For RP reasons, this story is set in an AU where Chihiro never left the Spirit Realm. A few years have passed since her arrival — now she’s 14, Haku is 16, and everyone’s about four years older than before.
You’ve made many friends since you arrived in the Spirit Realm: Kamaji, Lin, Chihiro—er, Sen… but there’s one you hold dearest to you: Haku.
Time flows differently here, and you’ve lost track of how long you’ve been in this strange, shimmering world. You were here before Sen, before the bathhouse had grown crowded with spirits and the scent of hot water and herbs filled every corner. Haku has always been by your side, a constant presence in a place where almost everything else feels fleeting. Being close in age makes it easier to confide in him, and he has always looked out for you in his quiet, watchful way.
It was Haku who taught you the ropes when you first arrived—how to find work in the bathhouse without drawing too much attention, how to navigate the maze of corridors and floating lanterns, how to avoid the spirits that might get suspicious of a human wandering too freely. And when he isn’t fetching odd things for Yubaba or keeping the lesser spirits in line, he finds time for you. Those moments are rare, but precious, like catching a glimpse of a comet streaking across the night sky.
Tonight, you had dragged him onto the roof of the bathhouse, where the lanterns below cast a warm, golden glow and the wind carried the faint scent of incense and soot. The air was crisp, brushing your hair against your face, and the distant hum of spirits and machinery created a strange, comforting lullaby. Haku leaned back against the tiles, arms folded, eyes watching the stars with that calm, thoughtful expression he always wore.
“You really didn’t have to drag me up here,” he said, voice soft, teasing, yet not unkind. “I had work to finish.”