Summary: Years passed since Chihiro saved her parents, her journey to the spirit world but a faded memory. Belief turned into hope, then denial, and finally memories. The promise Haku made was forgotten. But Chihiro wasn't the one who forgot. A cruel twist of fate would bring them together again, but when Haku doesn't remember her, its up to Chihiro to solve the mystery.

Author's Note: For a long time this plot has been sitting in my head, brewing ever since I saw the movie. Now just happens to be when I am brave enough to work on it and publish it. I don't know how exactly I want this to be set up, but for the first few chapters I know it will be from different perspectives starting with Haku. I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Spirited Away or any of the characters!

It was cold out. It was desolate and unforgiving, a bitter chill in the wind as it flew by. And yet… it was as balmy as the spirit world ever was. Despite the warm temperatures, the delectable warm breeze floating by innocently, it was cold. It was always cold. No warmth ever seemed to find its way to him. The sweet caress of spring was hardly noticeable; the gentle touches of it sweeping past him, leaving empty promises of happiness in hollow kisses on his cheek. There was no remedying it… it had been that way for as long as he could remember. And yet, each time he felt the flutter of his hair being tousled, the playfulness of spring taunt and tease him, he couldn't help but feel as if there was something more. Something he was missing. He couldn't help but feel… cold.

The breeze floated by, a warm summer day calling the children out to play. It was innocent fun, a time of unadulterated and unbridled joy. The sound of laughter was in the air, echoing brilliantly through the pristine waters. Words were almost distinguishable, and yet became muffled as they met the cooling sanctuary of summer. There were splashes, the disruption of the calm surface quickly becoming riddled with constant ripples. And yet, through the fun and on goings of the pure hearted, there was hesitation.

He wasn't born that way. He couldn't have been. Being cold and unfeeling was an attribute that came with time. That came with scorn and betrayal. One wasn't simply born heartless, an empty shell of a being left to figure out the challenges of the world through fear and intimidation. No! It couldn't be that way. And yet, there was no indication or explanation. There was nothing to explain the extreme nature of his… condition. No memories, no reasons, no inklings, no nothing. Nothing he could get a firm grasp on and desperately squeeze until the meaning behind it all bled out in a gruesome fashion. He was just… nothing.

Something was different that day. The weather was cooler than usual, the warm breeze but a faded memory lingering in the chill air of fall. There was no playing and splashing. There was no laughter hot in air. Only the faint sounds of nature, the chirping crickets and twittering of birds, mixed with the murmurs of adults. There was the faintest, yet distinguishable sound of a plop on the surface, a little red and white ornament bobbing whimsically with the smooth running of the water. It was so serene out, tranquility washing over the once hectic nature and creating a soothing calm. But something was… different.

It was frustrating. Each day was a battle for him. What was he? Who was he? And with each passing night, it seemed like answers slowly slipped further and further away. He couldn't remember a single thing before the Bathhouse. He couldn't remember any emotions or people or memories before he meandered over the bridge and into the waiting arms of the witch Yubaba. He was lost. He remembered that clearly. The hopeless feeling of never finding his way and remaining a lonely, unloved, wandering soul. But she found him. She gave him a home. She gave him protection and a roof over his head. She made him who he was… she saved him. And he owed her. He knew that. But was he who he was, a cruel and unfeeling individual, because of the circumstances behind his missing life? Or purpose… molded to be the perfect apprentice instead of who he was supposed to be?

There was a little girl. Her voice was smooth as silk, cracking with fear at the notion of one thing or another. The little red and white bobber continued to dance, playfully enticing the wildlife swimming beneath the surface.

What was he? He was a spirit… a valuable one who had been taken under the kind wing of a witch and given the chance to be her apprentice. Who was he? He was Haku, manager of the Bathhouse who was given the responsibility to make it run smoothly and successfully. He wasn't anything more or anything less. And dwelling on what should have been rather than what was, was a terrible and utter waste of time. It didn't matter who he was in a past life! It didn't matter what he had done and what he was supposed to do. What mattered was the chance he was given. The chance to make something of himself and repay the wonderful person who had saved his once damned soul.

Something had happened. The pristine surface, lightly being rippled by the dancing bobber was disturbed. With the quiet plunk, water jetting into the air, something slowly began to sink and get taken away in the current.

He had woken up early, setting out to accomplish his morning chores before most any of the others even thought about rousing themselves for a long night of work. The sun was still high, casting a warm glow over the tiny village. But even as he tried to concentrate on doing the contract filing and income statements, something tugged at the back of his mind, distracting him. Hazy memories begged to be paid attention to, whispering in his ear and constantly having him look over his shoulder. He could practically feel the breath on his ear, the weight of their importance on his shoulders, and yet… when he tried to give them what he wanted, they disappeared. And before too long, the sun that was once glittering brilliantly, was slowly dipping behind the horizon, leaving the sky a splatter of colors. It was time.

The air became tense, and it seemed as if time and life stood still. The air thickened a product of the inevitable going ons around them. Tiny fingers grabbed at the water, desperately trying to grip the object that had fallen. Hand stretched out as far as possible, fingers wiggling in the water as if it would bring the item back, but all in vain… she soon fell in.

For as long as he had been appointed apprentice and manager of the Bathhouse, what would have been five years had their dimension recorded time, Haku had taken to formally greeting each and every guest that arrived. It was the polite thing to do… the way to build relations and make sure there were repeat customers. It had increased revenue by nearly 30% in the last year… and all because an important face had come to meet them and make sure their needs were accommodated. Yubaba loved it, the success and money he was making, but he hated it. Making appearances and being fake, albeit efficacious was trying on his nerves. He was short with people… if he even spoke at all, and had taken to a self-inflicted solitary confinement. He wasn't the same person he used to be, so the workers claimed, a brash statement given by the bravest of workers like the boiler man or a cleaning wench whose name escaped him, but that was what power did. It ate you up alive until you were nothing but a cold unfeeling shell. All that mattered was the pride he instilled in his boss. He was a risk, but a good one.

Frightening splashing and cries of fear washed over the tranquility. Water flew in every direction, creating a disturbing current. The little girl, so hesitant as to barely approach the edge bobbed in the water, her head barely breaking the surface for a second before she would sink back down and begin her self-preserving technique that would end in failure.

Slowly Haku tugged at his hair, which had grown in length over the passing years. Pulling the mid shoulder length hair into a well-executed top knot, making sure to leave a curtain of hair draping over his shoulders for a more dignified look, he began his march out to the lake. Feet slipping into the traditional geta, the leg of his navy blue hakama falling and covering most of his foot, he began the ritual of smoothing out his kimono sleeves. He needed to look presentable, trustworthy, and above all confident. Where he once wore a dignified version of a cleaner's outfit, he had donned a more professional look as he was given new and better opportunities. Once a child, his body had grown on its own accord, leaving him in the tall and slender form of what he figured a man would and should look like. The yuna around the bathhouse called him handsome, some courageous enough to try and spend a night with him, but he put no stock in looks. Looks didn't matter in the Spirit World. All that mattered was power, opportunity, and success. And consequently, he had it all. He had the looks, the attention, the power, the success… and yet… his life was steadily going downhill for him, the whisper of a mystery begging to be solved.

Something was wrong. Nothing was happening. The little girl was in the water, splashing relentlessly, and no one was doing anything about it. Her screams went unheard it seemed, the adults standing idly by as she floated and sunk. No… No… NO!

The clicking of the ground beneath his slow but steady footsteps echoed in the empty air. He could hear the boiler roar to life behind him, as he began his journey out to the lake where the boat would dock. The smell of the food around him was mind-numbingly intoxicating, leaving him wholly and completely distracted for a single moment, before he snapped himself back into reality. It was almost night, the Bathhouse would open soon. Swatting the short tendrils of his bangs from his eyes, his fingers running through the mane of hair he left down, his footsteps stopped abruptly. Breath catching momentarily in his throat, he remained motionless.

She was innocent! She just dropped something! Why did she have to pay for a simple mistake? Did the adults not care? Was her life not worth anything to them! This was a mistake. But they had to know. They had to know she fell in. Her pleas for help were deafeningly loud, her thrashing like a beating drum. Was there nothing they could do?

A human. This was impossible! He quickly hid his disdain and astonishment behind a well-trained mask. Humans didn't know about the spirit world, yet the stench radiating from it told him otherwise. Somehow she managed her way in, and somehow she managed to find the place without falling prey to the tantalizing trap that was the food of the spirits. Something was wrong. Something was suspicious about this… this… girl. But he couldn't place his finger on it. For a moment, something about her seemed familiar. Something about the way she held herself… her face… it was familiar. And then he was filled with a body wrenching pain shooting up his neck, leaving him helplessly rubbing it until the throbbing pain ebbed away and left him stern and composed.

Her movements ceased, and she fell beneath the surface. Her eyes were still open, bubbles still escaping her mouth, but she had given up her attempts to reach the edge and cling to land. She had given up on her mission. And this all was because of what…

His movements were quick and precise, his body practically floating over the bridge to where she stood. His hand took hold of her forearm, squeezing roughly. "What are you doing here!" It was the same tone he used when a worker was in trouble, but the glint in his eye spoke of the anger welling inside of him. For a moment he remained silent, his eyes scanning over her features and begging to quench the desire of figuring out where he knew her from, for fear that all-encompassing pain would return tenfold. "Your kind isn't welcomed here…. Human," he snarled, shoving her forward and away from Bathhouse. "Leave before it's too late." She was trouble. He could feel it in every fiber of his being. He couldn't allow her to remain in this world.

All for a tiny… pink… shoe.