Hello everyone! Got a sweet groove going on now. This chapter is a little slow, but it introduces some key characters and sets up a few plot points, so its necessary. Please enjoy, and as always, review if you read something you like. Tchuss!

Chapter 5: The Friends

Zeniba snapped the thread she'd been sewing with and swore. Across the room, a tall ethereal figure turned to look at her, its stark white mask almost orange in the light of the fire it was tending to.

"Uh uh." It wordlessly asked in concern. Zeniba put down her embroidery and hurried over to the large basin in the corner of her quaint cottage. She took a pitcher of water from the table and poured it in. The moment the liquid touched the polished silver, it took on a pearlescent sheen, and began to slowly swirl in a clockwise direction.

"No-face, could you please run and get the purple drawstring bag from the upper right drawer of my desk in the office?" She asked as she rustled through the pages of a massive, leather-bound spellbook. The creature nodded and swiftly glided into the adjacent room. He returned a moment later to find the old witch hunched over the basin, waving one wrinkled hand over the water as if encouraging it to spin faster and mouthing the words of a spell the simple creature could not understand. It placed the velvet bag on the corner of the table and promptly made its way into the corner to watch from a safe distance.

"That foolish girl. I placed a spell on that talisman that compelled her to keep it on her at all times, and now she's gone and lost it somehow!" She grumbled as she rummaged around in the tiny bag. Finally she pulled out a thin pink hair tie with a small knot where it had broken once before. She threw it into the shimmering basin. As it dropped into the churning water the ripples spread, creating a perfectly still, glassy surface in its wake. A wavering image began to emerge. "Hmm, the picture would have been clearer with a drop of her blood or a lock of her hair, but this will have to do."

Zeniba squinted at the fuzzy image, trying to make sense of the colors shifting and wobbling uncertainly, before realizing all at once what she was seeing. The eyes of a cat, wide and yellow, stared back at her. A weight dropped into her stomach and she staggered back, a hand pressed to her wrinkled forehead, which was suddenly covered in a cold sweat.

"Oh dear."

"Uh-uh!" No-face rushed forward to scoot a wooden chair behind the witch's knees, which she gratefully fell into. She suddenly looked pale and haggard, much more the feeble old crone than she had ever acted before.

"Oh dear." She repeated, "It's worse than I imagined."

She took a deep breath, fighting to calm the dreadful feeling that had overcome her, and smoothed back the piece of hair that had come loose from her bun. No-face hovered anxiously over her, dark hands waving uselessly in the air as she stood on unsteady feet and brushed her dress as if to wipe away the fear that had taken root.

"No-face, it's time to start making preparations. I expect we'll be having visitors soon."

Chihiro woke up with the hangover from hell. Her head was pounding, and the dying light streaming through the window made her want to gauge out her eyeballs. Not to mention the awful taste in her mouth.

She groaned and rolled onto her back, pressing her arm to her face so she could continue ignoring reality for a little longer.

"Chihiro, you've got drool on your cheek."

Chihiro slapped her hand to her mouth harder than she'd intended and immediately regretted it as the pain chased away the last hope for sleep that she had. She groaned and pulled herself into a sitting position. Across from her sat Hinata, the only other shrine maiden at the Iriguchi Shrine, in her crisp school uniform.

Hinata was classically cute, with chestnut hair that curled at her chin and big black doe eyes. She was very petite too, pale, and almost delicate looking. She wasn't particularly expressive either, maintaining an air of solemn boredom at almost all times. It was easy to compare her to a doll, until she opened her mouth that is.

"Glad to see you're finally awake. I was getting tired of waiting for you." She said in her characteristically monotone voice.

"Glad to see you're such a kind and patient person." She retorted sarcastically. She eyed her junior's attire. "In casual clothes again I see. Where's your uniform?"

The young girl popped a pocky stick she had produced from somewhere into her mouth.

"Didn't want to risk getting all your sick on it while I dragged your ass to the priests' place. Might wanna check your head, I might have dropped you on it once or twice." She said.

Chihiro froze. She put her hand to her head and slowly turned her gaze to the open window. She could just barely see the honden through the trees, looking just as it always did. A flash of orange hair, a glint of sharp nails, a tiny, wavering flame that seemed to float on the breeze.

So that wasn't a dream, that crazy nightmare really happened. Which means...I'm actually going to go broke shelling out for counseling. Not that I was flush with cash to begin with.

The tugging in her stomach which had guided her the last ten years of her life had vanished. No deja vu, no gnawing sense of forgetfulness, no compulsion to go to an unattainable location. She felt free for the first time in over a decade. It was all real, she had met the god of the shrine, and he had somehow restored her memories.

She'd been to the spirit world.

Something bubbled up in her throat, and before she could stop herself, she was laughing. Hysterical giggles turned into full on doubled over, stomach aching laughs.

"Chihiro, why the hell are you crying? Are you in pain? Do you need a doctor or something?" Hinata asked, a tinge of genuine concern in her voice. Chihiro stopped, confused. Something dripped onto the hands folded over her stomach, and she wiped the bewildering tears from her chin. That seemed to be happening often lately.

"Huh, I don't know." She answered absently. Hinata's eyebrows furrowed, and she opened her mouth to say something.

The sliding door from across the room slammed open, followed by a shriek that could have probably been heard all the way at the base of the mountain. Amaya, Chihiro's best friend since middle school, stood in the doorway, arms laden with grocery bags. Her mop of blue hair was disheveled and her dark lipstick smudged.

"My darling! You're awake!" The vibrantly colored figure exclaimed, bounding into the room at an alarming speed. A mountain of every conceivable medicine was dumped on Chihiro's lap, and before she could even question it, a warm towel was wrapped around her neck and a thermometer was forced past her lips.

"Thank goodness, you don't have a fever. How's your head? Hinata dropped you." She asked, probing Chihiro's skull for lumps. Chihiro spit out the thermometer and shooed her wandering hands away.

"I'm fine! How did you get here? And why on earth did you buy a laxative?" She asked as she pawed through the various pill bottles strewn about. Amaya crossed her arms indignantly.

"Hinata just called and said you were sick. I didn't know what to get so I just bought it all." She huffed. "After all that trouble to come to my dear friend's rescue, and I don't even get a hello! My sweet, you're so cruel!" She sniffled dramatically, wiping an invisible tear from her cheek.

"I saw you this morning." Chihiro deadpanned.

"Is it too much to ask to be constantly showered with love?"

"Yes." Chihiro paused. "Wait, how did Hinata call you? She doesn't even have your number."

Hinata tossed Chihiro's cell phone at her, which she just managed to catch before it hit her square between the eyes. "You should really consider changing your password to something other than your birthday."

Chihiro grimaced.

"So what the hell happened? First day as head priestess and you pass out on me." Hinata questions, now munching on an apple.

Chihiro shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The two of them were looking at her with such curiosity. What was she going to tell them?

Oh I just happened to meet the god of our shrine who threatened to eat me and then matrixed me into remembering that I wandered into another dimension when I was a child. No big deal.

"Oh, I think I just ate some bad fish or something. No big deal."

Smooth.

The two shared an unconvinced look, but Hinata simply shrugged. "As long as she's not actively dying, I don't really care."

"Are laxatives good for that kind of thing? I've got lots." Amaya asked the younger girl.

"You might actually kill her some day." Hinata responded with her signature dull look.

"As I was saying," Chihiro interjected, rubbing her throbbing temples, "I'm clearly fine now, so I'm just going to go and finish up my work…"

She flipped off the blanket lying over her and made to stand, but Amaya slapped a hand to her forehead and shoved it back onto the pillow like a wrestler clotheslining his opponent. Chihiro groaned, and she could hear Hinata mumbling about third degree murder in the background.

"Oh no you don't. You're going to lay there like a good patient while I grab your stuff and Hinata will take care of all that. Then I'm going to take you back to my place where we will engage in a healthy Netflix binge with appropriate sick-person snacks." She decreed. Chihiro opened her mouth to argue but the look on Amaya's face was non-negotiable.

She deflated. "Sorry Hinata, would you mind…?"

"I got it boss. Just go home before you make me have to lug your corpse across the courtyard again."

"I'm not dead."

"Yet."

A few hours later saw the two friends lying on cushions strewn about the living room floor in front of the television, surrounded by copious amounts of chocolate, popcorn, and alcohol. Amaya tried to make Chihiro a bowl of congee, but the resulting discolored sludge was so disturbing to look at that they had both deemed it unsafe to consume. After some convincing from Chihiro, Amaya decided she was well enough for normal food, which had naturally devolved into a full blown movie night. Three cups of sake in, and Chihiro was revelling in a very pleasant buzz.

"So now that I've plied you with food and drink, are you ready to tell me what really happened this afternoon?" Amaya suddenly asked. Chihiro stopped sifting through her friend's collection of old Disney VHS tapes.

"I told you, I ate some bad fish," Chihiro weakly reiterated. She thought she'd managed to cover her ass with her lame excuse, but Amaya knew her better than anyone. She should have known she wouldn't have been able to let it go so easily.

"And that bad fish caused you to faint in a cold sweat and start raving in a delirious fever dream? I don't think so." Amaya gave her a disappointed look, and poured her another glass of sake.

Chihiro looked at her, startled. "Fever dream?"

Amaya settled back and started sipping on her gin and tonic. 'Yeah. As soon as you passed out you started shouting about spirits and stuff. Scared the bejeezus out of Hinata, so she called me. If you'd just been ill she wouldn't have bothered."

Chihiro sat, dumbfounded. She was surprised that Hinata cared enough to call someone for help, the girl was always so aloof. But now she could picture how scary that must have been for her, to come to work and find your coworker writhing around on the ground screaming about nonsensical things. She'd have to remember to thank her profusely next time she saw her.

"So? You gonna spill or are we going to have to get you a psych eval?" Amaya pried. Chihiro sighed heavily. She'd barely had time to process everything that had happened. Even now she could hardly believe it herself. But at the same time, the weight of everything she'd learned was pressing down on her. She was desperate to say the words out loud, to have someone tell her that she wasn't nuts. She wanted to share, but at the same time, she was terrified that her best friend would dismiss her, just like her parents had.

"You won't believe me." Chihiro said hesitantly, staring at the cushion in front of her intensely. Amaya scoffed, and put her drink down.

"Chihiro, the minute you walked into my classroom in middle school and told Kenta Miyamoto to shove it for making fun of my freckles, I knew we were going to be best friends. And, as your best friend, I can say with certainty that you are one of the most absurdly honest people I have ever met. Even in situations where literally anyone else wouldn't, you stick to your guns. It's almost scary."

"You're one to talk." Chihiro pouted.

"Oh hush, I'm praising you, you know? Anyway, you've got no reason to lie. So go ahead and get it all out. I promise I'll listen until the end." Amaya opened her arms for a comforting hug. Big, fat tears welled up in Chihiro's eyes as she crawled into her friend's embrace.

She told her everything. Not just about her mystifying encounter with the god of the shrine, but about her harrowing experience travelling to the spirit world when she was a child. It all came tumbling out in a rush, like water bursting through a dam. About halfway through, deep wrenching sobs punctuated her story, but she didn't stop.

As the words fell from her lips they became more solid, more real. As if she had plucked them from the hazy safety of her dreams and laid them out bare on the ground. Amaya said nothing, rubbing Chihiro's arm in soothing circles while she told her story. Finally, she quieted, hiccuping softly into the silence.

Chihiro grew more and more anxious as the minutes passed and still Amaya had not said anything. She glanced up. Amaya's expression was far away, as if she were ruminating on a very old memory.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" Chihiro asked nervously. Amaya blinked out of whatever she was thinking so deeply about, and gave her friend a smile.

"You know, back when I first met you, the very first thing I thought was that you looked like you were caught up in your own world."

"Huh? What do you mean?" Chihiro had been expecting something more along the lines of, "Have you eaten any suspicious looking mushrooms lately?"

"Yeah, you were always staring off into the distance with this sad look on your face, I don't even know how I would describe it. Like you'd dropped a piece of your soul somewhere and were constantly searching for it. I guess now I know why." She explained. Chihiros heart leapt.

"You believe me? But isn't it totally nuts?" Chihiro asked incredulously. Amaya scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Of course it is. Completely outlandish. But I said I would believe you no matter what, so if you say you've seen spirits then you have." Amaya asserted. Chihiro's lip quivered, but before she could go off again, Amaya flicked her forehead. "Don't you start that again, you've always cried far too easily. If you're grateful I'd rather see your beautiful smile."

Chihiro attempted a watery half-smile. Amaya sighed and pinched her cheeks, pulling them up at the corners.

"Close enough."

At that moment, the front door swung open and in walked Satoru, Amaya's fiancé. He was a tall, broad, imposing man in his early thirties, with a starched collar and perfect posture. He was a man of few words and even fewer facial expressions, and to those who didn't know him, he was terrifying. But Chihiro knew better.

"Satoru! You're home!" Amaya sprung to her feet to greet him with a kiss at the door, and he presented her with a single white chrysanthemum, her favorite flower. Amaya squealed girlishly and threw herself at him, and Chihiro had to look away to give them some privacy.

She felt a weight settle on the top of her head, and when she reached up to grab it, she pulled down a large banana. She looked up at Satoru's normally intimidating, expressionless face, covered in kiss marks from Amaya's wine red lipstick, and burst out laughing.

"Awww, Chihiro don't laugh, he heard you were sick today so he got you some bananas! Isn't he just the sweetest?" Satoru looked away, the slightest hint of a blush on his cheekbones. Chihiro calmed down.

"Oh my god the cutest." Chihiro mimicked. The blush deepened. How adorable. "Congratulations on your promotion Detective, Amaya told me all about it."

Satoru bowed as Amaya rushed to clean up the mess they'd made on the living room floor. "The youngest in his department! I should make something extra special for dinner tonight to celebrate!"

Satoru looked at her in alarm, and Chihiro jumped in, thinking of the indescribable slime that was her congee attempt only hours before. "How about I make something? As a thank you for letting me stay here for awhile."

"Mmmmm, Chihiro's cooking! Even better. I think I'm craving curry." She beamed as she pranced into the kitchen with arms full of trash and alcohol bottles."

Satoru breathed a sigh of relief once she'd left the room. Chihiro patted his arm comfortingly, "You're going to starve once you're married."

"Worth it." He responded shortly. Chihiro smiled.

"Go wash your face, I can't take you seriously."

Later that night in her futon in the living room, full of bananas and spicy curry, Chihiro stared at the ceiling. She was so grateful to have a friend as good as Amaya, someone who would listen to her and believe in her without question. Chihiro was not unaware of how unusual that was, how precious. But then, Amaya had always been extraordinary, whatever she did.

Amaya was one of those rare people that genuinely didn't care what others thought of her. She was bold, and weird, and entirely unapologetic. She totally rejected the strict, conformist nature of japanese society and chose to live exactly how she pleased; dying her hair vibrant colors, getting multiple piercings, and making a living as a gallery artist.

Satoru was her exact opposite, a reserved and buttoned up police officer. And yet they were the perfect match. Really, a romance like everyone dreams.

A vision of jade eyes seemed to be staring back at her from the white ceiling, eyes sharp with an intellect far too keen for the childish face they belonged to. Her heart panged at the memory and she groaned, rubbing her face to remove the image.

Ridiculous. I was a kid! There's no way I could've had those kinds of feelings way back then. Besides, he probably doesn't even remember me anymore.

She closed her eyes, willing sleep to come to her. But even as she drifted off, she imagined herself flying on the back of a white dragon towards a familiar and wondrous dream.