She always thought how funnily emotional pains manifested into physical, can't-ignore symptoms. Take regret, for example. It was a lot like an ache, really, only more intense, like maggots picking at her brain and heart where the mind and soul should be. After a session of regret, she would often retire into her room with a headache and a bottle of aspirin.

Regret, that pesky old friend, was coming back a lot lately. Even Akio started taking notice—well, of dwindling supply of aspirin in the cabinet, to be precise. Nobody besides the two of them in the house bothered with painkillers, so the culprit was self-evident. When the "phase" didn't pass, he started sending her sidelong looks that were supposed to be discrete. Dai brewed her "herbal teas" that were quite effective with headaches, but nothing could keep the regret away. Nothing.

"Honey, what's wrong?" Her husband lumbered into the room. Ah, so the "confrontation time" finally came.

"Lots on my mind," Mrs. Ogino answered. When she didn't elaborate, Mr. Ogino sat down and huffed.

"We're in this together, you know," he said. "You ought to talk with me when something's up."

"Up?" Mrs. Ogino barked a laugh. "When, husband of mine, are things not up?"

"So how is this any different?"

"It wears on you, you know? All the doubts, all the insecurities, all the second thoughts—when you have to make a lot of hard decisions, it haunts you."

"It makes you wonder if you've done the right thing."

She looked up, crashing with her husband's searching eyes. A wry smile played on the corners of his mouth. "I know. I feel regret, too."

A bit of her headache receded before the worries came hurtling down.

"Do you think we're doing the right thing, though?" Mrs. Ogino whispered.

"Of course. You heard Dai."

"Then how is it that something so right feels so wrong?"

In the ensuing pause, Mrs. Ogino learned plenty of things. For the first time, she saw her raw insecurity lurking in her husband's gaze and the defeat in his tilted head. He had regrets and second thoughts and worries, too.

She also learned she was an awful wife.

"Because we're hurting our daughter to save her," he concluded. "But we also have to take care of ourselves, you know—let's leave the kids and get some sushi downtown."

For a split second, Mrs. Ogino wanted to take her kids with her. However, seeing Chihiro—dejected, morose Chihiro—would only exasperate and worry her at the same time. Wouldn't that defeat the whole purpose of their small getaway?

"A nice break is quite overdue," she agreed. "Oh, and we might need to buy more aspirin on the way back."

Chihiro watched as her parents' gray Audi disappear around the curve of the road. Just before getting in, Mr. Ogino looked up and met his daughter's stare. Then he turned away, swung open the door, and got in—as did her mother. No air-kiss, wave, or even a smile. Hardly even a goodbye.

Backing away from the window, Chihiro swept her room with unseeing eyes. A flicker of white caught her attention, and she saw a stack of homework papers and assignments. It was only half-done and, if her motivation was of any indication, would probably stay that way. So immersed was Chihiro in her thoughts that she nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw Dai hovering in the doorway.

"What are you doing here?" she snipped.

If her sharp tone affected him, Dai didn't show it. "How's schoolwork?"

"Schoolwork? You seriously came to ask me about schoolwork?"

His only response was a flicker of his eyes, from the bank of papers on her desk and back to her.

Chihiro gave a little shake of her head. "Fine."

Dai approached his sister and looped a strand of hair behind her ear. "How are you?"

"Brilliant," she hissed, moving away. "Now, please leave my room immediately."

Dai's scrutinizing stare never faltered. Chihiro flattened her clammy palms on her desk and swallowed. Why did her human brother still remind her of a ghost?

His hand was a feather-light touch on her shoulder.

"What?!" she shrieked, jerking back. "What do you want, Dai? Haven't you done enough already?"

"Don't you see I'm only trying to protect you?" he whispered. "Don't you see how dangerous it is?"

"I hate to break it up to you, Dai, but my life hasn't exactly been safe for the past nine years!"

"Exactly—ever since you went there."

"There was your home! There is my home! How can you say such a thing?"

"You're a human!" he exploded. "You are supposed to live here!"

"What about you?" she asked him. "Are you a human, too?"

Shock registered in his features, followed by apprehension. Before he could utter a word, Chihiro kept talking.

"You say how terrible it is there—how you've seen the worst of it, being a no-face for the past, what, sixteen years? But I can see that you lie. There's that flicker of uncertainty, that clench of your jaw that tells me something is off. You miss the Spirit Realm, too."

"I miss Zeniba," he corrected her. "She was like the grandmother I never had."

"And I miss her, and Haku, and Lin, and -"

"What about your parents?" he seethed. "Are you willing to leave them for somebody who will only put you in harm's way?"

Chihiro froze. There was her dilemma—her love or her blood.

Of course, this was nothing new to Chihiro. Humans couldn't live in the Spirit Realm; if she would make an exception for herself, then she would have to bid her goodbyes. Her parents couldn't come with her, for doing so would not only cause them "physical drawbacks" but also sentence them to an unfulfilling life. Now, there was also her newfound brother to consider. It was never a lighthearted decision to make, but she was relying on her parents' support—Dad's humor, Mom's insight.

"In time, you'll see I am only trying to protect you."

"It's still a decision I will have to make," emphasized Chihiro, "and according to Lin, I might not have a choice. She said that I am hopelessly vulnerable in the human world now that my presence has angered some of the influential spirits. How will any of you protect me here if they come after me?"

Blood couldn't have drained any quicker from Dai's face if Chihiro cut his throat open. For the first time since she could remember, Dai—who had the grueling experience to rival any human—looked lost. She imagined the triumph should have made her feel proud, or at least hopeful, but something about her brother's forlorn eyes tugged at her heartstrings.

"C'mon," she muttered, "we need to prepare supper."

Dai held his tongue as they worked side-by-side in the kitchen. Chihiro began to contemplate that she finally got through her brother's thick skull. Was it possible she could convince her parents with Dai supporting her? It was an optimistic thought, albeit a foolish one. Foolish hope hurt.

It was Dai who softly interrupted the silence. "You know, I do want you happy, but are you sure the Spirit Realm will give you that? You don't know that place like I do. All you've seen are hospitable grannies -"

"Yubaba hardly constitutes as hospitable, Dai -"

"And good-natured friends," he continued. "I've seen the worst of it, though." A long-suffering sigh escaped his lips. "I don't want you to go into something blind, jeopardizing your safety in the process, only to discover that you cannot go back if you change your mind."

Chihiro begrudgingly placed two bowls of steaming rice on the table. Well, he did have a point—she had seen only the bathhouse and the Palace. But . . .

"I love him, Dai," she breathed.

"And are you sure he reciprocates those feelings? Did he tell you he loves you?"

Chihiro whipped her head up so fast it nearly hurt her neck.

"Well?" Dai challenged. "Did he?"

"I . . . I . . ." Her voice trailed off. There was affection. He guided her, protected her, whispered sweet words when she cried, shared her sorrow, and even removed Yubaba's curse, thus restoring her health. Did a stronger sign of affection exist?

Dai planted the seed of doubt, and the damage was done—strange thoughts sprang unbiddenly. It was one thing to be a wonderful friend but altogether another matter to bind oneself to a human. What if a human and an immortal weren't meant to be? What if he needed a spirit princess to shoulder his burden and realized that she—a mere human—could never fulfill that position?

After all, he never did he say he felt for her as she felt for him.

All she said was, "The food will get cold."

Hours ticked by, but there was no sign of the elderly Oginos. The siblings ate their lunch, washed the china, and swept the floor for good measure. Still, no sign of them. Dai was getting nervous, too. He was eerily quiet and scowling at the windows as if he could will their parents back. Finally, Chihiro said, "I'll go look for them."

"They'll probably be back soon," said Dai, yet he sounded as if he was persuading himself.

She crumpled a washrag in her fist and threw it. "Let's call them. I'm getting worried."

Dai fished a cell phone out of his pocket and dialed a number. The phone rang shrilly until, at long last, a robotic voice terminated the call. Chihiro was halfway to the door in the time it took her brother to call out a question.

"I'll check on them," she said, shrugging on a jacket. "The sushi bar is just fifteen minutes from here, so don't worry about me. If anything is amiss, I'll call you."

"Let me come with you."

"You don't know how to ride a bike, Dai," Chihiro pointed out. "Besides, you'll only slow me down."

Her sibling sent a withering glance at the sky, muttering, "It's getting dark—I don't like this. You shouldn't be out alone."

The brunette was wrestling her bicycle out of a closet and pushing it past the door. "Don't worry about me, Dai, think of our parents! What if something happened?" Worry darkened her eyes. Her father used to be a bit of a daredevil, but her mother always has been sensible; why didn't either of them accept the call or stay out this late?

Seeing her brother's expression tighten, she added, "Don't worry, it's a safe neighborhood. I'm sure I'll be fine." She reached over to plant a chaste kiss on his cheek. "Make some tea ready, won't you?"

He grinned and ran a hand through his hair. "The herbal one?"

Chihiro couldn't help pulling a face. "No, jasmine tea, please." The siblings parted with a goodbye smile, and Chihiro was off the slope. She had spoken the truth when she said the sushi bar was a quarter of an hour away; for a longer distance, she would be obliged to hail a taxi. The scene was also picturesque: neat little rows of brick and cement houses and colorful banners and shops, lined with trees, shrubbery, and lampposts. Chihiro relished the beauty briefly before digging through the recess of her memories. Mr. Ogino's acquaintance owned the tiniest, coziest little place just down the road, and her parents frequented the shop for its rustic, down-to-earth feel. A small smile tugged at Chihiro's lips as she remembered how the three of them would spend hours there.

Now, the circumstances were drastically different and far darker.

Chihiro diverged from her path, and her eyebrows hopped in surprise. What was that acrid stench filling her nose? Just as she belatedly realized the answer, a scream tore from her throat. A gleaming red truck sped around the corner, and firefighters directed their hoses at the quaint sushi bar. The shop brimmed with flames, but most horrible of all was the absence of her parents.

At first, she couldn't believe it—the sushi bar on fire? Why? Who would do such a thing? Was it an accident? Her head whirled until the mental image of her parents jarred her into action. She frantically scanned the area to no avail.

"Mom! Dad!"

Somebody blocked her path, grabbing her shoulders and leaning to her eye-level. Chihiro felt herself flush with anger until the uniform registered in her mind. A policeman was holding her back. She rushed heedlessly into danger as if her parents were trapped inside, as if the dozen of firefighters before her wouldn't notice a couple inside a burning cafè.

"Miss!" The policeman gave her shoulders a shake. "Stay here. It is not safe. Do not interfere with the professionals' work."

Fear made her immobile, but her wide-eyed, wordless stare seemed more satisfactory than a level-headed "yes." The policeman left her in favor of interviewing the witnesses, and Chihiro's voice of reason began to whisper.

You're too foolhardy, it scolded. You practically run into a burning building without realizing what you're doing. You as good as committed suicide when you defied everyone to kill the Dark Spirit. You could have died—and where would that leave your parents? Don't you see that your demise would have crushed so many?

Her subconscious dragged a polar opposite of the event: she saw Haku running into someplace perilous to rescue a loved one. He didn't pause to assess the situation or question his safety; he just ran, as she did. She watched in horror as he found his mother facing a grotesque beast, and in a moment of valiancy, he sacrificed himself. Only he hadn't gifted his mother a life; he damned her to a hollow, grieving existence, a fate more painful than death.

How broken Chihiro would feel to incur such a loss! How she would despise the universe if he died there!

Foolhardiness wasn't the same as courageous selflessness; it was a vice. It was sheer stupidity. On the other hand, Haku wasn't foolhardy like her; he never lost his head or put himself in harm's way thoughtlessly when he protected her at the bathhouse. Only now, looking through the sieve of her memories, did she realize how much he risked for her—how courageous and selfless he was. But never foolhardy for that behavior could spell out her doom as well as his own.

"You have your parents to worry about," she muttered. "Think, Chihiro, think."

A grayish-blue Audi confirmed that Mr. and Mrs. Ogino had indeed been here, but where were they now if not in plain sight? None were in the bar—that much was a relief. Her parents weren't in the plaza, either, so where then?

Could the vengeful spirits Lin warned about have anything to do with this?

Chihiro crept parallel to the plaza until she reached a dark alley. Her voice wobbled as she called out her parents' names, but there was no answering cry.

Her parents weren't inside the sushi bar.

They left their car behind.

They had not picked up the phone.

It was wholly uncharacteristic of her aging parents, particularly her well-fed father, to leave a perfectly fine vehicle and walk. And even if the car's engine failed, they wouldn't have sauntered farther from home. They would've dialed for help and stay put.

As comprehension struck, Chihiro prayed that Dai would forgive her for breaking a promise. He might think she abandoned them in a time of need or even orchestrated the circumstances; she would never know. The way her brother looked when she kissed him goodbye, as if he became ten years younger, could very well be her last memory of him.

Chihiro stared into the blackness and called out, "I'm here!"

A spirit suggestive of a toad emerged. One look into his glittering black eyes and Chihiro knew he was as much of an enthusiastic human-hater as they come.

Just like Dai warned her.

"You have my parents?" She would stand her ground. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of her fear.

"You are in no position to be asking questions, human," hissed the frog.

Chihiro took a step back, toward the glow cast by a fire. "Yes, I am! I can scream and bring the entire horde of humans on your head! Do you have any idea what we're capable of?" She stepped closer towards the circle of light for good measure.

"You're dumber than I thought!" the spirit spat.

"You're weakened—you're in a foreign element—but I'm not," she pointed out. "And we're destructive. Either tell me where my parents are or I'll scream so loud you won't know what hit you."

The frog cocked its head in contemplation but, unbelievably, it didn't call out the flaw in her plan. Chihiro sucked in a breath, relished in the feel of her lungs expanding, and let it all out in a dangerously loud shriek.

"Where are my parents?! Tell me now!"

The spirit gesticulated, and some unforeseen force brought her parents from the darkened alley. They were unconscious, limbs slack, wrists and ankles tied, barely breathing.

For the second time, Chihiro silently bid her family goodbye. Perhaps Dai received the kinder farewell—at least he would carry the image of his smiling sister, riding off into the dusk. What would her parents understand of the mysterious circumstances under which their daughter disappeared?

"What have you done to them?"

Mercifully, the frog spirit answered her. "Not much—a mere fainting spell that will wear off in a while. Do I need to spell out the conditions of your parents' release?"

"I go willingly," she monotoned, "and you let them go."

"With all the humans here, I'm sure they'll be home before the night fades." His grin was predatory, ripping a shudder from the human girl.

Chihiro shut her eyes and screamed out every name she could think of, but nobody heard her. How could they? In a moment of self-preservation, she found herself questioning what Haku would do only to realize it didn't matter.

She was a mere, powerless human; everything that Haku would undoubtedly do was beyond the capabilities of a mortal. Once again, putting her life on the line was the only way.

"Bye," she whispered, steeping to touch her parents' faces.

"Move!" barked the frog.

Clammy hands grasped her forearms and, before Chihiro could scream, she has swept away in a flash of dizzying light.


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SAK00