Disclaimer: Somewhere over the rainbow, I own the Spirited Away DVD. But really, they all belong to Hayao Miyazaki.
Real
I never expected to ever see her again. Not after 15 painful years of trying, then giving up with no more hope left. Who was to know if she'd forgotten me, forgotten me and moved on...
So you could probably imagine my surprise when she happened to show up on the bridge again, peering over the side at the disappearing train, exactly the way we met when she was ten. She looked practically the same as before, yet so incredibly different. Her hair was exactly the same; mousy and brown, held together by the same sparkly purple band made by Boh, Kaonashi and Zeniba. Her warm, chocolate eyes, unlike before, now held a wiser light shining from them. I could go on and on...
She held her hand out to me. I stared at it, unsure of what to do, and looked up at her face. The smile on her face was hopeful as she stared at me. I couldn't bring myself to move. What if she was just a figment of my imagination? If that were to be so, I wouldn't be able to stand it.
Her smile waned. I saw slivers of silver tears appear at the corners of her eyes, as I felt my own teardrops fall across my face.
Suddenly she was slowly moving forward towards me. My body was frozen as she slipped her arms around my waist, and my hands lifted of their own accord to rest around her shoulders.
"You promised," she whispered softly, almost accusingly.
"I know I did," I whispered back, resting my chin on the top of her head.
"Then keep it," she said, her arms tightening around me.
I struggled the keep the rest of the tears in check as I thought about those three words and how I failed to keep the one promise in my life. "How?" I choked out, feeling the hopelessness wash over me.
It was then, when she finally pulled away from me. She scrutinized me with a calculating look on her face, until her smile blossomed into a broad grin. "Just come back with me," she told me, linking one tiny hand through mine, tugging me down the bridge, away from Aburaya.
With a gentle smile gracing my lips, I followed.
He bolted up from his bed as he was forcefully jerked out of his sleep. He stared down at his violently shaking hands. Was it really a dream? Had she finally become a figment of his imagination? What was he to do now; give up or keep on trying?
It felt so real though. He could almost feel her arms around his waist, smell the sweet chamomile shampoo from her hair, her face pressed into his chest...
...However, nothing was real anymore. It never was...
Feeling his world reel about him, he broken-heartedly sobbed into his hands, oblivious to the world around him as it to him...
A/N: I have no idea where that came from, but I'm thinking of continuing this. Feedback/review, please?