Spirited away

Chapter 2

The sound of the wagon, moving from a rail to the next, lulls me gently. Hinami's hair is spread over my shoulder, which she uses as a pillow.
There's still half an hour to go before we stop, we'll be just in time for dinner.

Something warm begins to vibrate against my chest, I grab the cord I wear around my neck and pull the pendant out of my robe. In the small metal cage, my dragon pearl rattles and glows. Hinami, disturbed by my movements, opens one eye and then straightens up completely when she notices what's distracting me.

- Is Shiro waking up?

I simply nod my head. The small grey smoke that only I can see is escaping from the stone. The sinuous mist stretches and snakes before my eyes, before condensing into a familiar silhouette. The first time it appeared, it was the size of my little finger. It has grown, day after day. Now the ethereal being sitting comfortably on my lap is barely a head shorter than me.

- Where is he?

- On top of me.

Hinami moves her hand forward and through the body of dust. The spirit is startled and immediately stands up. He doesn't like being passed through. He moves away from us, finds another free seat and then turns his featureless face towards the shifting landscape. Sometimes a wave of sadness overwhelms him, it is not always easy to live behind a veil of invisibility.

- You've upset him, you know he hates that.

- It tingles, it's the only way I can feel him. I make sure he's there.

Hinami had admitted the existence of my transparent friend. That was some time ago. We weren't very close yet, I was a newcomer, obedient, very invested in what I was doing and appreciated for my mature and responsible side. Hinami was the orphanage's pet peeve, not mean, but clumsy, lazy, stubborn. We were the same age and very quickly the supervisors compared us, telling her over and over again that she should learn from me. I was the model girl whose smooth image was ruining her life. She was bitter and curious to know if I had any weaknesses. It had become her favourite pastime, spying on me to discover a flaw in my behaviour. She wanted to reach into that flaw and show the adults that I wasn't perfect either.

I didn't realise what she was up to until she found out my secret. In the evenings, I took advantage of my temporary isolation to chat with this strange little white spirit who came out of my pearl from time to time. He never answered me except by gestures, he could not touch me, but his presence was enough.

He had been there during the three years I had spent with my parents in our new home. There is no home no longer, no parents, but he is still there, helping me remember.
At first, at mealtimes, the white spirit sat on the table, next to my chopsticks, circling my bowl of rice when I put it down. Then he grew bigger, and would just sit next to me, with his back straight. My parents didn't see him, nor did my friends at school. He pranced around the garden, loving the plants. He climbed along the rosebushes, then up the trees... His light followed me everywhere, he imitated my actions, stole books from me... His curiosity about the world knew no bounds, nor did mine about him.

Our relationship was rocky at first, the size difference intimidated him and he really hated it when I scratched him. If I had the audacity to walk through him, he would take offence and not show up again for at least a week. Then, as time went by, a ritual was established. Each time he woke up, he would ask me to stand up with arm rolls, then compare our heights: at the ankle, then at the knee, at mid-thigh, at the waist, at the navel, at the chest, at the shoulder, finally at the chin. He was proud to see himself growing faster than me, jumping up and down with each step he took, daring me to catch him and disperse his volatile matter. But last season his incredible growth finally stopped, and I for one regained a few inches.