tried to make sure that they would have no reason to punish any of the other servants. Secretly, I was helping to plot our escape for all the helpers and their children, who were also forced to wait upon those brutes.
One night, we were preparing to make our escape, but there was a traitor amongst us and we were caught. The only thing that I am thankful for is that I know for sure that the others were spared and managed to run away later. But of course, as I was the brains of this de-facto runaways, I had to pay the price. They tortured me for three days, can you imagine? Taking it out on an old man like me! Then they beat me to death. That was the extent of their malavolence. They would not spare one single soul.
Well, that's all you have to know about how I ended up here. I suppose that these extra hands sprouting from my sides are a manifestation of my years slaving away, having to do so many things with only two hands. Well, now I can't complain about not having enough arms to finish the job.
And it wasn't like I did not get a bit of sweet revenge for myself. All those tiny helper bugs that dump the charcoal there, are actually the spirits of that heartless family. Since then, all their offspring have also been condemned to slogging for me. But I'm not completely without a conscience. I feed those little critters well, make sure that they have a nice, warm place to sleep, and ensure that they don't get scalded. In return, all they have to do is put up a good showing.
For a long time after, I was happy here. No humans, no pestering by the other inhabitants as well. Just me and my little apartment, exactly the way I desired it. But then she came, a slip of a girl. Ah, what a special child!
She might have been just another child. Unused to hard labour. Wincing at every foreign thing. But there was this special something about her. She was unassuming, and had extraordinary courage and self-possesion. She faced great obstacles, but set out conquering them in any way that she could, in her limited scope and experience.
Little Chihiro. You can say that after all, I'm a grump with a soft core, and you wouldn't be far wrong. I did have a soft spot for the girl. But then again, so did everyone else. I was so proud of the youngster when she passed that witch, Yubaba's final test. I suppose that it would take something really outstanding to put a spark in my old, worn out heart, but she did bring me in from the cold.
Reminded me of the little children of the other servants that I never missed an opportunity to play with. They were always stoic and remained their air of childish exuberance despite the circumstances. There was one, much more mature than the others, always shielding the others, yet she must have been the same age as the rest. Chihiro reminded me of that little girl. Understanding what selfless love is at a tender age, willing to make sacrifices for those you care for, that goes beyond unusual. She is an amazing child.
Since then, I have witnessed little Chihiro grow up, raise a beautiful family of her own, and live to a ripe old age in the world of mortals. And I know that she has kept me in her heart throughout the course of her long and fruitful life, because of the endless stories that she has passed down about me. Although I can only watch, there is no greater pleasure in witnessing someone so worthy.
I am bound to this endless existence here, and I have lost count of the centuries that have passed since that timd little child stepped into my lodgings. It will be many more before another one such child comes again, but I will never forget Chihiro, no matter how much time steals from us, no matter how many seasons may pass, some things will always remain constant.
And I will always cherish the invaluable lessons that she taught me.
A/N: This is quite different from all the other fanfics that i've ever written. Much more straightforward and simple, nothing fancy, told from one point of view. i hope that if you do read this, you would be so kind as to leave a review for a hopelessly amateur writer like me. Any kind of criticism would be welcome.