Saburo felt like a character in Noh theatre. Everyone seemed to be staring at him with anticipation. The small room had become fairly crowded as a tall, intimidating lady, who apparently was the leader of the town, and a taller man had stepped into view, as well as a few other men and women dotted around. He felt like reversing his decision. But when he looked to San, he saw no pressure in her face, of which he had managed to vaguely recollect when he was lying on the blood-soaked moss of the forest floor. She would be his advocate. He sighed deeply, wondering how to begin his story.

Then he spoke.

'...My name is Saburo. I'm 16 years old, and… I don't know what to do. I… suppose I should start from the beginning'.

He paused, finding his words awkwardly as the unknown gazes seemed to encroach on him.

'I come from the North I think, from a forest far away from here. You see, I'm not exactly from the usual Japanese society. I live with my clan in the woods. Well…I did. We lived there happily for countless years, alongside the other clans. I don't know their names as they were banished from the land hundreds of years ago by the outsiders, scary people with huge weapons unlike any we'd ever seen. We were okay for far longer, but we had to work hard to defend ourselves as our land was taken from us and turned into metal jungles.'

As the crowds' faces showed intrigue at Saburo's tale, he felt more confidence stirring inside him. He tried to remember what his father had told him.

'Around this time, long before I was born, someone came to our clan. He was a man of such an unusual appearance, taller than the trees with skin as dark as coal. He seemed to appear out of thin air, many suspected he was some sort of Mononoke. I suppose they weren't too far off'. Saburo said this as if it had bothered him before; a malice was palpable in his voice.

'He proved to be very capable in fighting off the intruders, and the clan made the mistake of letting him stay. By the time we realised he was against us, it was too late. He called on a God to do something to us, something horrible. He claimed he was only trying to help us win against the others, but we didn't fall for it. He was banished permanently for what he did.'

'What did he do?' blurted out a man. His inability to hold his tongue earned a scowl from San and the woman sitting next to him. Despite this, the eagerness in his face reflected everyone else in the room.

Saburo stiffened, his pupil dilating. He had been carried away by his story.

'He…hurt us. And it has continued to hurt us to this day'.

He quickly shifted the focus.

'Not long after, we had no choice but to leave the forest. Many clan members died in that final skirmish. It's probably nothing more but a wasteland now. Humans seem to have a habit of abandoning things when they are of no more selfish use to them.' He scowled.

'We've been travelling ever since, trying to find a new home, and…something that could alleviate our pain. One of our elders had a vision of a beautiful forest, filled with Kodamas and streams. We believed this was the Shishigami's forest. It is really quite famous across Japan. But, I suppose finding a new home and a remedy in the same place was too good to be true… He was our last hope'.

He finished. His mind seemed to become clearer as he recounted his tale, and was able to acknowledge the death of the Shishigami. He held himself tightly, tears brimming in his eyes.

The crowd murmured among themselves as he trailed off. Ashitaka looked bewildered as he took in his story. He almost forgot that this still didn't explain the screeching. The importance of it had been dismissed momentarily as the crowd envisioned his story, looks of empathy directed towards him. However Eboshi, ever the logician, had not.

'This talk of your misfortunes is all well and good, Saburo, but, tell us, what does this have to do with your current state? Moreover, where is this clan of yours?'

Saburo seemed temporarily taken aback at her unsympathetic words, reminding him that these people were helping him only to protect themselves. He started panicking again, before Ashitaka stepped him to lend a comforting arm around his back, as if he were saying 'you don't have to say anymore if you don't want to'. But he felt obliged. Even if it were for their own needs, this town had helped him survive, nonetheless. His gashes throbbed.

'I don't currently know where my clan is', he started, 'but I will find them again. I suppose you are asking about my injuries, yes? Well, the memories are still quite fuzzy, but… I remember I was patrolling Shishigami's forest. I think I knew at the time something was off. There were no Kodamas, and everything just seemed…lesser. Then, out of nowhere, there was a monster, unlike any I'd seen. He might have been, a… God of the forest, maybe. It couldn't have been a normal animal. It was very dark, so I couldn't make out its appearance, other than the outline of horns and sharp teeth. I tried to run, but I was frozen with fear, and he attacked me, creating this wound on my face'. He pointed to his covered eye.

'I don't know how I survived, but it was all thanks to San that I was found. That's all I know. I'm sorry'.

The room was silent once more as the crowd contemplated what they had heard. The boy seemed frightened once again; Ashitaka couldn't help wondering whether there wasn't something a little sinister about him. He had hurried through his words, choking on them almost, and he felt somewhere in the back of his mind that this didn't answer everything. What about the untouched trees? His miraculous survival? The monster's appearance…

At least Saburo has become less of a stranger, he told himself, at least we now know the screeches were real. Ashitaka remembered the caterwauls in his mind.

Only one?

'That is all for now', Eboshi broke in, 'Thank you for cooperating. Let's go, Gonza', she finished, gesturing to the big man to follow her, and they both exited the hut. With that cue, the others started dissipating as well.

Ashitaka and San watched them go. Ashitaka turned back to the boy.

'Are you okay, Saburo? Did you tell us everything you can remember for now?'

'Yes'.

He looked down at the ground, not meeting Ashitaka's gaze. A sorrowful insincerity stifled the room.

'Is it okay if I can have something to eat? I'm hungry'.

'O-Of course, I'll get you some Okayu'.

Just before he left, Ashitaka remembered a question he wanted to ask.

'By the way, what is your clan's name, if you don't mind my asking?'

Saburo lay down again, staring up at the ceiling like it was covered by the most fantastic stars he had ever seen.

'We are known as Mizu no Shizoku' (Clan of the Water).

Ashitaka bowed and started to leave. Realising this would leave her alone with the now even stranger boy, she leapt up and followed him, whispering a quiet 'thank you' as she left.

…

He walked solidly through the undergrowth, snapping vines and tendrils as they caught on his boots. Just ahead now. Through the newly-sprouting leaves he could catch a glimpse of a wide expanse of water. Not so long now, there would be the town he had heard so much about. The moon was a bright lily, casting its pure light into the forest, shattered by the leaves on the forest floor. A tranquil, fresh atmosphere could not calm the rage in his body.

Climbing up the steep rocks, he could sense the wind above him, indicating the grassy hill that would reveal to him his destination. His wild dark brown hair caught in some of the lower branches of the surrounding trees, pulling at the thick strands uncomfortably. Shaking himself free, his dark gaze focused on what was ahead, giving new strength to his bruised legs.

Finally, he reached the peak. The fresh night air entered his body welcomely, before being exhaled as a quivering heat. The town, like a palace in between the powerful mountains and frightening lake, sat unmoving. No clangs of metal, no constant throttles of smoke invading his airways. So it was true. The iron town really had stopped making their namesake. It in fact looked as if it had never harmed an inch of the surrounding land. He was sure those thick emerald mountains were once skinned to its dusty skeleton.

Nevertheless, he was here. He had seen him be taken pity on, given empathy simply for a few cuts. He was simply left to rot, the same way everyone left him. Didn't he deserve an ounce of empathy?

No. You can't rely on anyone for pity. It is simply a gateway to exploitation of weakness.

He would pay. The lying scoundrel wouldn't have his pity party for much longer.