Welcome to the final final chapter! I found this chapter extremely difficult to write. It was hard to think of where I would go with this ending, but I really hope you all find it okay. If you don't like it, sorry about that. I did the best I could.
Side note: Someone asked me where I got Hebi's name from. 'Hebi' is actually the Japanese word for 'snake'. Not very inventive, I know, but ah well.

Thank you to all my reviewers, loyal readers and you, for clicking onto this story right now. Couldn't do it without you. - Léa

Whispers On The Wind
Chapter 7: End

When someone has a dream, like to become famous or be the first person to stand on Mars, more often than not it doesn't work out. However, every now and then it does happen to a person. A goal they have worked hard to achieve does happen, and the sense of achievement is unrivalled.

That's kind of like my story. It also it kind of isn't.

Ever since I met that strange man in the forest of the Mountain God, he has been a big part of my life. I'd spend every day of every summer in his company, forgetting the struggles of this difficult world and just having fun. He was my escape.

When I lost him, I was somehow so happy and so sad at the same time. Gin had finally achieved his dream in the end – to be able to have skin-on-skin contact with a human being. He had been so happy. I had been as well; glad he was able to finally do what he wanted to do.

And yet, why did I feel so empty?

I had chased after a near-impossible goal for half a decade, for all of my adult life so far.

And it had finally happened.

But it wasn't a sense of achievement that I felt, instead it was relief. I had Gin back, all was fine. I wanted to hold onto him until my knuckles turned white and never let go.

I loved him. I will always love him.

When I first became a spirit, I was startled to how different it felt. The world was as sharp as a pin, my senses going into overdrive as I could hear every insect walk across the leaf they stood on and I registered every movement of the millions of blades of wild grass surrounding us.

The air I breathed in seemed fresher and colder, with every breath like nectar to my lungs.

I stood there for what seemed like forever, smiling, squeezing Gin's hand tightly as his fingers intertwined with mine. I was speechless at the new way I saw the world, and Gin picked up on my awe and grinned.

"I know. Amazing, isn't it?" He said.

Night had well and truly fallen now, leaving us with the only the small lights of the many hovering fireflies. The only noises we could hear were the faint sounds of the cicadas in the darkness.

I looked up to study Gin's maskless face. The first time I saw his face, it startled me how normal he really looked. He had a face like any human - I'd guessed as much even before I peeked behind his mask all those years ago - and his face was so normal and yet so abnormal at the same time. Seeing his face became a gift. His pale skin and eyes that seemed to change colour when seen in different light. Golden, pale green or silvery grey that shone with a kind of mystery and intelligence.

Initially, Gin was unsure of his opinion on my new spirit form. He didn't voice his thoughts, however, knowing full well I'd just argue. I think deep down he was glad. There was nothing between us now: no invisible, impenetrable wall that prevented us from touching. Neither of us were alone any more.

As the days passed, everything changed. The other spirits looked on, as happy as I was that Gin had returned to the forest. The days seemed brighter. Life seemed better.

We spent our days doing what we used to do every summer: enjoying each other's company. The things we filled the days with now weren't the same as back then though – instead of playing we'd do things like sit by the river, listening to the sound of the water running past us. Every now and then we'd make little boats out of leaves and race them downstream like we used to. We were carefree, happy to just exist together.

I didn't age now, just as Gin didn't either. We looked roughly the same age, but that didn't matter. As that old saying goes, age was just a number. We were both in the prime of our lives and we would be forever it seemed.

Both Gin and I were weary of humans, knowing that if one touched either of us we'd be lost from the world.

I was still getting used to that. Remembering that I was now more spirit than human.

Years passed. Our strength grew. I would have thought that being virtually immortal would have meant that our existence was one huge blur, but instead it remained clear. I could remember every individual day I'd spent with Gin and I was thankful for every one.

As the days came and went, we used to wander to the edge of the forest, to the stone gate where my now elderly uncle sometimes left things for me. I was grateful to still be remembered by those outside the forest. I'd leave flowers or the little leaf boats for him sometimes, though never seeing him face to face again.

One day, nothing was left. I knew in my heart that my uncle had died. He had, I knew, lived to a grand old age and I missed him. I couldn't attend the funeral – the risk of human contact was too great – but Gin and I had our own small ceremony by the river that day.

My uncle had always supported me in everything I did, even when I told him I was leaving to live my life in the mysterious forest near his home.

Gin was my support, my rock, and I was his. He was everything I ever wanted, and he was all I ever needed.

I never heard from my parents, but I remembered them fondly. After fifty years or so since I became a spirit, I knew they had grown old and passed away as well. I just hoped they went peacefully, and didn't hold it against me that I left my normal life with them behind.

Over the years our role in the forest was extended past the point of just living in it. Hebi, the Mountain God, had entrusted us with the care of the other spirits, saying it was time to steadily lessen his own responsibilities. We took on more and more duties as the forest grew older, such as ensuring the spirits' care, looking after the seemingly endless trees that made up the forest and making sure humans remained outside of the forest entrance for their own good.

It was a short time after that that Hebi, the Mountain God who had looked after the forest since its birth, had faded. All things must fade in the end, and Gin and I knew this all too well. We supposed Hebi knew he was nearing his end, and had chosen us to take over of the care of the forest. We thanked him every day for the gift he gave us.

The ceremony we held for Hebi was more like a celebration of his life than a mourning of his death. The occupants of the whole forest came out to remember their protector, the trees swaying in the breeze, the bird and insects performing magnificent audible shows and fireworks that lit up the sky for the entire night.

And so here we are. Not at the end, but not at the beginning. The middle, maybe. The middle of a story seems to always be the most boring. Maybe that's what I like about it. By the story being in the middle it means that I can spend endless days with Gin. After all, that's what I've been searching for all these years.

I'm happy. Gin's happy. Together, we've never been happier.

The End