Final

   Don’t look back.

   That was what he told me before we parted ways. The sun warmed the top of my head, and my clothes seeped in the heat. The wind sent the fields of grass swaying with its rhythm, and it pushed me away from him. I made myself believe that it was for the better.

   Sometimes, whenever I wake up in the morning, I’d wonder if the things I’ve experienced from when I was younger were all true. My eyes would automatically land on my drawer, only to see a purple hair tie, glinting beneath the gentle sunshine. I would smile by that time, and the memories would flash before me in fast forward, with one scene as vivid as the other.

   Yes, I would hear myself think. It’s all true.

   I was ten years old when all of those things happened. And it was ten years ago when I last saw my friend, who saved me from drowning. I inevitably grew up, and many things have happened. Nevertheless, none can ever compare to what I’ve experienced in the bathhouse.

   I was able to graduate elementary and high school with flying colors, and before entering university, I told my parents that I wanted to write.

   My dad scoffed upon hearing this. It was a summer afternoon, then, with the sunshine streaming down through our living room window, soaking everything it touches in a soft, yellowish glow.

   “Why writing all of a sudden, Chihiro?”

   “I feel that I’ll be able to use it to help people,” I explained straightforwardly. My mom already knew about my aspiration, and she agreed. All I had to do was convince him.

   “People?” he repeated.

   I closed my eyes, and thought about Lin, together with the other employees in the bathhouse. Their—our—pink working uniforms seemed so real, I could still feel its starchy texture brushing against my skin. I thought about Haku, together with the spirits who forgot their identity, thus holding them captive in the spirit world. If it was that bad in there, how much chaos would my own world even hold? I at least wanted to make a difference. In all honesty, that was one of the few thoughts I’ve cradled deep inside me over the years. It was one the few thoughts I’ve nourished.

   I didn’t want young girls and women to work in that kind of bathhouse. I didn’t want them to love money too much it would lead them to greed. I didn’t want them to experience the things Lin had to go through. I wanted them to find their own identity and love it.

   “Dad,” I began, after taking in a deep breath. “I want to live for a cause.”

   He simply looked at me with those warm eyes of his, and said, “My, my, look at how you’ve grown, Chihiro.”

   I took that as a yes.

<:>

   By the time I turned nineteen, I finally moved out of our house, only to stay in one of the apartments built over the Kohaku River. It was ironic, hilarious and painful all at the same time. I was once again nearer to my first home, but things have changed. I was able to return to the place I never liked to leave when I was still ten years old, but my friends were gone.

   Rumi, my best friend, committed suicide. She was the one who gave me a bouquet of flowers before I left. I wasn’t able to attend the funeral, because I never knew. My other friends didn’t know how to contact me or my parents. She was sick and tired of her mother bringing home a different man almost every night. She worked in a brothel.

   Rumi got raped while her mother was too drunk to even notice. That was the last straw, so she took the rope and hung herself in her mother’s room to make sure she’d be the first one her mother would see the moment she woke up. She was fifteen by that time.

   It worked, and her beloved mother stayed in the asylum ever since.

   I knew this not from my other friends, but from the elders who was able to recognize me while I walked in our old neighborhood, hoping to see our former house. Sometimes, an adult’s memory is no joke.

<:>

   I would like to believe that my desire to fight child prostitution started to grow after my encounter with Yubaba and the other spirits. And it grew stronger by the time I heard what had happened to my friends. With my experience in the bath house, my teachers would praise me for my imagination, not knowing that the things I was writing about actually happened to me.

   I wouldn’t tell them, though, not only because they wouldn’t believe me, but because I knew it was another way of ‘looking back’. Haku said to not do it. Still, I found it difficult. I would subconsciously write about the spirit world, and Zeniba’s words would ring true to my ears.

   Once you meet someone, you never really forget them.

   It seemed like for the past decade I’ve kept their traces in my heart, and in there they stayed.

<:>

   It was somewhere in autumn when I rushed into a café near my apartment, with my laptop in hand. My notes were stuffed in my backpack. I let out a sigh of relief after settling in my favorite spot: the one which exposed the array of bright buildings where the river was once located. From here I could easily point the exact position of my apartment. I tied my hair back with the purple band I’ve kept ever since I was ten, and I proceeded to work.

   “Look behind you!” a deep voice cried.

   Out of instinct I obliged, and my eyes widened upon seeing a white piece of cloth fly to my direction. I caught it in the nick of time, and I could’ve sworn one of the two waiters chuckled.

   The one who didn’t approached me, and I couldn’t help but stare. The way he walked was familiar, and even if his hair was short and waxed, making it stand up in the right places, I couldn’t help but remember someone else.

   “I’m sorry, we were messing around,” he explained, when he was finally standing up in front of me. “Did you get hurt?”

   I looked at his stoic eyes, which withheld its warmth perfectly. His lips displayed a slight smile. My eyes strayed from his face and I managed to take a glance at his nametag. I shook my head, and I was aware that tears were beginning to form in my eyes.

   “No, I didn’t,” I replied, my voice breaking a little at the last syllable. “I’m just glad you told me to look back on time.”

   He flashed me a quick smile. “This is our little secret, okay? We’ll give you something. It’s on the house.”

   “But of course,” I answered, grinning. “It’s our little secret.”

   He took my order, and he walked into the kitchen with such accuracy and grace. I took one last look at the buildings outside before I carried on with my task.

   His name was Haku.

*This is inspired by this post in tumblr.