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English
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Published:
2020-03-31
Updated:
2020-06-18
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19,907
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3/?
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A Lonely Sky

Summary:

Not all days will be simple. A lesson Chihiro learned when her town was attacked, driving her into a world of spirits and magic she had apparently visited eleven years ago. But fate is sometimes funny, and Chihiro soon finds herself involved in mysterious plots and rivalries. Not to mention getting tangled up with a mysterious and handsome man she feels inexplicably drawn to.

Notes:

I’ve recently re-watched Spirited Away since I suddenly have a large amount of spare time, and was inspired after a long time away from writing to start again.
Any feedback is welcomed since I'm hoping to be able to write my own books at some point, so I'm always looking for something to help me improve my writing.
This is my first time posting on AO3 so sorry is there's any formatting mistakes.
Hope you enjoy.

Chapter 1: The Calm Before the Storm

Chapter Text

Chihiro Ogino was a woman of twenty-two years of age with a recently earned Master’s degree in Biology under the rigorous training of one of the best researchers in the country. She spent the last year hunching over Petri dishes: pipetting microbes, hoping against all hope that the little cells would begin to multiply. Eventually, they had, earning her the valid argument that the strain was infectious, paving the way for her thesis. She was in the top ranking for archery in her prefecture, an award-winning short story writer, and could hold conversations in three languages.

She was also currently fighting a window.

And she was losing.

The latch once again tore from her hands as another gust of wind caught the glass like a sail. She winced as she heard the frame crack into the bricks of the outer wall.

A muffled call from her mother came from downstairs, “Chihiro, don’t forget to pull the banner in before the rain starts, you know that Mrs Okai wanted to...” A deep roll of thunder swallowed up any other words.

Chihiro glanced up at the thick blanket of grey clouds hanging above her head and felt a droplet of rain land on her cheek.

“I know!” Chihiro called back, as she swiped the water from her face. Shaking her head, Chihiro leaned out of her bedroom window again, grasping for the latch that sat mockingly out of reach. Not a day had gone by in the past week where her mother hadn’t mentioned the Sun Festival, which wasn’t a surprise since her mum had finally achieved her goal of becoming the youngest head of the organising committee, beating out Mrs. Okai, the local flower shop owner.

Tomorrow would be the highlight of the town’s calendar: a celebration dedicated to the sun and the harvest brought to the village. When the sun reached its highest point, farmers would take to the streets and toss blessed rice into the doorways of homes and businesses, before they made their way to the farms where they would sow the rest of the rice. Songs would carry on late into the night and copious amounts of food eaten from dangerously over-filled fold out tables in the street, all in honour of the spirit of the sun.

It was just a bit ironic, Chihiro thought, given the current weather.

Cold metal brushed against her fingertips and she used her other hand to push up on the low windowsill as she leant out to reach the handle.  The light speckles of rain that had been gradually beginning to fall was quickly turning to a downpour; water dripped down Chihiro’s arm, and the handle almost slipped out of her grip as the frigid water bit into her skin. With a firm tug, the window swung back towards Chihiro. The hinges howled along to another deep growl of thunder.

Before the frame could kiss the jamb, a great blast of fiercely cold wind funnelled down the alley between the houses. The window was torn back towards the wall, and Chihiro, who still hung half outside of the house, was pulled with it. Her hips slammed into the windowsill as she dropped her hands away, trying to grasp onto something to stop her fall as her weight tipped her forward and out.

Bricks slapped sharply against her hands, and she teetered in the open space of the window.

She balanced on the windowsill, her sock-covered toes brushing the floor. The almost miraculous grip she had found on a slim gap between bricks the only thing that kept her from sliding any further towards the two-story drop.

Slowly, gingerly, and with the greatest care Chihiro had ever applied to anything in her life, she began to push herself back into the house. Her feet met solid wood, and she scrambled against the windowsill as she slid backwards into a heap on the floor, grateful her hands never slipped from their small refuge.

“That was close,” she murmured to herself. Her heart hammered in her chest, and a strange tingling had started behind her ears. She definitely wouldn’t have walked away from that fall without injury; concrete paved the entire alleyway, which she wagered would have had little give under her much softer and more vulnerable body.

Her hands stung from their harsh meeting with the wall, and her left wrist burned. Irritated, red skin had risen underneath her purple hair tie, as if the threads had burnt the skin underneath. The tie itself was going threadbare, and as she prodded her wrist, Chihiro pulled at an unravelling fibre as she waited for her heart to slow. She always felt she should know where she bought the little hair tie. When she thought about it, she caught the impression of an ocean and the earthy smell of salt and herbs. She thought it was perhaps from a long-forgotten holiday when she was much too young to remember. Though when she had asked her parents about it, they hadn’t known of any beach holiday, or any other holiday, where she might have gained it. The tie seemed to have just appeared one day, as if by magic, and she had used it ever since.

Chihiro rubbed her wrist one last time, figuring she jolted it when she caught herself, then pushed her sopping wet hair from her face. Rain had soaked through the back of her t-shirt, making it stick uncomfortably to her skin. She stood carefully from the wet floor – she’d had enough accidents today, thank you very much.

Stripping off her shirt, Chihiro shuffled through a pile of clothes dumped on her desk chair until she found a similar shirt wrapped in a towel. She threw the towel down onto the rain splattered floor, resolving to deal with the mess later. Luckily, since she had long moved out of her parents’ home to her own apartment nearer to the city, most of her childhood things had been moved out of her old room into storage. She wasn’t a fan of trying to fix water damage, something she learned after the time her dad had burst a sink pipe in the bathroom, leaving her to salvage as many of her favourite bath-things as possible (including a rather expensive bath-salt collection from her sixteenth birthday, which, sadly, hadn’t survived).

She was mostly glad not to have ruined the drawings from her younger, and much wilder, imagination that once lined the windowsill. Her collection had included framed pictures of wide-eyed soot balls, a man with a multitude of arms reaching into a wall of draws, and a pair of old twin sisters, one with a much kinder face than the other. But in the centre of them all had been her favourite: a white dragon with flowing green mane, its thin body curling and twisting in a bright sky above an expanse of ocean; an island city of twinkling yellow lights depicted far below in the distance. Even now, she could picture it tucked safely away on the wall of her office in her apartment. Golden afternoon sunlight would filter through the blinds and glint off the painting, making it seem as if the ocean waves still rolled and the dragon’s eyes flickered. She took a strange comfort in thinking that the painted dragon watched over her.

There was another rumble of thunder. The storm would be directly overhead soon.

Reluctantly, Chihiro turned back towards the window. Before she could step closer, there was a loud clatter, and Chihiro watched as the window swung itself closed. Even the latch fell into place, barring out the storm now fully raging.

She crossed the room and touched the latch, not sure what she was expecting. But it was still solid under her hand and as cold and damp from the rain as before. Nothing was different. But she was sure she had just watched the window close itself. There was no way it could have fallen when the wind had torn it so harshly from her hands before. Chihiro prodded the glass, not sure if she had just imagined it, but the window stayed firmly closed under her fingertip. The wind direction must have changed, she reasoned, and knocked the window closed with enough force to unsteady the latch; it wasn’t uncommon for the storms around the town to become frenzied, sometimes nearing typhoon conditions, unpredictable. Chihiro could already see black clouds rolling in from over the forest to the south, blocking any residue sunlight that had been fighting its way to the ground. The air hung hot and heavy despite the rain already falling.

As she gazed out of the window, something moved in the corner of her eye, but when she looked, there were only the swaying trees of the dark forest behind her parent’s house. The trees bowed in the wind, the leaves twisting and flashing like the scales of some great beast woken by the storm. Dark shadows nestled in the gaps between trees. For a moment, Chihiro thought she saw the outlines of two people stood together. They looked to be just inside the tree-line, huddled together against the rain with their heads bowed low towards each other. She squinted and wiped away the fog on the glass; she had leant forwards without realising, too focused on making out the shapes. 

They were gone.

Only murky wood beyond the edge of the forest was visible between the two large and withering oak trees where the figures had stood. And as much as Chihiro squinted, she couldn’t make out any person-shaped silhouettes.

It was likely just some hikers hiding from the rain. The weather forecast hadn’t predicted the storm. And it was uncountable the number of times she herself had stumbled home from that same forest, soaked to the bone and sloshing in her hiking boots, all thanks to a sudden rain shower.

The skin behind her ears was tingling again, and she couldn’t quite shake a twisting in her stomach. It was probably nothing, and Chihiro put her unsettled feelings down to the near-death experience and her still slightly spinning head from hanging out of the window. But the image of the two bent forms stayed with her.  Hikers or not, Chihiro felt the sudden need to put as much distance between herself and the window as possible.

Heavy footsteps came from the stairs. Chihiro came out of her room at the same time her mum made it upstairs. She was leaning heavily with an arm wrapped around the banister, and her harsh breaths rattled in her chest from the short climb. Chihiros’ heart painfully constricted as she rushed over to grab her mum’s other arm for support.

It took a few more steadying breaths before her mum shook off Chihiro’s supporting arm. She still clutched at the banister and didn’t move away from the stairs, though.

“Did you bring the flag in yet?” She asked, waving Chihiro away when she lost her balance and teetered dangerously forward before correcting herself.

“Mum, you shouldn’t be worrying about this. I was just about to bring it in, why don’t you go sit down?”

“Sit down? Do you think I can sit down when Mrs. Okai will use any excuse to take over as head next year? Even a few damp decorations will be enough to set that silly old woman off. Sitting down is the only thing I’ve been allowed to do for months. I suddenly feel the need to stand every minute of the day.” Her mum’s jaw set in a hard line and Chihiro knew better than to ask again. Or mention that her mother and Mrs. Okai were almost the same age.

Her mother’s health had deteriorated rapidly after a terrible bout of pneumonia over winter. And it was the main reason Chihiro had moved back home with her parents. With her dad working most hours of the day at the train station and not in the best of health himself (a long-held diet of junk food being the main culprit), Chihiro was the one left to look after her mum.

“I’ll go pull the flag in if you relax,” Chihiro said, before smiling impishly. “Who knows what trouble would happen if Mrs. Okai was in charge next year. Imagine if we had to have red confetti instead of blue.”

Her mum narrowed her eyes. “Don’t take that tone. You know what she’s like about food. She keeps slipping recipes into my record books. Some self-proclaimed guru from Mumbai or wherever suggesting you should imagine the cinnamon flavour of a cinnamon cake since the real thing will disturb your natural energy waves. And don’t think your favourite fish buns would be spared.”

Chihiro’s mum carried on in a high, mocking voice as she waved her hand as if to ward off some unseen evil spirits in the air around her head, “Fish unbalances the soul and is the progenitor of all intestinal problems, and only an aquamarine crystal exposed to three full moons will counter the effect.” Chihiro grimaced. She’d never been a fan of the whole spiritual take on life, something she clearly inherited from her mother. A love of food was also something she inherited from both her parents, and the thought of a medicinal and crystal infused feast was not something she enjoyed.

Her mum straightened herself and let go of the banister, seemingly reenergised in her ire at the thought of Mrs. Okai’s interference. “I’ll close the rest of the windows if you go and pull that flag in. The rain seems to be stopping but it probably won’t be for long; it looks like this storm is going to stay over us for a while.”

“Fine,” Chihiro said as her mum made her way into the spare bedroom. “But I’m cooking dinner and you’re going to sit and watch that awful gossip show.” Her mum made no reply or gave any acknowledgement that she had heard. Chihiro rolled her eyes at her stubborn mother and shuffled towards the hallway window. The storm had gentled somewhat for the moment, though a soft drizzle was still whipped about by the wind. She unclipped the flag from the flower box and hauled it inside. The flag itself was made from a cheerfully bright blue fabric with the image of a sun printed boldly in the centre. Across the bottom read:

Hitemeo Town Sun Festival: Blessed be the Sun that Warms Us!

 It was also thoroughly soaked, and a puddle began to build where it dripped. Chihiro tossed it to the floor where it landed with a wet slop. She turned again to the open window and took a moment to look out.

The window looked out onto the street. Bunting, adorned in an identical style to the flag, bowed between lampposts and dangled down the sides of buildings where the wind took it up and twirled it. Hooks for balloons swung from gutters and gates, waiting for the wrapping of colourful string that would anchor down blue and white balloons in the day to come – if the weather improved, that is. Chihiro almost wished it wouldn’t.

Usually, she and her childhood best friend, Mimi, would procure a couple of bottles of sake and sit out on the balcony at Mimi’s parents’ house. They would watch the feast on the street below, drinking, talking, and stuffing themselves with food they would take turns collecting from the creaking over-laden tables below.

Every year the mayor, red in the face from wine and laughter, would pull his wife from her seat and spin her around the street in some semblance of a dance, his deep chesty laugh and her girlish giggles reverberating off the buildings. The people gathered for the festival would clap along as they went twirling and jigging their way between the tables until those more inclined to dance would spring from their seats to join, dragging along those seated near them. Others, who perhaps had eaten or drank a little too much, would watch happily from their seats, occasionally cheering in encouragement as a family member or friend passed by their table.

Mimi and Chihiro would clap along from the balcony before settling back into their seats and carrying on whatever conversation they had been having. Except last year Mimi had remained silent before suddenly interrupting Chihiro, who had been in the middle of championing why they should re-watch their favourite drama again that night, instead of getting enough sleep.

“I’m leaving,” Mimi had said, “for good.”

Chihiro had turned to her friend, who stared down at the people, mostly, turning in time with the beat. Laughter drifted up to them over the music. “What do you mean, when did you decide this? Not that you can’t decide things without me, it’s just that you usually tell me when you’re planning a trip.”

“Not a trip, Chihiro. I mean that I’m getting on a plane tomorrow and I’m not coming back. I’m going to America.” Mimi looked away from the street and turned to Chihiro. Her dark eyes were twinkling from a mixture of the fairy lights wrapped on the balcony railing and excitement.

She took a deep breath before continuing in a rush, “I’ve met someone. He’s incredible; I know that you’d love him. We're going to live with his family for a while, just at first, then move to the West Coast, near LA. I know this is sudden, but you know how much I’ve always wanted to be an actor, and this is the perfect time.”

Chihiro had been taken aback by the sudden turn of the conversation. “But how did you meet him, and why haven’t you mentioned him before now? I kind of feel like this is something you’re meant to tell your best friend, especially when you decide to move across continents for him. And what do you mean by not coming back, what about your parents? The success rate for new actors in LA is exceedingly low,” Chihiro rambled. They had always talked about going away to live in some far off place: Paris, South America, some isolated beach in the Bahamas. Anywhere away from the little town that was lit up around them. But this had been all too sudden. Add in a boyfriend Chihiro hadn’t known about, and it left her feeling very much out of water.

Mimi smiled affectionately at Chihiro and squeezed one of Chihiro’s hands between her own. “I met him during a workshop at the university. You know the one about Shakespeare’s drama in modern society?” Chihiro nodded. Mimi had been so excited about it, and Chihiro now wondered if that had been due to more than just reciting prose.“Well, his name’s Liam, and we got talking after the class and started meeting up when we could. You’d already left for the summer holiday, so it was nice to be able to spend time with someone. He was so charming and fun, but I think I fell in love with him because he’s so kind to everyone he meets. He once helped this woman carry home her shopping home when he was walking me back to the dorm.”

Chihiro tuned out for a moment as Mimi carried on about this mystery boyfriend’s various kind deeds. Out of all the guys Mimi had dated, Chihiro had never heard her admit that she loved any of them. She hardly even said it to her doting parents. It was at that moment Chihiro had known it was serious and that her friend would follow this person anywhere, even away from her home town. And Chihiro.

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think it was going to get this serious so quickly.” Mimi had said and Chihiro turned her full attention onto her friend again. “Besides, you’ve been so busy with your research paper. I didn’t want anything to distract you.” That had stung. Chihiro hadn’t thought she had been so focused on her research that she’d neglected her friend, making Mimi feel as if she couldn’t even talk to her.

“And what about not coming back here?” Chihiro asked softly when Mimi paused and started to fidget. She’d always fidgeted when she was hiding something.

“I...the thing is he can’t come here. His student visa runs out next week, and he won’t be able to come back to Japan for the next few years for international movement reasons. Also, the flights between America and Japan are so expensive. I couldn’t believe it when I looked. You know how it is, especially with Liam and I both being Arts students, we’re not exactly raking in anything.” Mimi had laughed at her own joke, though it had come out higher than her usual laugh, more forced, Chihiro had noticed. “That’s why I can’t come back, at least for now. We can’t afford it, and to be honest, I don’t want to be without him, even if it’s just for a week.”

Chihiro wasn’t convinced, but before she could ask anything further, Mimi had turned away with a bottle of sake and, foregoing a cup, took a long swig.

“Look, your mum and dad are dancing!” Mimi laughed as she pointed down onto the street.

Mimi had brushed off any attempt Chihiro made at bringing the subject back up, instead pointing and laughing at something interesting on the street below until Chihiro stopped trying.

The next day, Mimi had got into a taxi, refusing both her parents and Chihiro’s offers to drive her to the airport, and was gone. Chihiro had tried calling, texting, emailing, online messaging, but they had all been left unanswered. It was as if Mimi had just disappeared from Earth. Even Mimi’s parents hadn’t heard anything, and after a failed missing person report, Chihiro had stopped pestering them for any sign of her friend.

The only consolation they had had was two letters delivered on New Year’s Eve: one to Chihiro, and one to Mimi’s parents. The paper had been weighted and thick, the monogram L.G. printed in gold at the bottom; the sort of stationary a high-end executive might use. Mimi’s small, neat handwriting filled the paper, relating how she was doing very well and had settled wonderfully into her new home. She had even managed to land a few major side-roles her agent had told her could lead to a breakthrough in some upcoming movie or T.V show. She also wrote about how much she was in love with Liam, how well they were doing together, and how much his family loved her, and she loved them. There was so much affection in the letter. To the point that Chihiro had almost felt like an interloper reading it – as if she was peeking at someone’s love letter when they weren’t looking. There was no invitation to come and see Mimi and her new life, and there was no mention of her coming home any time soon.

Chihiro had stuffed the letter into the back of a draw in her study, and that was where it had remained untouched for almost six months.

The thought of the Sun festival had been soured for Chihiro by Mimi’s abrupt departure. Instead of a day to look forward to getting drunk with her best friend, it had become a reminder of Chihiro’s loneliness. Making new friends had always been a struggle for her. Throughout high school and university, she had kept to herself. Too shy to talk to others and too quiet to be noticed, she disappeared into the background – a set piece for other people’s lives. Mimi had been the one to charge into Chihiro’s life at age eleven and drag her along to any parties or social activities she was going to. Chihiro, who had been new to the town at the time, had happily gone along with it, and they had been inseparable ever since.

Until now, Chihiro reminded herself. She pushed back the memories that had swarmed in at the sight of the decorations. This wasn’t the time to be thinking of the past. She was happy for Mimi, she truly was, and glad she was living up to her life-long ambition of becoming an actress. She just wished she could have been a part of it.

A cold breeze whistled in through the window and danced along Chihiro’s arms, making her shudder and effectively cutting off any thoughts. Being careful not to lean too far, she pulled the window closed. It clicked smoothly into place without incident.

Collecting the flag from where it had been building its own pond (she would have to mop that up later, though she doubted she would remember to), Chihiro ducked into her room and gathered up the towel and drenched shirt before trudging downstairs to the dryer. For a moment, her eyes had been drawn to her bedroom window as she scooped up the towel, and the memory of the two figures had reappeared. They had disturbed her more than she wanted to admit; their hunched backs and shadowed faces had seemed almost intentional, as if they hadn’t wished to be seen by anyone in the town. She thought about mentioning it to her parents but immediately decided against it; there was no point worrying them. Her mum was already stressed enough with finalising plans for the Festival the next day and Chihiro had no intention of adding to it, especially with her mum in a weakened condition, despite her denial of it. Her near fall would also undoubtedly slip out, and she didn’t want to worry them. She had always been clumsy – granted not usually fall-out-of-a-window clumsy, but close enough to it that the incident hadn’t concerned her too much. Tripping and dropping things was normal affair for her, but she always seemed to get lucky, never breaking anything or falling too hard. She was charmed, Mimi used to tell her, and Chihiro privately agreed.

She threw her armful in for a quick cycle and wandered into the kitchen. The hands of the clock on the wall had just reached half-past five, so Chihiro began to pull out pots and ingredients, having decided on a simple pasta dish.  As she was adding diced onion into the hot pan, her mum walked into the kitchen and began to unpeel the garlic. They chatted lightly about the storm and festival the next day. Chihiro was reprimanded for leaving puddles in the hallway, and Chihiro reminded her mum that she wasn’t meant to be helping with dinner. They fell into a comfortable silence as the pan hissed and a pot of spaghetti bubbled noisily. Sweet, fragrant drafts of onion, garlic, and tomato drifted through the room.

At about ten-to-six the front door creaked open and then closed softly. There was a shuffling from the hallway, and Chihiro’s dad appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. He was a large man with hair now more grey than brown and fine laugh lines around his kindly eyes; his advancing age suited him well. His red train station uniform was creased from a long day’s work maintaining the tracks.

“How are my two favourite ladies this evening?” He asked, dropping a kiss onto Chihiro’s head, then one onto his wife’s cheek.

Idle talk and laughter filled the kitchen. They listened about the day at the station, and Chihiro and her dad exchanged exasperated glances as her mum complained half-heartedly about the plans that would have to change if the rain didn’t end, both knowing she would welcome the challenge. They served the food and ate happily, enjoying each other’s company as a family. Chihiro loved her family dearly, and though she sometimes wished she could be back at her apartment and leading her own life, these small moments of contentment made the temporary loss of independence worth it.

Plates were soon empty and they leant back in their chairs in a satisfied ease that could only be achieved through good food. The washing up was left to Chihiro’s insistent dad, so she and her mum settled themselves in the living room, a mindless quiz show playing on the TV. Chihiro’s dad soon joined them and he slid onto the settee, his arm wrapped around her mum who nestled into him.

The evening passed quietly. The occasional reminder of the storm battered at the windows whilst the weatherman that popped up during adverts – his suit slightly ill-fitting at the shoulders and his unnaturally white teeth glinting in an even more unnatural smile – assured them that the storm would move away to the east in the night. Chihiro soon found her eyes drooping closed, and the sentences of the people on the TV becoming indistinct and disjointed.

After saying her goodnights to her parents, Chihiro dragged her feet upstairs and into her room. She drew the curtains against a dark sky that was already beginning to clear of rain and slowly pulled herself into her pyjamas. She snuggled down under her duvet. No thought of falling out of windows or strange shadows occurred to her; they had been eagerly forgotten for now.

She slept peacefully. It would be the last time for a while.