The question hit Chihiro like a freight train, spoken with the kindest of intentions and yet somehow managing to be the most painful thing she'd heard all day. When she'd first seen Haku return from wherever he'd gone to talk with . . . well, whomever he'd wanted to speak to, her heart had practically leapt into her throat in mingled anxiousness and excitement. She'd counted on him to bring this whole nightmarish event to an end – actually, half of her was still convinced that this was all just an elaborate bad dream as a whole – and now it seemed like it was only going to get worse from here. She knew that she couldn't blame him for what was happening, and yet, part of her couldn't help but feel her stomach sink all the way to her shoes in disappointment, the panic and fear that had subsided for a short time during the mysterious boy's absence now returning full-force within her.

Stay here? She couldn't possibly do that, not when she was supposed to leave for college tomorrow! What would happen to her friends, or her parents? Would they wake up tomorrow morning, stricken with terror when their daughter still never came home, or would her being trapped here cause them to forget about her entirely? If someone had really put a block on her own memory, then maybe it was possible for Mom and Dad to lose all recollection of her, too. Even Chihiro could feel the effect the place was beginning to have on all her memories of home; her mother and father's faces stood out clearly in her mind (what a relief) but Takeshi, Ari, and Mei were fuzzy at best. If Haku were asking her to stay a little longer, then surely it couldn't be dangerous, and yet she got the distinct feeling that being here for too long would only be bad for her.

And beyond even the obvious issues, this place frightened her. Apparently, she had been here before, long ago, but it still felt as though she were seeing everything for the first time, and therefore she couldn't feel more lost. The bath house was undoubtedly beautiful – magnificent and regal, a worthy display of honor and reverence for the myriads of important spirits who (according to Kamaji) were as old as the world itself. For all its loveliness, though, some of the spirits she had seen in just her short time here were completely gruesome-looking, and not to mention Haku had said earlier that there were people here who would want her put in harm's way if they ever discovered her. How could she stay any longer, when just a short time ago, Haku had been worried that she may not even survive long enough to get to the bath house at all without being detected?

Only now did it occur to her that this entire ordeal might just have been a complex, well-planned trick from the very beginning. The invisible barrier in front of the tunnel had felt real and impenetrable enough, but who was to say that the boy didn't simply enchant it to keep her from going through, then lie to her about all of it? What if he'd led her here under the promise that he would grant her the help she needed to get home, only to trap her here for eternity? That seemed rather like something a spirit – or a demon posing as something benevolent – would do. Cursing herself for her own stupid shortsightedness, Chihiro stole a quick glance over her shoulder; if she ran for it now, perhaps she could make it back to the tunnel before any of these creatures caught up to her. Clever though they may be, she could work her way out of this.

For a moment, she felt as though she may go through with it, and yet, all that dissolved when she chanced another look and met Haku's gaze. There was a definite chilly aloofness to the manner in which he held himself, even with only Chihiro and Kamaji as his company, but she couldn't help but feel compelled by what lied beneath the surface. As she searched his calm, even expression for any clue as to what he might be thinking, his unnervingly bright green eyes never once wavered from her own. They shone with a frigid light, and even so, underneath all that she noticed a strange sort of patience, of earnestness that almost seemed reserved only for her. She didn't precisely know how it was that she could be certain of this, but she had to conclude that he wasn't lying to her. He wasn't capable of that – not where she was concerned, anyway.

We knew each other before, Chihiro thought, remembering what Kamaji had just started to tell her before Haku had returned. He still remembers me, even though I must've been gone for years. I just wish I could remember him . . .

Kamaji cleared his throat, breaking the prolonged silence between the three of them, and with a start she realized that both he and Haku were now looking at her, near-identical expressions of curiosity painted across their faces. Oh, that was right – they still wanted an answer as to whether or not she'd be staying with them. As if she truly had a choice in the matter.

Chihiro took a deep breath to steady herself, squaring her shoulders in order to keep up her nerve. "I-I'm really sorry," she said at last, surprised that she could even still find it within herself to argue, as exhausted as this entire event had left her. "But I just can't stay. I've gotta go back – my parents, they'll be looking for me, and I've got to leave for school first thing tomorrow morning!" Even now, she could hear urgency bleeding its way into her voice, and she nearly cringed at the realization of how fearful and childish she sounded. "Isn't there any other way to get through that tunnel, or just go around it? I've got to get home!"

Haku stepped forward, reaching out and taking her hand in his own; his touch was notably cooler than her own palm, which was currently sticky and warm with sweat and stray dirt from the boiler room. It was so strange, she noticed, how having him there beside her almost instantly managed to assuage even the greatest of her fears. The way he looked at her, as if they were the only two people in the entire room, was comforting – it made it easier to speak with some degree of coherence what was on her mind, and remain confident that he wouldn't find her completely witless for anything she said.

"I know you're frightened, Chihiro," he murmured at last, addressing her in a low, patient voice, quite a far cry from the authoritative tone he'd taken with Kamaji earlier. "But you have nothing to fear. This is only a temporary solution; and I promise you, when you are able to return home, your school, your friends, and your parents will all still be there, waiting for you as if you never left."

She furrowed her brow, both set at ease by his words and left the slightest bit unnerved all at once. "I . . . don't understand. How long am I supposed to stay here? Y-you're not trying to keep me here forever, are you?"

Some sort of foreign emotion flitted across Haku's visage – amusement, perhaps. "Of course not. You can rest assured that the minute we figure out how to get you around that barrier, I will take you there myself and see that you return to the other side." He glanced back over his shoulder, and when he spoke again, it was clear that he was now addressing Kamaji as well as Chihiro. "I spoke with Yubaba," he said, "and while she could give me no news on the barrier, she did say that she knows of a way we might give Chihiro back her memories."

"Yubaba?" Chihiro piped up, glancing between the two of them. "Who's that?"

"A powerful witch," Haku responded, turning back to her if only for a moment, "and it would appear that she took it upon herself to place that spell upon your mind. That's the reason why you can't remember this bath house – but that can all be resolved soon enough. What I'm more concerned with is the appearance of that wall that kept you from going home."

Chihiro nodded; that made two of them.

Still, she would be lying if she said that some part of her wasn't relieved that there would be a way to regain her memories of this place, as well. All this time, she'd felt as though she were struggling to locate a missing puzzle piece, and nothing that she'd found yet had managed to quite fit the void she sought to fill – it was encouraging as well as nerve-wracking to learn that there was a way to restore what had been taken from her. She'd lived eight years of her life thinking that the story she'd imagined up as a ten-year-old girl was just that – a story. Now, to finally have confirmation that it was all real, to at last be able to regain what she'd thought she'd lost so long ago, was a prospect both thrilling and terrifying. Was she better off without those old memories filling up her mind? What would happen to her – what would change about her – when she got them back?

Kamaji jostled forward in his seat, a few discarded bowls that once held soup and noodles clattering together and startling Chihiro out of her reverie. "Haku," the boiler man gasped, as though he'd only just remembered something terribly important, "I think I might have an idea. You don't think that barrier has anything to do with . . . the Veil, do you?"

There went yet another term tossed around today that Chihiro didn't know. It came as a consolation, though, to see that Haku appeared to be just as puzzled as she. Though, it didn't seem likely that he wouldn't know what Kamaji was talking about; just in the time that she'd known him already, he struck her as a person who got down to business quickly, and always had the right answer for even the most complex problems. He'd helped her this far, after all, and had preserved right alongside her even when he seemed stumped, himself. It was starting to seem as though this problem wasn't quite as easily-solved as he would like her to believe.

"N . . . no, I don't think so," he concluded at last, only the slightest note of hesitance making itself known in his tone of voice. "I can't say for certain, of course, but with the fragile state it's been in lately, one would think the problem would actually be the opposite if it were the Veil." He seemed completely uncomfortable with knowing so little about the situation at hand, his brow furrowed so severely that Chihiro wondered if there would be a notch between his eyes if his expression ever relaxed. "I'll just have to give it some thought on my own," he sighed, as weary as he'd ever sounded.

Chihiro frowned, the exhaustion in his voice leaving her feeling inexplicably guilty. "I-I'm sorry," she stammered, regaining the attention of both Haku and Kamaji. "You – you don't think that maybe it was something that I did that messed up the tunnel, do you? I didn't mean to break anything . . ."

Upon hearing this, Haku's facial expression softened considerably, the harsh glint in his green eyes turning to something decidedly more comforting than before. The shift was certainly a welcome one; not for the first time – and, she suspected, not for the last — she found herself reveling in the sheer familiarity of those eyes, and how unequivocally safe she felt whenever she looked into them. Even the smallest change had an enormous effect, and Chihiro was all the more glad for it, as it was certainly better than anything else she'd experienced today.

"No, Chihiro," he reassured her. "None of this is your fault. You couldn't possibly have known not to come through the tunnel."

That's right, she thought, nodding her head slowly in response to his words, I was only taking a walk through the woods with my friends. I never should have come here.

She swallowed hard, cursing herself mentally when the first telltale sting of tears prickled at the backs of her eyelids. She'd always been prone to frequent crying – even as a child, whenever she became overwhelmed, she had the tendency to curl up into a ball and sob – but as she'd grown into adulthood, she'd gotten better at keeping her instinct to panic under control. Whenever that choked-up feeling threatened to surface, she had gotten into the habit of biting her lower lip to keep the tears at bay, focusing instead on breathing long and slow, calming her racing mind. Now, the most comforting thought she could manage was Haku, standing so sure and steady right there before her; he wasn't crumbling, and neither could she.

"You must be tired," Haku said at last, thankfully breaking the silence and distracting her from the sudden swell of emotion rising in her chest. "Come with me – if you'd like, I'll show you to your room."

Chihiro blinked, bemused by the simplicity of the statement. "My room?" she repeated lamely. She didn't know what she'd expected; this was a bath house, not dilapidated old haunted building, no matter how much it felt like the latter.

A rueful smile touched the corners of her companion's mouth before his expression evened into its usual thoughtful, serious position. "You'll need a place to stay here while we figure out how to get you home," he said. "So long as my stealth magic continues to work, I can hide you among the other bath house workers until we can take you back through the tunnel – you can live alongside them without Yubaba ever even noticing."

"B-But," Chihiro stuttered, sensing an inherent problem with this plan, "won't any of the others see that I'm here with them? What if they tell Yubaba that I'm staying in the bath house?"

Kamaji piped up this time, speaking as he crawled back over to his usual position, where two bright red tokens were hanging in midair, suspended from long strands of thick purple ribbons. "I don't think you'll have to worry about that too much. Many of those bath house workers owe you a great debt for something you did for them a long time ago – they are fickle, but not so much that they would betray someone to whom they owe their life."

Their life? Chihiro raised her eyebrows, thrown by this; what had she ever done to save so many people, and was it truly so important that the bath house workers would still remember it, even now? She had to admit, it was enough to rouse curiosity within her, but just as she opened her mouth to ask questions, Haku took a step closer and once again reached for her hand, decisive in his every movement. For now, this conversation was over (and she supposed it was just as well – she was exhausted, and likely wouldn't be able to make sense of anything Kamaji told her right at this second, anyway.)

"The important thing to remember is that there is nothing to fear," Haku interjected, his voice firm but not without its own kindness. As she tentatively placed her hand within his own, he added, "You survived this place once before, Chihiro; you are more than capable of doing it again." Yet, even as he spoke, there seemed to be a strange sort of regret in his eyes, as if he were thinking, though I wish you didn't have to. "Now, follow me – we need to get to your room while it's quiet, so you can settle in without being overwhelmed by everyone else."

"Okay," she said, giving him a short nod and trying her best to remain outwardly confident. "See you later, Kamaji – and thanks for your help!"

The wheezing bellows and hissing of steam and fire were the only response she got.

The room that Haku led her to was modest, but undeniably comfortable; it was wide and commodious, despite being sparsely decorated, and it appeared as though pains had been taken to save space wherever possible. What looked like little cubbyholes lined the wall just off to her left, where several drawers had been pulled out and varying layers of pink, white, and dark blue clothing were hanging out from the sides. Row upon row of blankets were spread out along the floor, so numerous that there was little to no space between each sleeping mat – she wondered which one would be hers. The wall along the far end of the room was adorned with floor-to-ceiling windows and a set of glass sliding doors. Through them, Chihiro could see the night sky, an inky black tapestry dappled with little white glints of starlight – she'd had no idea while down in the boiler room that so much time had passed, and couldn't help wondering if it was nighttime right now back at home, as well. She'd discovered this place just by walking through a tunnel, and yet it seemed so distant and disconnected from the rest of the world that she couldn't help but feel as though she'd entered a completely separate universe.

When she'd arrived, Haku had told her that they would have to part ways here, but that he would be back shortly and to get settled in while he was out. She'd agreed, secretly thankful to have a few moments alone in spite of all the day's fears that had been building up inside her; she'd been trying all this time to keep strong in front of him, so perhaps it would help to be able to get a little bit of that out of her system while she had the chance. Haku had already done enough for her today – the last thing she wanted to do would be to force him to worry over her some more.

So, while he was gone, she'd rummaged through the dresser drawers for a little while (anything to keep herself from completely breaking down all at once.) She figured that it would be easier to blend in if she had something to wear that resembled what the rest of the bath house workers wore – somehow she didn't think a dark red, paint-splattered university tee shirt and a pair of shabby blue jeans would be inconspicuous enough – but so far, everything she'd found was either massively oversized or far too small. Eventually, she'd settled upon the most suitable set of work clothes she could find, though the work pants were so baggy that she had to use two of the white ribbons around her midsection to keep them in place.

All the while that she remained alone in her room, she could hear the clamor from the lower floors, muffled and quiet, but still there. For some time, she'd simply crouched next to the little cubbies and pressed her ear to the floor, trying in vain to see if she could pick out any conversations in particular. Knowing that she'd been to this bath house before made the place more fascinating than horrifying; just like Haku said, if she'd been through it once, she could definitely do it again, and she couldn't help but be curious about the fantasy world she'd left behind all those years ago.

I was right, she'd thought with a begrudging, secretive little grin as she'd held her face to the wooden floor. All along, everyone tried to tell me it was just my imagination, but it was real the whole time. It was real.

Eventually, it became too cramped to sit there, half-lying against the floor, so Chihiro had picked herself up and moved over to the window, where she noticed for the first time that the door didn't just lead out into another hallway, but onto an open-air balcony that overlooked a glossy, placid lake. She'd taken a deep breath, satisfied by how crisp and clean the night air felt to breathe, and had moved to sit down just at the edge, legs dangling over the side and protected by the sturdy wooden railing. As much as she'd been through today, right now, the bath house was bizarrely . . . peaceful. It certainly would never be home to her, but it was as close to comfortable as she'd felt all day.

The sound of the sliding door being opened and shut should have alerted her to the presence of someone else on the balcony, but it was only until she heard a soft, "I see you've made yourself at home" that she perked up and turned around.

Sure enough, it was Haku, returning to her just as he'd promised. At first, she'd assumed that it was just another bath house worker coming back to their bedroom after finishing dinner; she was pleased to see that she was wrong in that respect. She had so many questions that she needed to ask him that had been buzzing around in her brain ever since coming to this strange place, and now it seemed they would finally be afforded at least a short time alone together. Even in the short time that she'd been acquainted with him, she'd discovered what a calming effect his presence always seemed to have upon her; it would be nice, after the day she'd had, to at least have his company for a little while.

"Haku," she greeted, watching as he strode slowly over to her side, his bare feet barely making a sound as they hit the wooden floor.

"Hello, Chihiro," was his greeting, quiet and curt but unfailingly polite.

He sank down next to her, first in a crouching position, then completely lowering himself onto the ground, tentatively allowing one leg to dangle forward off the edge of the balcony, as well. The other remained propped up, knee pressed close to his chest, and he lifted his right arm to rest his elbow against it. His left arm kept him sitting upright, palm flat against the ground, but in his free hand there was a steamed bun, fluffy and so fresh that smoke still billowed forth from it in little puffs when he took a bite. For what seemed like an eternity, he made no effort towards conversation or even eye contact with her, but when the silence had prolonged for a while, he at last looked over at her, studious and considerate, green eyes bright under the moonlight.

He must have noticed her eyeing the food, because he gave the softest chuckle and asked, "Would you like some? I only brought one, but I'd be more than willing to share it, if you'd like." Chihiro shook her head, and he replied, "If you're sure, then." There was the briefest pause before he thought to add, "I see you found some new clothes. Have you settled in well yet?"

"Yes," Chihiro replied, reaching up to absently toy with a few strands of her hair as she spoke. "It's . . . a very nice room, Haku. Thank you." If she were being completely frank, she almost felt guilty; Haku had been so kind to her all this time, and done so much to help her . . . she didn't want to seem as though she were ungrateful for that. "I have to admit, I really like this view; it's so beautiful."

Looking rather pensive, Haku nodded in agreement. "Nighttime is always busiest for the bath house," he said, "and when we are at our most active, everywhere else nearby seems so much quieter."

She was glad for that; it had been such a long and arduous day, and she was grateful for the chance to let her thoughts unwind in the cool night hours. Under the cover of the darkness and silence, even the bath house itself didn't appear quite such an intimidating prospect. She felt more certain of herself, more confident that she would be able to handle the days to come, when everything was so slowly paced and shadowed soft. And now that he was sitting beside her, she could take comfort in the fact that whatever awaited her, she wouldn't have to go through it alone.

Still, in spite of her newfound relaxation, there were still a few matters that she wanted further explained to her; only then did she feel that she could allow herself to become completely at ease with her current situation. While Haku was here, Chihiro supposed that she ought to take advantage of the moment and ask whatever questions were still floating around in the tangled recesses of her mind. She didn't know exactly how busy he stayed these days, and he was so mysterious, as elusive as a cloud of smoke, that she knew right away it would be difficult to keep up with where he was at any given time.

"Uh . . . Haku?" she piped up, finally remembering what she'd been wondering about most ever since parting ways with him earlier. She hesitated for just a moment, if only to allow herself enough time to collect her thoughts (Haku was so eloquently spoken, the last thing she wanted to do was trip up on her words in front of him) before saying, "Remember when you and Kamaji were talking earlier, and you mentioned that whatever kept me from going home might have had something to do with the Veil? I-I was hoping you could tell me what that actually is. The Veil, I mean."

She couldn't tell at first whether he was taking her question into consideration or simply ignoring the fact that she'd spoken to him at all. He filled the silence by taking another almost tentative bite of the steamed bun, his gaze faraway and impossibly melancholy as he stared out at the horizon. He seemed homesick, almost, longing for a place and a time that was no longer available to him; Chihiro couldn't help but feel the weight of his pains sitting deep in her chest, an ache of not just understanding, but wanting to help, to make sure that he could one day return to wherever it was that he thought about in the quiet moments of his life, when nothing else cluttered his mind.

At last, though, he seemed to figure out what it was he wanted to say. "When you were small, Chihiro, did you ever read fairy tales?"

It struck her as a strange question – or perhaps not all that strange, given the circumstances – and for a moment, she had to fight back the first hint of a smile threatening to twitch upwards at the corners of her mouth. "Of course," she told him at last, curiosity piqued. "Why do you ask?"

"Did you ever notice that in those stories, whenever the creatures that come from another world – a magical forest, or perhaps even another kingdom – mingle with humans, there are almost always terrible consequences?" She nodded shortly, prompting him to continue. "Well . . . the Veil exists between the spirit world and that of the living to prevent such consequences. It's been there for as long as I can remember – certainly even longer than that."

Chihiro rested her chin in the palm of her hand, struck with the vague feeling that she was just a child again, being read a bedtime story to help her fall asleep on a particularly restless night. "Do you know how it got there? Or is it just something that's always been there?"

"It's a long story – one I won't bother boring you with tonight," Haku assured her, a thoughtful little chuckle escaping his parted lips. "In short, once, long ago, both spirits and mortals could share the same Earth, and lived in tandem with one another. But with the arrival of a modernized society also came a planet with conditions no longer . . . hospitable to spirits. Rivers were filled with stone and cement, entire forests completely leveled . . . that was when the world of the spirits became separate from yours."

Chihiro frowned, troubled – and yet, the story made so much sense. One part, however, still had her the slightest bit thrown. "So . . . why did Kamaji think that the Veil might be what's keeping me from going home?"

Haku sighed, but it sounded more contemplative than exasperated. "I'm . . . not sure. Actually, as it so happens, the Veil has been thinning lately."

"Thinning?"

He gave her a single nod in return. "Sometimes even tiny holes have appeared in its surface – it's not visible, but I can feel it. Little spaces in between where there is no magic to be found. It has made it easier as of late for spirits to cross over into the human world . . . and vice-versa," he elaborated, giving her a pointed look at the end of his sentence.

"Oh," Chihiro breathed. After a moment's pause, though, she gave a bemused little shake of her head and observed, "But – Haku! If the Veil has gotten thinner and it's easier for people to cross through on both sides, then why did I get stuck on this side?"

He looked satisfied that she had come to this conclusion, as if he'd thought the same thing and were looking for validation of his ideas. "That's precisely our dilemma," he said. "But I suppose Kamaji was simply offering one suggestion, and his guess is as good as any at this point. In any case," he concluded with another quiet sigh, shifting his position as though he were preparing himself to get up, "it's hardly anything you need concern yourself with tonight. You've had an eventful day, Chihiro. Rest, more than anything else, will do you well at this point."

Well, he certainly wasn't wrong there; perhaps she'd simply been in shock all this time, attempting feebly to take in what had happened to her within the course of a day, but only now did it hit her how truly weary she was – and when it did hit her, it felt rather like a sack of bricks straight to the face. Her stomach gave a monstrous growl, and for a fleeting second, she regretted not accepting half of Haku's meal when he'd offered it to her earlier. Still, he was right, and her need for sleep at the moment reigned supreme over anything else. As if to further demonstrate this point, the impulse to yawn overtook her and her mouth gaped open wide; she clapped a hand over it to disguise the extent of her exhaustion, but Haku was perceptive enough to have spotted it, anyway.

"I must go now," he told her, rising to his feet in a single swift, fluid motion. Chihiro followed suit, though where he was all grace and control her movements were more like a clumsy scramble; she nearly tripped halfway up, and Haku reached out his hand to steady her. She found herself still clasping tight even long after she'd gotten to her feet. He either didn't notice or didn't mind as he said, "I can come find you in the morning, if you like, and then perhaps I can answer any more questions you may have." He paused just long enough to open the sliding door, stepping back to allow her to walk through. "In the meantime, get some sleep. And I'll see you tomorrow."

Chihiro nodded her head, but rather than completely concede to his advice, she lingered in the doorway for a few moments longer, wanting to drink in the details as much as she could before she fell asleep tonight. Despite knowing there was a block on her mind and that she couldn't access those memories, even if she tried, she couldn't help but want to dig deep, to see if there were a way to break through even without the help of Haku or Kamaji. Even worse than knowing her efforts were in vain was knowing that it would be some time before she could even hope of getting all those memories back again.

Puzzlement – or perhaps mild amusement – flitted across Haku's features, if only momentarily. "What are you doing?" he asked, apparently having noticed her intense concentration.

"I . . . nothing," she sighed, her expression relaxing at last. "I just wish I could remember you."

Haku smiled at her, a little sadly, and gave the hand still feather-light in his grip a quick but gentle squeeze. "You will," he reassured her with a nod of his head. "Just give it time." And yet, in spite of the confidence of his words, there was an undeniable melancholy in his voice, an almost regretful undercurrent to every syllable. "Good night, Chihiro."

"Good night, Haku," she replied, stepping into her room at last. "Thank you."

Shortly after she turned her back, the screen door snapped shut, the loudness of the noise startling her. A few seconds spanned in silence, and then she turned around, wondering if he would perhaps still be there; with a gasp, she realized that the balcony was empty – but how was that possible? The only way he could be gone that quickly is if he jumped over the side, and they were far too high-up for that! Chihiro rushed to the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, and as soon as she made it there, she understood.

There, soaring through the air, was a magnificent white dragon, unfurling against the night sky like a ribbon of silk.