The River God

No own, no sue. Thank you.

We gods don't really see time the same way mortals see it. I suppose, then, it would have been about seven days since I left Zeniba's place to find my own way. I stuffed my hands in my pockets and continued to trudge along, kicking up dust as I went. It would have been faster to fly, but since I didn't know where I was going, speed wasn't an issue.

I had ventured out of the spirit pocket into the mortal world about four days ago, but I had kept myself discreet and unnoticeable. I didn't want to meet anyone; I didn't want to talk; I certainly didn't want to get into any fights. I took after the majority of my kind—peaceable, tranquil, and tolerant, unless something roused our ire. My little temper tantrum at Yu-Babaa's was a mild example of that.

To amuse myself, I studied the passing mortals. They looked all alike at first, with two of everything (except mouths, for which I was grateful since the constant chatter nearly drove me crazy the first couple days), hair of decidedly muted colors, skin that varied only on a limited spectrum. I actually grew rather bored at first.

But upon closer examination, I realized that they were as unique and diverse as the gods, just on a far more subtle scale. Some had wide faces, other thin, still others heart-shaped, and a rare one who was missing an eye or an ear, or had a break in their lip, or even without a limb. I was always fascinated by this loss of symmetry, though the humans around me seemed to think of it as a curse. I didn't bother correcting their assumptions. Angels and demons were all gods in the end, and if they thought asymmetry was the mark of a demon—well, they weren't too far from the truth. Most gods detested sameness. They liked being flashy, bright, unique, and as different from each other as possible. It was sort of a weird competition.

I shrugged my shoulders whenever presented with such an inane rivalry. I liked how I looked. I had no reason to make myself into something I was not. It was, again, another characteristic of my kindred—that of the one-way flow, of stubbornness, of linearity.

It was on this path that I met the river god.

"I remember you," he rumbled with a smile. The water around him shivered as he spoke. "You were in that spa I went to, to get cleaned up."

I blinked. "You were at Yu-Babaa's place?"

"Yu-Babaa's sento, yes, that was where I was." He leaned forward on his elbows, his lower half still submerged. The riverbank was like his desk. "The humans around me had gotten very messy, and had thrown all sorts of things into my waters. I tried very hard to pick it all up and flush it away, but in the end they stuck on me—parasites, if you will." He chuckled, a deep, resonant sound. "Nothing I hate more than pollution."

I smiled wryly. "I can imagine."

"You're a river spirit too, aren't you?"

I nodded. "I used to be, anyway. My river was dammed up. The ningens needed a place to live, so they took all my water away and built houses over it instead. People didn't come anymore, and I had to leave."

The river god looked at me thoughtfully. "I'd expect you to be more bitter about it, but you're not at all, are you?"

"Not particularly. I used to be. But there's no sense in blaming them for something that's already done."

"Ah. Spoken like a true river spirit, letting time wash away all of the griefs and pains." He shifted, mud squelching from somewhere. I wasn't sure I wanted to look. "Where are you going now?"

I shrugged. "I don't know." I paused, not sure how much to say. "I…decided to end my apprenticeship with Yu-Babaa, and since I have no home and no patrons, I thought I would just wander for a bit. Maybe I could find someplace uninhabited and start all over again."

His eyes were kindly and probing, without the pity I thought I'd see. "That would be difficult, child. The human world is not the only one becoming crowded. There are more gods now, and the new ones are much more greedy. You will be hard pressed to find a new home."

I nodded. I had expected as much; gods did not die and did not like to move, and the mortal world was finite. That didn't mean that we were being pushed out. Where I was once a river spirit, there were now multiple little garden gnomes, and perhaps a few tree spirits.

"But…" and he looked thoughtful. "Hmm. Well, I'm not sure you'd like to jump from one apprenticeship to another, but I would like some help here. They started diverting smaller rivers into mine, you see, and my river grew larger. I have a lot more water, but a lot more work and troubles, too. That's why I had to go to the sento, you see. I wasn't prepared at first, and it caught me by surprise." He peered down at me, bushy eyebrows raised in question.

I deliberated for a moment. He was right; I was rather cautious about accepting another internship so soon, especially as I had been taken advantage of in my previous position. On the other hand, this river spirit was a famous one, and if I was to accept an apprenticeship, there would be few better. "I'm interested. But I won't sign a contract."

"Of course not." The river god looked taken aback at the suggestion; for a moment, I thought I had offended him. "What would I take from you as binding collateral, anyway?"

I opened my mouth to respond, then clamped it shut. I was beginning to suspect that Yu-Babaa's way of doing things was more exception than rule. "Never mind. What would I do, as your apprentice?"

The river god frowned thoughtfully. "Well…I'm not too sure, you see. Being a good river spirit isn't something that everyone can do. I can't just put it down in writing, because, well, it's not all the things you do that make a good job." He spread his arms out. "I can show you. I can't lecture you, but I'll show you." He smiled down at me wryly. "Eloquence was never my strong point. But if you've got nowhere to go, why not spend some time with this old man?"

I had rather begun to like him. He was so different from Yu-Babaa—giant where she was small, streamlined where she was squat, and kind eyes that glimmered with wisdom beneath the surface. There was not an ounce of pretension about him, yet he exuded power all the same—gentle, benevolent, but undeniably impressive.

What did I have to lose?

He was still patiently awaiting my reply. I smiled back at him. "Why not, indeed?"

And that was how I became the river god's apprentice.

"Life flows through a river," Jinzu explained. "As a result, even the smallest river gods have a responsibility to be dutiful and to keep their waters clean. Many of the mortal and the spirit world depend on us to do our jobs."

He gesture towards the humans on the riverbank, who were happily enjoying a picnic. One of the children, still in the infantile stage, ran along the river edge, giggling and towing a brightly colored kite behind him.

"What would happen," he continued, "If my banks became filled with trash? What if my water was no longer clean enough for them to swim in? That child would get sick and he would stop coming here. His parents would tell other parents. And nobody would come to frolic at my shores anymore. This river would become desolate and neglected." He turned to me. "I meet many gods now who are greedy, who count their patrons and their wealth, and who seek only to gain more. That is a dead end cycle," he said, shaking his head. "They seek only short-term success."

I thought of Yu-Babaa, and how she had thought of the gold instead of Boh. "What becomes of such gods, then?"

"Destruction, ruin, unhappiness." Jinzu listed them crisply and offhandedly, as if it was an everyday occurrence. Perhaps to him it was; he had been around for far longer than me. He must have seen many gods rise and fall while he remained standing. "That's what happens when you think only of yourself, though it doesn't always happen right away. Sometimes it takes centuries." He turned around to face me. "Ring a bell with anyone you've met before?"

I smiled wryly. "Somewhat."

He chuckled. "You're being too kind. That whole sento reeked of such sentiment. I was glad to get out. I was physically clean but if I had stayed there any longer, I might have been dealt mental tarnish."

"You have no idea," I muttered, remembering how distant I was while I was there. It had a tendency to suck your life right out of you faster than Kaonashi could suck down food.

Jinzu laughed, but let the matter drop. "Of course, I do not keep watch over all my waters simply by myself. As I have said, we are responsible for many other livelihoods, including others of the spirit world. They share the responsibility with me." He beckoned to me. "Come meet them."

The first river residents I met were a trio of dryads who lived on the shores. I had seen only a few dryads before in my life, and I couldn't help but stare at them. They were beautiful wood spirits, lithe and lively, and overflowing with joy now that spring was here and summer fast approaching. Before Jinzu even called their names they had run to the shores and were awaiting his arrival.

"Oji-sama!" they called, laughing and spinning around gaily. No doubt the warm weather was like an aphrodisiac to them.

"Hanako, Aoi, Samaji," he greeted them fondly. "My lovely ladies, how have you been?"

"Wonderful!" the leftmost one exclaimed. She was the least mature dryad, still bearing traces of her leaves and wood when she manifested into a spiritual being. Somehow I got the picture of a little blond girl who loved to wear pink and nothing but pink. She giggled and latched onto Jinzu's arm. "Oji-sama, you should come by more often! Hana-chan has missed you!"

"Really, Hanako," sighed a slim girl with ivory skin and dark hair. "Jinzu-sama has better things to do than entertain you all day."

"Let her be," her companion reprimanded her without rancor. "After all, she won't be a child forever, and Jinzu-sama understands, do you not?" She smiled up at him.

Jinzu smiled back. "Of course. What would I do without my lovely Hanako to tell me the latest news?" I coughed, trying not to laugh at the sight of Hanako attached to Jinzu's arm like a barnacle to a ship's hull, and was only partially successful. Jinzu, though, did not seem to mind my amusement.

"I have a double agenda today, my ladies. I took on a new apprentice this week. This is Kohaku."

I bowed. "Hajimemashite."

"Kohaku, these three ladies are dryads who help me watch over the river. Aoi—" and he pointed towards the pale girl, "Samaji—" the woman dressed in a pink and blue kimono executed a graceful bow, "—and of course, Hanako," he finished, indicating the little girl on his arm. He lowered his arm so that Hanako was nose to nose with me, and I suddenly found myself staring into big blue eyes.

She was staring at me, too, a bit frightened but bursting at the seams with curiosity. She cautiously reached out and poked me in the cheek, just once, like a cat experimentally batting a foreign object.

I was at a loss at how to react, staring back at her and absently rubbing the red spot where she had poked (and poked hard).

Aoi's distinctive voice rang out. "Hanako-chan!!" The elder girl swiftly but not roughly pulled Hanako off of Jinzu's arm. As Hanako scampered off dance around Samaji, who favored her with a matronly smile, Aoi shocked me by bowing to me. "Forgive her, Kohaku-sama. She is young and does not know yet where respect is due." She cast an exasperated glance up at Jinzu, who winked and grinned back. Aoi only sighed. "Even to Jinzu-sama, though he does not do much to encourage it anyway."

I waved my hands, extremely uncomfortable at such deferential behavior. "Maa-maa…as you said, she's only a child. I don't really care about things like that." Seeing her about to bow again, I added hastily, "And please don't bow to me, and don't call me Kohaku-sama! I'm just learning under Jinzu like everyone else."

Aoi straightened at once, and regarded me with a clear dark gaze. It was piercing but not invasive, seeking but not demanding answers. "Well. If you are not a river god, then you certainly act like one."

Jinzu laughed out loud. "Your instincts are correct, Aoi. Since Samaji is occupied with Hanako, will you be the one to inform me of the weekly report?"

Later that night, I stared up at the sky, absentmindedly counting stars while I tried to quiet the whirling of my mind. Jinzu had said he couldn't teach me, but he could show me, implying that any learning would be proactive on my part. I considered review to be a vital part of that process.

Aoi had crisply listed all the things that had happened and her suggestions on how to deal with it. The water was rising fast this year and she was concerned on how it might erode the soil near Samaji, who was closest to the bank. Hanako was growing well and was expected to shed her dryad form by the end of the year. As for Aoi herself, she simply dismissed herself as doing "just fine."

Aoi, Samaji, and Hanako weren't the only spirits Jinzu and I had called on that day. There were many more dryads and flower spirits that Jinzu had asked for news, the sakana-ou, who presided over all the fish in the river, and the sparrow who acted as the avian emissary. She had brought news of coming migrations, though she spoke so fast I could hardly understand a word she cheeped. Jinzu hadn't batted an eyelash while I concentrated so hard I almost crossed my eyes.

I had expected that he would have quite a bit more work than I had before simply because his river was much bigger, but I hadn't expected all the politics and alliances and partnerships that he had forged. It was a different kind of work than what I had done before, where I had kept to myself and let the world hum around me.

I closed my eyes, finally feeling myself start to relax a bit. If there was one thing that hadn't changed, it was that being a river god was a lot of work.

A/N: I'm having fun with the three new characters, and I'll indulge in them a little more next time around. Aoi is a white rose bush, Hanako a very young sakura tree, and Samaji a fully mature sakura tree. In terms of age, Hanako Aoi Samaji.

Jinzu is a real river in Japan. I don't really know if there's sakura trees or rose bushes on the banks.

Hajimemashite: Nice to meet you

Sakana-ou means fish king. I don't speak Japanese, so I don't know if that's correct or not.

Chihiro will show up eventually, but it won't be a romantic liason. Hayao Miyazaki himself states that Chihiro does not remember anything that happened once she left the spirit world. As such, she shouldn't really remember Kohaku beyond a vague familiarity. Sorry, Chihiro/Haku shippers; but I'm not a great romantic writer anyway, so you're not missing much.

Lastly, thank you all for reading! Feel free to review or point out inconsistencies, as I like to fill in story holes. I'm already planning the next chapter.

-Lindir