Every morning, without fail, Chihiro wakes with the sun.

The beginnings of light are just starting to stream in through her window when she pushes herself up and tiredly rubs a hand over her face. A quick glance at her alarm clock tells her it's 5:43. A little later than usual, she thinks to herself. She'll have to walk a little faster to school then.

Chihiro quickly pulls on her shorts and a t-shirt and quietly tiptoes out of the room and down the hall, careful to step around the squeaky floorboards when she nears her parent's room. A sudden pig-like snort jolts her, and her head snaps in the direction of her parent's door, but when she pauses to listen for more, she just hears the sound of deep congested breathing. Chihiro rolls her eyes, thinking, Some things you just don't grow out of, and continues on down the stairs and out the front door without further incident.

She looks down at her watch and sets the timer. Bright green numbers stare up at her. One hour, it says. That's the most she ever allows for herself. Never more, never less.

With that, Chihiro presses the START button and begins her journey down the well-worn path towards – what she hopes to be – the land of her dreams.

Not for the first time, Chihiro is left with a bitter taste in her mouth and another portion of her heart breaking to pieces as she treads up the walkway to her front door, digging around in her pocket for her keys. She spent the past hour wandering down the path, hoping maybe this time she would succeed, but like every day for the past eight years, she's had no luck.

Chihiro grumbles under her breath like a child who's been sent to her room, unlocks the door, and steps into the house. Dragging her feet over to the kitchen, she makes herself some breakfast and sits herself at the table just in time to see her father amble down the steps. He's still buttoning his shirt when he plops down in the seat across from her.

She mumbles her greeting and continues her meal, trying not to look too sullen. If he notices, he doesn't comment on it. They just sit there in silence, one spooning cereal into her mouth and the other sipping coffee.

Neither of them mentions the black hairband that's tied to her hair, taking the place of the purple one she's cherished for the past eight years.