Hello lovely people!

I recently re-watched Princess Mononoke (sob) and I thought my heart was going to explode, so I had to write this. It's just a one-shot, really simple, but it made me feel better about how emotional this movie makes me.

-crawls into a cave and cries-

I enjoyed writing it, I hope you enjoy reading it!

xoxo

You Mean Forever

"The sun hasn't even risen yet..."

"Yes, I know."

"You can't even wait until dawn, can you?"

"No. I can't sleep."

"All right. Try not to wake up the whole town, ya hear? And be careful."

"I will."

The young man stood quietly from his mat, attached a small red bag to his belt (knowing that he would likely be gone until sunset), and tied his blue tunic at the waist. He nodded quickly to the person beside him—whom he had unintentionally woken up—before stepping into his shoes and weaving his way through the throng of sleeping people. Around them lay the bases of homes, just beginning to be built. They were the rising homes of the Irontown inhabitants, as they slept on the ground by night and rebuilt their town by day. And this young man was helping them, sleeping among them, building with them. But today, he wouldn't be. For today he had somewhere else to be. In the darkness, muddied orange by the hints of the rising sun, he took a quick glance around him. Green everywhere, rolling hills and towering mountains, a sky perfectly speckled by stars. He paused, took a deep breath, let a soft smile creep onto his features. Then he continued on his way.

Though the forest was often a boat's ride away, the man never needed to use a boat. He had his best friend there with him to carry him across the river.

"Ready, Yakul?" he asked as he approached his red elk. He bobbed his head, looked into the man's eyes. The young man patted his neck before hopping onto his back, and as quietly as possible, making their way down the hill on top of which Irontown once stood (and on top of which they were currently bringing it back up). He braced himself as they entered the water, felt its cold ripples against his skin. But he didn't mind it much. By that time, he was accustomed to it. Yakul swam until they reached the other side, wet and cold, but ready to move forward.

The young man squeezed his heels ever so slightly into the elk's side, and he jumped into his graceful leaps up the rolling hills, across the grass beneath the early, early morning sky. The young man felt the wind rushing against his face, his bristly hair whipping at his cheeks, his skin pulled back against his bones. He felt himself flying, as he so often did. After so long together, when riding Yakul, it almost felt as if their bodies were one. Their individual movements, their individual breaths, came together as one. So while Yakul jumped, leaped, soared, the young man jumped, leaped, soared, with him.

They went up the hill and entered the forest, through an entrance of tall, bulky green trees and dewy leaves dripping down on top of their heads. As soon as they slipped into this cover, had escaped from the sight of the sky beneath the canopies of the trees, they slowed down. Yakul walked now, stepping over the vines and the leaves and the branches along this fresh path through the forest. The young man took another deep breath, took a moment to really feel the difference. Breathing in here was different than breathing in over in Irontown. It made his chest feel lighter, in a way. Lighter, yet heavier. He glanced around him and saw them. The tiny green figures sitting on the branches, peeking at him with their hollow eyes from beneath the leaves. He smiled up at them, lifted a hand in greeting. They tilted their heads, and he heard familiar clicking sounds. He had always taken them to be greetings.

"Wonderful to see you again, too," he told the kodama—the tree spirits. They clicked more loudly, and began running beside Yakul's hooves excitedly. Some flailed their tiny arms, others had their arms behind their backs, some rode on others' backs. It was a comforting, familiar sight, one that made the darkness of the forest less overwhelming to him.

After so many times walking through here, Yakul knew the path himself. He walked it without the kodama's guidance. But they joined them on their journey anyway. The young man listened intently to their clicks, and could hear every movement of the forest. The wind in the branches, the insects in the tree bark, the birds fluttering in their nests, the animals crawling along the dark and beautiful forest floor. Sometimes he wished he felt more at home here.

"That would make things much easier," he said to himself.

Finally, he and Yakul emerged into a clearing. The kodama dispersed among the trees, sitting contently at their trunks, while the young man dismounted from the elk. In the center of the clearing was a large, rippling pond, filled with water so clear it could have been crystal. In the center of the pond was an island that, somehow, seemed much more distant than it actually was. The young man stopped in his tracks and stared at the island for a few moments. Every time he did, he felt a rush through his body, as if it were reliving its memories there. The young man gave Yakul one last pat on the neck and continued walking forward, while the elk began to nibble on the grass and mingle with the kodama.

There, on the edge of the pond, was a silhouette. Something was lying there, covered in pure white and completely still. Without a word, the young man walked forward and sat beside it, crossed his legs, stared out at the distant island.

It was a girl. She was asleep, her delicate eyes closed and her body trembling with her breaths. Red marks adorned her soft features (soft only in sleep, he had to remind himself), brown, tangled hair fell to her neck. She held the blanket with her fingers—was perhaps dreaming, because she was still and her eyes were fluttering. The young man gazed down at her silently. He felt as if he had seen her so many times...and still, he was breathless every single time. Caught off-guard by her silent beauty.

Then, as if she could feel his gaze, the girl woke up. Her eyelids fluttered as her eyes opened, and met his. He smiled at her. She smiled back. Then she sat up in the same position as him and wrapped the blanket around her bare shoulders. A crystal dagger that hung around her neck sparkled as she held it in her hand.

"Good morning," he said.

"It's not even morning yet," she responded. But she was smiling. "You're here early."

"I couldn't sleep. So I came."

She nodded, then let her head rest on his shoulder.

"I'm glad you did," she murmured. He liked feeling the weight of her head on him. Being so close in the chilliness of the early morning felt very nice. Being close to her always made him feel like this. As if he were a child again, discovering something new and exciting and lovely.

"How is the forest?" he asked.

"Growing well."

"And your brothers?"

"Growing even better."

"That's good to hear." He realized that he had begun absentmindedly stroking her hair and leaning his cheek against the top of her head. They were breathing slowly, in and out with heavy rhythms. "Where are they?"

"Probably hunting." She still tinkered with the crystal dagger necklace. They sat in silence for a few moments, her head on his shoulder and his fingers in her hair, staring at each other and at the lake. Then she spoke again, her voice at a whisper.

"Ashitaka?"

"Yes?" He loved the way his name sounded on her tongue.

"Can I see your hand?"

They turned so that they were facing each other. He held out his right hand to her. Without looking at him, she held that hand in both of hers. She removed the cover from it, ever so gently unwrapped the cloth. He watched her unflinchingly as she did it. She caressed his hand, palm-up, in hers. There were scars there on his palm. Red, looked so fresh that they might have been from that very night. But they both knew very well that they were old scars. He smiled when she stroked those scars with the tips of her fingers.

"What do you feel when you see these scars?" she asked.

"Like I've come a long way."

"You have. You have come a long way."

"What do you feel when you see these scars?"

"I remember the first time I saw you, when you jumped on those rocks and were yelling at me and my mother. And I had blood all over my mouth because Mother had just been shot by those stupid humans. I probably looked like some kind of demon to you. And I told you to go away. And my brothers and I laughed about you later because your hat was so weird."

"I never knew you thought my hat was strange," he smiled. She was still stroking the palm of his hand, her movements growing slower and softer as she spoke. She looked up at him then, her brown eyes sparkling.

"What did you think of me when you first saw me?" she said.

"I told you exactly what I thought."

"You did? I don't remember. What was it?" He leaned forward just slightly, until she squeezed his hand and blinked.

"That you're beautiful, San."

She blinked a few more times then, closed her mouth, as if he had taken her off-guard. Then she opened her mouth, started to say something, and then closed it again. She looked so surprised that he almost laughed.

"What?" he asked.

"Ashitaka," she replied softly. "You really think I'm beautiful?"

"Of course."

"A beautiful...human?"

"Yes. You're human, aren't you?"

"Well then..." She paused. He smiled more widely at her, encouraged her to continue. "I think you're beautiful, too. I thought so when I saved you."

"Even as you held a knife to my throat?" he teased. She nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes. And I was confused because you're a human, and I'd never thought humans were beautiful before."

"Everything can be beautiful," he said. He took her hands in both of his and then, as if their minds and souls were connected, they leaned forward until their foreheads were touching. He could feel her wildness, her rage and her excitement and her knowledge of this place. He wondered if he emanated anything similar.

"You're really beautiful though," she murmured. "In your heart. The Forest Spirit felt it, too. That's why he saved your life. And I felt it. It's why I saved your life."

He squeezed her hands, and he felt her squeeze his. He wasn't sure which breath was his, where his heartbeat ended and hers began. They sat with each other on the bank of that pond, felt the warmth of the rising sun through the leaves of the trees, were aware of absolutely nothing but each other. He loved seeing her there, holding her there, and he loved that she was wearing the crystal dagger that he had given her. Just then, he felt something on his shoulder, and turned to see a kodama sitting there.

"Hello," he said to it.

"The forest likes you," San said, "even though you're human."

"I don't think the forest discriminates. It loves all life."

"Ashitaka?"

"Yes?"

"Will you stay with me in this forest?" she asked. He looked at her, face blank. "It likes you, and...and as much as I hate humans, I always hate it more to see you leave."

"I can't live in this forest. You know that," he said softly. She turned her eyes away, toward their blurry reflections in the pond, but wouldn't let go of his hands.

"I wish you could."

"But you could come live with me once Irontown is rebuilt. After all, you're—"

"Don't say it," she interrupted. "I am not like you—not like them. I'm a part of this forest. I can never live with those people. I will never forgive them."

He smiled knowingly and said nothing more. They had had this conversation before. Almost every time they saw each other it was the same. Ashitaka sometimes wondered if San would ever come to terms with the fact that she was and always would be a human. A beautiful, incredible human that had taken his breath away with one glance.

"Is the town coming along well?" she asked, if only to break the silence.

"The people there are strong. Everything will be rebuilt, perhaps better than before," he nodded. She smiled, and he couldn't really tell what that meant. She still wasn't making eye contact with him. He couldn't tell what that meant, either. There were a lot of things about San that he still couldn't discern. But he understood that that was all right. That you don't have to completely understand someone to love her.

"Are we going to be like this forever?" she asked suddenly. "Holding hands together in this forest, while the world out there keeps going?"

"I guess I can't say for certain. We must rise to meet whatever fate has been foretold to us."

"I hate when you start talking about fate," she sighed. "I can never understand what you're talking about."

He chuckled and, without really thinking about it, leaned forward on his knees and kissed her forehead. Her eyes were wide and her cheeks were red and her earrings were swinging when he looked at her again.

"You'll understand what I mean eventually. Everybody does." Then he brought her hands up to his lips. He let them sit there for an eternity. They just seemed to fit there so naturally.

"Will you lay down with me, Ashitaka? I'm tired."

"Yes. I'm a bit tired myself."

Then, as he had so many times, Ashitaka wrapped his arms around her, felt her bury her face in his chest. They lie down in the bed of grass together, so close they nearly melded into one person. He pressed his lips to her forehead and breathed there, while her fingers grasped at his tunic and she fell into his embrace.

"Can I take off your tunic?"

"If you want to."

She undid the knot at his waist and pushed the tunic off his shoulders, until there was only his blue undergarment, tied at the collar and covering his arms.

"There's no scar here," she whispered. She put the palms of her hands against his chest, and they felt cold and nearly made him flinch.

"No. It's all gone."

"It feels just like that day," she mused, "when the Forest Spirit died. Us lying here like this."

"It does, doesn't it?"

"Ashitaka?"

"Yes?"

"What will happen to the forest after we're gone?"

"It will continue to live."

"What about Irontown, after you're gone? And after Eboshi is gone?"

"It will continue to live, too. Everything keeps going, even after we're gone."

"I don't like thinking about that. Stay in this forest with me forever." She wrapped her arms around his stomach and pulled him in tight.

"Forever is a long time," he murmured.

"Exactly. That's how much you mean to me. You mean forever to me."

Ashitaka suddenly felt tears in his eyes, as he heard San tell him that she wanted to be with him forever. That he meant the world to her, that to someone like San, he was important. He held her as tightly as he could, felt her arms around him and felt the grass tickling his skin. He heard the chattering of the kodama somewhere in the distance.

"San," he said. "I love you."

"Does that mean I mean forever to you?"

"Forever and more."

"Then I love you, too."

"As a human?"

She looked up at him, and he saw that there were tears in her eyes, too. He wiped them with his thumbs. Then, San nodded. And when she smiled, it was shaky. Shaky and the most beautiful thing Ashitaka had ever seen.

"Yes. I'm a human, aren't I?"