The Other World

Chapter 3 - Masks and Contradictions

Chihiro dreamt that she was riding a dragon. They flew through the bright sunlight with the wind caressing her hair, and she could feel its scales beneath her fingers, warm and smooth, as she talked to it. Him. The dragon was a him. He shook out his green mane and his muscular body rumbled in laughter at what she had said. Her mouth moved, but she couldn't make out her words. She could only feel the pleasure and freedom of flight.

Then the sky grew dark. She was standing on the ground and the dragon was above her, flying fast. He rammed himself against an invisible wall in the sky, over and over, until he shook with pain and exhaustion. Stop! Chihiro cried to the dragon, You're hurt! Stop! but she made no sound, and could only watch helplessly as the dragon thrashed, its mane matted with blood and torn scales, and fell through the air. The dream drew her away; the white dragon shrank into a white dot, still falling, too far away for her to help. She thought she felt a broken thud as he hit the ground.

Chihiro woke with tears in her eyes and sharp ache in her chest. "Stop," she whispered. But she couldn't remember who she was talking to or what she was trying to stop. A bad dream. It was only a bad dream. She slept.

---

"Do you have it?"

Haku produced a strand of hair - it was one of Chihiro's, he knew, though it was pale and had been stripped of its original color; it still smelled of her - and handed it to Zeniba. The sun was just rising over the swamp.

The window opened again in the air, showing the messy room beyond. Two of the walls were taken up by two full bookshelves. The other two were plastered with posters of boy bands and actors. A large traditional Japanese bed heaped with furry plush animals took up most of the floor. Chihiro was bent over, scooping up the silk-bound copy of the Kojiki from next to her pillow. She turned and grabbed a leather bound journal from her desk, pushing aside tangled piles of jewelry, and slung her backpack over her shoulder. The window followed her into the kitchen and then out into the still-grey morning.

She walked toward the woods by the highway, where a familiar narrow track led her through the trees. The fog still hung, like a heavy curtain, over the branches. Little cinderblock shrines, built when the town was only a farming village, lined the track, and as she followed it, they could see stout statues peek out from between the gaps in the trees. The track ended in a small paved clearing with one of the statues standing in the middle, as if guarding the place. She sat down, leaning against the statue, and pulled out her breakfast and library books.

"She can't see the gate," Zeniba reminded Haku, seeing his surprise. "Remember, the spell he wove into the Gates banishes a human's memories of his time in the Spirit World, and uses pain to train the human to never try to remember. Fear and hatred of spirits and the Spirit World spreads on the other side as a result, which I'm certain he intended. If Chihiro is to ever recover her memories of her time, here, you must find the charm."

---

The white dragon swam through a dark, narrow cave. The weight of the water and rock above him was crushing, but it was still water, and it could not hurt him. The water fought him, pulling him backwards by his tail and mane. Still, he made headway and approached a small opening in the tunnel. The current was the strongest here. The dragon waited a moment, shoring up his energy, and then shot forward through the hole into a still lake. Everything was subtly different. He tasted the faint tang of metal and smoke in the air. The water had slightly too much nitrogen and was cloudy with algae. Chihiro watched as the dragon rose out of the water and turned into a young man.

---

She looked so innocent, bare-faced and in simple clothing, asleep against against the guardian of the Gate with her books lying open around her. Her skin looked translucent with youth in the filtered sunlight; her hair fluttered in the breeze. Her salty musky human scent lay delicately upon the smell of leaves breaking down on the forest floor.